The last words are a tease, but there’s a glimmer of uncertainty behind her eyes—a kind of vulnerability that suggests that I could break her easily if I wanted to, and not by taking her rough or wrong, but by turning her away.
I brush my calloused thumb across one smooth, satin cheek. “I can’t be responsible for the downfall of the universe.”
“I know, right?”
I dip my mouth to nip at her earlobe. “I can’t have you locking yourself away. That’d be a crime, too.”
“I thought so.”
I use one hand to lift her hips. She grinds against me, slicking my shaft and sending my arousal into overdrive. “You can’t back out now.”
“I don’t want to.”
I swallow hard and slowly, carefully, I push the broad head of my cock against her small opening. Her body parts, but there’s resistance. I stop and take a deep breath, counseling myself to wait, to hold on for one more friggin’ minute so I don’t ruin this first time for both of us.
“More.” She wriggles slightly under me. “I want more.”
So do I, Bit, so do I. My dick is aching. I move a fraction deeper, her swollen tissues snug and hot around me. Bracing myself with one arm, I lean down to take her tit in my mouth again. Her response is to bite into my shoulder. I lurch forward.
She yelps but grabs me before I can withdraw. “If you don’t fuck me right now, I’m going to lose it.”
“I’m going slow for your benefit.” I clench my jaw. “It hurts the first time.”
“That’s an old wives’ tale. Not everyone’s first time hurts.”
I choke. “Bitsy, let me—”
“No.”
I’m hurting her. I know it, but I can’t stop. The lust has me by the throat and until it all drains out, I’m worthless. I’ll make this up to her. I’m going to spend the rest of my days and all my nights making it up to her.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper in her ear and thrust home for a final time.
The come floods out of me like I’ve split a hydrant in half. It’s a lifetime’s worth of seed filling her channel, leaking out between us even though the seal between her sex and my cock is so tight it could pass a lab inspection.
“I’m sorry.” This time it’s more of a prayer for forgiveness than an apology.
She surprises me again by wrapping her arms around me and laughing. Clinging hard, she whispers in my ear. “I love you, Leka Moore. I love you.”
And I’m hard once more.
35
Bitsy
“Fuck, I love you, Bit. Love you so much I wanna to tear my heart out of my body because the thought of not having you would ruin me.” Leka shudders and groans under me like a thoroughbred after an exhausting race.
When he thrust inside me, it hurt. It hurt more than anything I’ve ever felt before, but just beyond that pain, there’s a glimpse of glory, a horizon full of pleasure. I dreamed of this moment—the one where his body and mine came together in some sort of holy communion. I fantasized hearing those three words from him. Pain recedes and the joy in my heart bubbles up, spilling out between my lips.
“What’re you laughing about?” Leka asks, his sweaty forehead resting on my shoulder. A braced forearm keeps his body from crushing mine.
I hug him tight, wanting to be flattened by him. “I’m happy.”
“Happy? Then I must not’ve done my job, because I’m wrecked.” He levers himself off of me and drops on his back. “I couldn’t last more than a few strokes.”
There’s a dark tone of displeasure in his voice that pierces my cloud of happiness. I push up on an elbow and cast a confused look in his direction. “What’s wrong?”
“Me.” He runs a hand through his hair and then jumps off the bed. “Stay here,” he orders.
In the bathroom, I hear the water turn on.
I look down between my legs and nearly shriek in shock.
He runs back in, a wet washcloth dripping from his hands. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Nothing.” I look around for something to cover myself with. I can’t let him see the mess or he might jump out the window.
“I saw it already,” he admits. The bed dips down as he takes a seat. Carefully, he peels my hands away from my thighs and presses the warm cloth between my legs. “Are you hurting much?”
“No.”
“You wouldn’t tell me if you were, would you?” He sighs and reaches up to smooth a hand over my hair. “How bad does it hurt? I have some painkillers. The real kind, not the worthless shit you buy at the drugstore.”
“Do I want to know why you have those?”
“No.”
I nod. There are things he’s not ever going to want to talk about. I get that and accept it. I don’t need to know the details. As long as they don’t affect how he feels about me, he can keep his secrets. I know he finds them shameful.