I don’t know what I want from her, but I know it’s more than this.
She’s unresponsive at first, her lips sealed against the probing of my tongue, but I keep kissing her, and eventually, her lips soften, letting me into the warm recesses of her mouth. She tastes delicious, like a hint of minty toothpaste and herself, and I can’t suppress a groan as the head of my cock brushes against her inner thigh. I want to be inside her, to feel her hot, slick walls squeezing me tight, but I resist the temptation, focusing on seducing her, on giving her so much pleasure she’ll forget the pain I caused.
I don’t know how long I tease and caress her lips, but after a while, I feel the tentative touch of her tongue. She’s responding to me, kissing me back, and as her body softens underneath me, my heartbeat spikes, the need to have her drumming in my chest. Breathing raggedly, I move from her lips to the tender skin of her neck, then her collarbone and the plush softness of her breasts. She moans as my lips close over her nipple, and I feel her arch underneath me, her hips rising off the bed to press her pussy against me.
Growling low in my throat, I turn my attention to the other breast, sucking on it until Sara’s moans grow in volume, and she’s writhing underneath me, her hands flexing convulsively as I hold her wrists. When I lift my head, I see that her face is flushed, her eyes squeezed shut and her head tipped back in sensual abandon.
It’s time. Fuck, it’s way past time.
Releasing her nipple, I move up, lining my hard cock against the entrance to her body.
“Do you want this?” I ask hoarsely as her eyelids flutter open, revealing eyes hazy with desire. “Tell me you want this, ptichka. Tell me you missed me when I was gone.”
Sara’s lips part, but no words emerge, and I know she’s not ready to admit it, to accept the connection that exists between us. I might have her body, but I’ll have to fight harder for her mind and heart. And I will, because that’s what I need from her, I realize: for her to be completely mine, to want me and need me as much as I need her.
Lowering my head, I kiss her lips again, then release one of her wrists to guide my cock into her hot, slick opening. She’s still incredibly tight, but this time, I manage to go slow, to work myself in inch by inch until I’m buried in her to the hilt. She clutches at my side with her free hand, her delicate nails digging into my skin as she pants against my ear, and I feel her inner walls flex as I begin to move inside her, sliding in and out in a slow, deliberate rhythm. My own desire is at a fever pitch, and it’s all I can do to keep my strokes steady, grinding against her clit each time I bottom out inside her.
“Yes, that’s it,” I groan, feeling her muscles tighten as her breathing speeds up. “Come for me, ptichka. Let me feel you come.”
She cries out as I pick up my pace, and I grip her hip, squeezing the tight flesh of her ass as I hammer into her, fucking her so hard the bed creaks underneath us. I can’t get enough of her, of her silky softness and sweet scent, and I drive deeper into her body, wanting to meld with her, to sink so far into her I’d be permanently etched inside her flesh.
Her cries grow louder, more frantic, and I feel her pussy clenching, her hips rising off the bed as she reaches her peak. Her contractions are the last straw; with a hoarse shout, I explode, grinding my pelvis against hers as my cock jerks and pulses in release, flooding the condom with my seed.
Panting, I roll off her and gather her against me, holding her tight as our breathing slows. With my hunger sated, I become aware of the dull pulsing of the healing wound on my abdomen. The doctors warned me to take it easy for a few weeks, but I forgot about that, too consumed by Sara and the incandescent pleasure of possessing her.
After a minute, I get up to get rid of the condom, and when I return, Sara is sitting up in bed, her slim form wrapped in a blanket like the last time. Only today, there are no tears; her eyes are dry, her gaze locked defiantly on my face as I cross the room.
Maybe she’s beginning to accept the reality of us, to understand there’s no shame in wanting me.
“Why are you back?” she asks as I sit down next to her, and I hear the despair behind the bravado.