Sure, we made excuses for each visit. Drinks after Voyeur. Find a new thing for me to try. Exploring my boundaries. But what it really felt like was testing the boundaries of us, and each night pushed the edge of friends into more. Each night I fell in love with him a little more.
Every once in a while, he’d bring up talking about my past but never pushed. I think we were both hoping to avoid another argument like we’d had. One thing I always appreciated about Daniel was that he didn’t treat me like breakable glass, and maybe because he didn’t, I heard him more than Erik, who pushed too hard. Maybe Daniel’s words sank in and made me want to open my box, face a little of what I kept hidden all the time.
“How’d you sleep?”
“After last night? Like the dead.”
“Yeah, I think I heard you snore at one point.”
I gasped and slapped his shoulder. “I did not.”
He gripped my wrist and lifted it above my head, forming a loose shackle that I could easily escape, and rolled over me.
“It was sexy. I thought I was going to have to wake you again,” he growled against my neck.
His erection prodded my thigh, and I happily opened to let him in. He bit and licked up my neck, sucked my ear, and kissed across my cheek to my mouth, slowly sliding inside me.
My eyes closed, and I basked in the fact that I could get lost in the feel of him. The way he stretched me. The way his chest brushed against my nipples. The way his hips held my thighs apart. The way his lips moved over mine.
All of it was mine to hold close and to not be shattered by a haunting memory in the dark. Daniel gave that to me, and I loved him for it. I loved him for so much more, but this had to be the best.
“So fucking good,” he groaned, moving down my chest to bite at my nipples. He’d start soft, rolling his tongue along the tips, then suck, then bite and tug. He’d bite around each one, leaving marks for me to look at later. Marks that I would stare at in the mirror and stand taller because they were there. Not cower in shame and look away.
“Daniel,” I whispered his name like a plea. He moved so slow, and I needed more.
“Yeah, baby.” He looked up, and I knew he was messing with me. The devious glint, the slow pull out and soft push back in.
“Fuck me. Please.”
One last bite to the under curve of my breast, and then his hand shifted. It no longer held my wrist but slid to link his fingers with mine, holding on tight. His other hand curled around my thigh and hoisted it high on his hip, moving deeper. His eyes stayed glued to mine, and he still moved slowly, but harder. His thrusts rough, precise with hard pushes to hit my clit.
My hand held tight to his, tethered to him, never wanting to let go. I breathed through every move inside my body, never wanting to feel anything else. I wanted to close my eyes, roll my head back, and get lost in the moment, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t look away. He claimed me with his cock, and he held me prisoner with his eyes, and I let him. I gladly opened the door and climbed inside, happy to throw away the key and never leave.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
The words played on the edge of my tongue, and tears burned the backs of my eyes at the force it took to hold them back. He moved faster, the pleasure becoming too much. I squirmed under him, rubbing my clit on every thrust in.
Lightning fast, he rolled over, pulling me with him and sat up, holding me close, letting me control the rhythm.
This position had soon become my favorite. The control and dominance of it fueled my desire and flooded my veins with more heat. Using my thighs, I rose and fell, grinding down and moving faster.
He sucked on my flesh, and I held on tight, losing all tempo and riding him hard, needing to come. Daniel gripped my hips and helped me. Sweat coated my body, and my muscles ached from pulling so tight, clenching in anticipation of the orgasm to come.
“Come on, baby. Cum on my cock. Squeeze me with that tight pussy.”
Dirty talk once had me running, but now, it sent me over the edge, falling into the most blissful oblivion I’d ever known.
My world exploded all around me to the music of my own orgasm mixing with his grunts and groans.
“Fuck, yes,” he ground out. “Fuck. Hanna.”
When we’d both exhausted every drop of pleasure, we held tight to each other, panting, letting our sweat glue us skin-to-skin. His head pressed to my chest, where he’d occasionally gently kiss across my cleavage, paying reverence to my body. I cradled his head and dragged my nails across his scalp. When he softened, he tipped us to the side and pulled out.