I lowered myself onto him slowly, so slowly, looking up towards the ceiling as I concentrated on keeping him straight inside me, feeling every beautiful inch of him sliding into place.
I stopped for a moment, full of him, relishing that feeling: the slightest burn, the magic spark against my nerves, but most of all, the fullness. This was the only time I ever felt complete – with a man buried up to the hilt in me, a physical confirmation that at least for now, someone wanted me.
I told people like Ace I was versatile so he would come back to me another night. The truth was, this was all I wanted. This fullness, and nothing else.
“Xavi,” Rowe said. His voice was lightly strained, and for a second I was proud that I had made him unable to speak clearly. Then he said the next part. “Look at me.”
But the ceiling is safe.
“Xavi,” he said again. He reached for me, took my hands, and interlaced his fingers with mine. I closed my eyes. “Baby. Look at me.”
I was safe here. Safer than I ever felt. With him deep inside of me, I was at home. If I was ever going to do this…
I opened my eyes and looked at him, and instantly wanted to look away.
But his eyes caught me.
Soft and welcoming, his expression told me that everything was going to be alright. I felt like a virgin all over again, only this time the man underneath me was giving me time to adjust. He looked the way I would have wanted my first time to look.
I felt tears welling up behind my eyes at the thought and blinked them away desperately.
“Oh, Xavi,” Rowe murmured, and I wanted to hear him say my name like that every day but also never again, because I felt like he was seeing me and I wanted to hide away from his gaze. “Oh, baby. You’ve been through too much, haven’t you?”
Why were we talking? Talking with him inside of me – it wasn’t normal. The only talking we should be doing was telling each other what adjustments we wanted to make or shouting out how good it felt. Not… whatever this was.
“I haven’t been through anything,” I said, shaking my head, confused by everything he was saying and doing. “Not compared to you. You lost your parents – you have your leg – and your sister…”
Rowe made a soothing shushing noise, and somehow it didn’t feel dismissive – just comforting. He ran his hands over my forearms. “I don’t mean that,” he said. “I mean here. Like this. You should be with someone who loves and accepts all of you. Someone who wants to stare into your eyes while you make love.”
“You mean fuck,” I said. Speaking of, hadn’t we been still for too long? I itched to move, for him to stop talking and give me permission to move again.
“I mean what I say,” Rowe said. His hands landed softly, gently, on my hips. So, he was feeling it, too. “Look at me, baby.”
I kept my eyes on him. If that was the one condition for this to continue, I could try. I braced my arms on either side of him and lifted myself up, then down, then again, faster and faster as I built up momentum –
And Rowe’s hands tightened on my hips, slowing me, holding me down. “Slow down,” he said. “We have all night.”
Slow down?
Didn’t he just want to get this done as quickly as possible so he could get his satisfaction and go to sleep?
I moved awkwardly, with no idea how to keep my rhythm without the bounce and thrust I was used to, feeling like I was moving in slow motion, feeling more strain in my legs and arms than I normally would. Everything was different at this speed. I felt the pull and catch of him moving inside me and wanted to speed up, to get breathless, to milk him dry and have him shout my name –
“Xavi,” Rowe said. “Come down here.”
I moved like he was my master, following his every command. I lay above him, my elbows propped on either side of his head, and he lifted his neck to kiss me. Our eyes closed for a moment and then he pulled back. One of his hands strayed from my hip to the side of my face. Two featherlight touches. Two anchors that I could not possibly slip away from.
“Look at me,” he whispered, and the hand on my hip moved in such a way that I understood, and I began to work myself up and down on his hard dick again, only this time at a completely different angle. This time, so close above his face that I could even see myself reflected in his eyes – a sight I quickly refocused away from.
I looked into his eyes and saw only him, and for a second my breath stopped, a shiver going right through my core.
“It’s okay,” Rowe whispered. I was used to loud. Screaming, shouting, groaning, yelling. Not quiet. Not a whisper. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here with you.”
“Tell me what to do,” I told him, my voice cracking and way too loud compared to his. “Tell me how to make you cum.”
“Make yourself cum,” Rowe told me, lifting his head again to first kiss and then nibble at my lower lip. He didn’t look away from my eyes.
“But I don’t…” I stopped. I couldn’t admit it. Not out loud.
