I smile up at him, because I’ve never felt like this. I feel…perfect. Warm and aroused and seen and fulfilled and pleasantly blank. My mind is quiet and I’m right here, feeling him as he plunges into me, and again deeper. It’s not separate orgasms anymore, just a steady stream of pleasure and I can’t keep the grin off my face even while he kisses me.
I go over again just as he does, a groan of effort and pleasure rumbling out of his chest and into mine. He slows, our mouths never separating, and we’re breathing together. I feel like I should say something but I can’t find any words. It’s a long time before either of us moves.
Finally, he takes a deep breath, and pulls free, leaving to take care of the condom. Then he slowly removes the cuffs from my wrists and ankles, massaging the skin as he sets them aside. Leaning close, he presses a kiss to my forehead and scoops me up in his arms. Matthew is still completely naked, and so am I, but he carries me out into the house all the same.
It takes me a couple of minutes to find my voice, and when I do it’s rough with sex and tears. “Where are we going?”
“Your room.”
“Why?”
He chuckles, and I love the feel of it. “Because if you stay in my room, I will tie you to my bed and I will take you all night.” I shiver at his words. “And we’ll both sleep through our last day together.”
Matthew carries me all the way to my room like it’s nothing. I’ve never felt feminine like this. “I like this.”
“What?” he asks.
“The carrying.”
“Too bad,” he says, “I was planning on dropping you in a heap when we got to your room, but now I’ll have to be careful.”
I freeze, “Am I too heavy? I can walk—”
Matthew stops in the middle of the hallway, “No, Emma. I like carrying you. I like the fact that you are letting me carry you.”
We finish the trip in comfortable silence. And I’m not sure how he manages it, but he pulls back the blankets and settles me on the bed without even a shiver of effort. I want to ask him to stay, for more of everything, but the warmth of the bed and the way he’s stroking his hand through my hair again is pulling me down into sleep, faster than I thought possible. The last thing I feel is the press of Matthew’s lips on my skin as I drift away.
Thirteen
The sound of my phone ringing wakes me. It seems like it’s been years since I’ve heard that sound. It’s in the pocket of my jeans, sitting forgotten in one of the armoires. I stumble out of the bed, trying to reach the phone before it stops ringing. It’s Lily.
“Hello?” My voice sounds like it’s been blasted with sandpaper. Which, given my activities last night isn’t particularly surprising.
“Hi!” She sounds way too chirpy for my brain this early in the morning. Is it the morning? I glance at the clock. Holy fuck, it’s almost noon! “I just got back to the states and I wanted to check and see how it’s going with Matthew. Your still at his house, right?”
“Yeah, I am,” I say. “I’m having a good time. I can understand why you guys do it.”
She laughs, bright and happy. “So he was right? You are a submissive?”
“I didn’t say that. I mean…yeah, the sex is amazing, but I don’t think I can do this. It’s not who I am.”
“But what if it is?”
I sigh, sitting down on the bed and pulling the blanket up around me. “Did I tell you about Jeremy, Lil?”
“That douche who dumped you? Yes.”
“Well, we talked about him last night, and even though I know that Matthew is nothing like him, I’m barely recovered from one man constantly ordering me around and thinking he knows what’s best for me. I can’t do another.”
There’s silence on the other end of the phone. “You’re right, Matthew is nothing like that. If that’s all you think this is, then you shouldn’t stay.”
“Lily—”
“No, Emma,” she says. “I know we’re not as close as we used to be, but I know you. And this is my world that you’re in. If you’re only sticking it out so that you can get revenge on your ex, get out, because Matthew doesn’t deserve that.”
She’s not wrong, but I can’t help but think that she’s not being entirely fair either. I didn’t ask for my past to be brought out of me like a wrecking ball, and now that I’m seeing the parallels, I can’t help but notice the tiny grain of sand grating at me, telling me to be careful. That this isn’t perfect. That doing this is wrong.