“Not for a second,” I say, and hold her close.
After, the room is perfumed with sweat and salt. Sarah is still wrapped around me, one thigh thrown over my hip, her head burrowing under my chin. I stroke her hair, slow and steady, feeling the knot in her spine gradually loosen.
For a long time, neither of us speak. The rain on the roof is as steady as a metronome. When I look down, she’s already watching me, eyes glassy in the half-light.
“Was I…” she starts, then stops, biting her lip.
I run my palm along her back, tracing the length of her spine.
“Perfect,” I say, and mean it.
She snorts, a small puff of disbelief, but she doesn’t contradict me. Instead, she drapes herself over my chest, propping her chin on my sternum. I cradle her face, kissing her gently, reverently.
“Thank you for trusting me,” I say.
She smiles, wicked and shy at once. “I think I trust you more than I trust myself.”
We lay like that, our skin cooling in the afterglow, until the draft makes her shiver. I pull the blanket over us, but she pushes it aside, rolling onto her back, with a hint of excitement in her eyes.
“Show me,” she says, the words a dare. “Show me how to do it right.”
The old Michael, the one built in the seminary, all theory and iron will … would have frozen, would have called this sin and run from it. But the man in this bed is done with running.
I slide down, kissing her navel, her hips, the seam of her thigh. She smells like herself, and like me, and when I nuzzle between her legs, she giggles, startled by the tickle.
I look up.
“Relax,” I tell her. “Just let yourself feel.”
She nods, but her hands clench the sheet.
I taste her, slow and soft, tongue circling before I flatten it and press. She gasps, a sound of pure surprise, and the sheet rips a little in her grip. I go gentle, reading every twitch and flinch, using my lips to soothe, my breath to tease.
Her body is a classroom, and I am the eager, desperate student. When I find the right spot, her hips buck, and I wrap my arms around her thighs to keep her anchored.
“That’s …oh, God, that’s-” she pants, words breaking up as the pleasure builds.
I hum against her, and she cries out, louder now, not caring who hears. The tempo of the raindrops is our soundtrack. She comes apart under my tongue, her hands fly to my hair, holding on tight as if I might vanish.
When she’s done, I crawl back up, licking my lips, proud as a schoolboy.
She pulls me on top of her, arms and legs both wrapping around me.
“Jesus Christ,” she says, half-laughing, half-weeping.
We roll, and she straddles me, eyes wide. For a moment, she’s uncertain, but I guide her, letting her find the rhythm, the balance. She rides me, awkward at first, but soon withconfidence, and when I start to lose control, I try warning her. She understands, leaning forward to kiss me as I finish. The sound she makes is triumphant, almost feral.
She collapses on top of me, boneless. The world shrinks to the heat between us.
We lie there, tangled, just breathing.
After a while, she speaks.
“Did you ever think it would be like this?”
“Not in a million years,” I admit.
She nods, tracing circles on my chest. “I think I like it.”
