“Hmm, it’s alright,” I reply with mock boredom, then gasp, digging my fingers into the sheets, as he thrusts his hips slightly forward.
“‘Hmm, it’s alright’? Then I guess I’ll have to try harder to convince you of my clearly fantastic abilities, Goldilocks.”
Oh fuck, he’s already hard again and still inside me, and… I lift my hips, beginning to move again in slow, tight circles. I’m insatiable. Starving. And the throbbing returns with such need that I give in to the game again.
Nicolas leans in and takes my bottom lip between his teeth, tugging gently before his tongue resumes its sensual dance with mine. We start moving again, slow and deliberate, his body sliding into mine while mine grinds against him. The heat builds once more, and I spread my legs wider, pulling him closer. The kiss grows rough and hungry, and I let out a whimper, craving more.
Nicolas must feel the same. He pulls back, and when he slips out of me, I curse under my breath. But he acts fast, pulling me against his chest. One hand teases my nipple, sending sparks through me, and I squirm as he bites my neck.
“Turn around,” he commands harshly, and I do as he demands. A soft cry escapes my lips as he grabs my hips and thrusts into me from behind.
“Oh God, yes,” I moan, and he laughs as he pounds into me, fast and hard. My center clenches around him instantly and this time, it doesn’t take long.
The orgasm surges through my body; Nicolas moans as I tighten around him and the world around us seems to pulse. He follows soon after, and I collapse onto the bed beneath him, both of us utterly breathless, struggling to catch our breath.
“Okay… that was… definitely necessary,” I pant, and his laughter rumbles against my back.
“Definitely so necessary, Goldilocks,” he agrees, rolling off me to lie beside me. We remain silent as his hand slowly glides down my back and rests on my hip, while my eyelids grow heavy and start to close. He gives me this strange sense of contentment, and I feel safe.
I know I should get up, clean myself, and take a shower, but my muscles and limbs feel heavy and practically nonexistent, so I just stay lying there.
“I should shower,” I mumble pointlessly into the quiet, and he laughs again.
“Then why don’t you? Want some help?” He pinches my butt gently and I let out a scandalized sound that makes him chuckle again.
“Come on, Goldilocks. Let’s shower, and then we talk, okay?” The word “talk” stings for a second, and fear starts to creep in again, but I push it down. Nicolas is so calm, so unlike himself, that I don’t want my doubts to spoil this moment.
And he’s right. We need to talk.
Especially after what just happened.
Half an hour later, we’re both back on the bed. I’m wearing a fresh shirt and new underwear, and Nicolas is in sweatpants. He’s leaning against the headboard and without hesitation has pulled me into his arms.
Now my head rests on his bare chest. The butterflies in my stomach have returned, and I have no desire to let in my fear, my uncertainty, or my doubts. He’s giving me a feeling I’ve missed for so long: safety. I selfishly savor this feeling now. For once, I allow myself to be selfish, because I’m well aware that sex hasn’t suddenly made everything perfect or turned us into a couple. But apparently, he wants to be here right now just as much as I do.
“How did you get those scars on your back?”
My heart stops, then races, and panic creeps out of its corner.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I’ve let myself fall so freely that I forgot about my scars. They’re almost invisible, fine silver lines across my back, but they’re there.
Damn it.
I curse inwardly and try to stop my hands from trembling.
“I fell off a horse two years ago, right into a rose bush. The thorns tore my back when I fell.”
A lie.
My heart tightens, because the last thing I want is to lie to him, but telling the truth just isn’t an option. He seems to buy the story, doesn’t push for more, and I almost let out a sigh of relief, catching myself just in time.
For a while, we lie there silently again, and I enjoy the quiet. It’s not uncomfortable. It feels completely normal.
He breaks the silence. “Did you know all along that Phil was gay?” I hesitate briefly.
Okay, beating around the bush is definitely not his style.
