I rock into her, barely moving at first. She’s still tight, but every thrust feels easier, her body adjusting to take me. She’s so wet, so ready, I nearly come on the spot.
She tilts her hips up, chasing the feeling. No hesitation. No shame. The way she bites her bottom lip, trying to keep herself from speaking is the only indication I need to know she wants more.
I move, slow at first, then deeper…faster. The slap of skin on skin fills the room, filthy but perfect. She’s greedy, nails clawing at my arms, her blindfold slipping even more.
I grab her wrists, pin them above her head, using my weight to keep her still. She bucks against me, needy as hell, and I let her have it, fucking her harder, giving her everything.
She cries out. It’s not even words, but desperate sounds. I feel the grip of her pussy around my cock, squeezing, milking me for more.
I grind down, hitting her clit with every thrust. She loses it, screaming, legs shaking, her whole body clutching mine. The sight of her coming again, raw and undone, pushes me over the edge.
I explode inside her, hips stuttering, every muscle locked and burning. I bury my face in her neck, groaning loud enough to shake the walls. My cum fills her, hot and messy, and I keep moving, riding every last second.
When it’s over, I collapse next to her, boneless and totally spent.
She curls up into my side, blindfold still on but half-off and gorgeous.
I let myself forget about everything else but the girl in my arms.
For a while, there’s nothing but the after-beat of fucking. The tangle of arms and legs and the hush of our breathing as we are slowly coming down from the high.
She’s so soft. Still warm, as she clings to my side like I’ll disappear if she lets go. Never attempting to remove the blindfold.
Maybe she likes the mystery. Maybe she just wants this not to end.
I don’t blame her, neither do I.
She shifts, pressing her cheek against my shoulder, letting out a tiny sound that’s barely a sigh.
Then…
"Could you just…hold me? Just for a few minutes?" Her voice is so fucking small, it kills me.
The women I typically fuck want distance afterwards. They want to clean up, leave, and pretend nothing happened. Not her. She wants to be held.
I wrap an arm around her, bringing her in close so she fits right under my chin. My other hand strokes her hair. She instantly melts, all tension sliding out of her. I can’t help but notice how she fits so perfectly.
We stay like that for I don’t know how long, her back pressed to my chest, my arm wrapped tight around her waist. I breatheher in, the whole time, wishing like hell I could offer more than just one night.
She goes still, except for a hitch in her breathing every now and then. I don’t move. Not even when my arm starts to go numb. I just keep stroking her hair, tracing light circles on her hip, letting her know she’s not alone. After a while, her breathing evens out, her lashes fluttering against her cheek and her lips parting.
She’s asleep.
I lie there, fighting the urge to stay, to make this last forever. But rules are rules.
No names.
No questions.
No attachments.
One night only.
I carefully pull my arm from around her waist, rolling away so carefully she barely stirs. I grab the sheet and pull it over her, making sure she’s warm. She sighs, looking as peaceful as I’ve ever seen anyone look.
Not being able to help myself, I lean in and press a kiss to her forehead. "Sweet dreams, angel." The words slip out before I can choke them back.
Then I stand, find my clothes, trying my hardest to pull myself together. Every muscle is on fire, but in a good way. I glance back, one more time. She’s perfect…finally at peace.
