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But I already know she’s not in pain, and I can’t deny that I’m enjoying this even more than I imagined.

I remember reading once that the body’s biggest sex organ is the brain. I’m finally understanding what that means.

“It does,” she protests.

“Where?”

“My clit.”

“I’ll make it all better…eventually.” I laugh, mimicking her earlier words.

She mewls in protest, but when I nudge her thighs wider apart, she doesn’t do anything except rush to comply. Blows eight and nine fall in the center of each cheek. The last strike I can’t resist. I swing low, far gentler than before, and swat her swollen sex.

That makes Nia gasp, then let out a low, aroused moan.

“What number was that?” I prompt.

Why am I enjoying this so much? I’m not sure. We both know the answer to my question, but I need to hear her say it. Because, for the first time in my life, I’m able to have more than a cursory say-so about the sex I have? Because I’m finally able to act out the fantasies in my head? I’m sure there’s a rationale here, but puzzling through it now is the last thing I want to do.

“Ten,” she keens out. “Evan, please…”

I linger, my fingers tracing her slick folds, breezing over her hard clit. “Did you enjoy that?”

Again, I know the answer. I like making her admit the truth. I enjoy feeling arousal at more than a physical level, beyond skin and bone and cock. Our exchange now? It’s as if we’ve entered something forbidden together. As if my brain being engaged is ramping up the rest of my responses.

“Yes. God, yes.”

Her panting confession tells me it’s the same for her.

Maybe a stronger man would toy with her, make her wait more. But she already sounds desperate. No denying I’m more aroused than I’ve ever been, and it’s all I can do to make my shaking hands rip into the condom. It still feels foreign to roll it down my length, but I do it hastily, then position my knees between her spread calves and grip her hips.

“Good. I did, too. Ready?”

Nia doesn’t answer with words, simply arches her back, lifts her ass even higher, and wiggles impatiently.

I’ll never turn down that invitation.

Fitting my cock against her opening, I slide into her slick sex. And I groan long and low, filling the room with the sound of my need. She’s scalding and tight, and the fact she’s fulfilling another one of my fantasies notches me up even more.

Urgency drives me. I set a hard pace, shuttling in and out so fast it’s a blur. Nia throws her head back, digs her fingers into the blanket, wailing for more. She tightens—a good sign. But I’m already dangerously close to orgasm. After sharing something I’ve wanted for a decade with the woman I want more than any other? It’s a recipe to lose control.

“Reach down,” she manages to pant out. “Rub my clit.”

Happily. I want to do whatever she needs to climax. If my brain was functioning, I would have figured out that manual stimulation would get her there faster. Not that I want to rush this, but I’m like a freight train without brakes. There’s no slowing this down.

The second I get my fingers right where she needs them, Nia lets out a needy, high-pitched cry and jolts in orgasm. Around me, I feel her contract, squeeze, milk me. It’s all over, then. After a handful of harsh, jerking thrusts, I’m shuddering and bellowing and shouting out a rough growl of ecstasy.

It seems like hours before my breath turns normal, before the sheen of sweat covering my body begins to cool, before I can even move.

Finally, I press a kiss to her shoulder, then gently withdraw and lay another kiss at the base of her spine. “You okay?”

She turns to face me with a loopy smile and nuzzles my neck. “Better than okay. I feel…” She stretches happily, even wiggling her toes. “Fantastic.”

Smiling from ear to ear, I head to the kitchen and dispose of the condom. When I return, I take in her nudity as she fluffs her hair and sighs with satisfaction.

“How are your cuddling skills?” she asks.

We’ve had sex multiple times, but I realize we’ve never lingered. I haven’t really touched her afterward.