Something woke me from a deep sleep. At first, I wasn’t sure where I was. I looked around, expecting the now familiar outline of Martin’s spare bedroom to greet me. Instead, dark, ugly wallpaper with a television bolted on an extendable arm was all I could make out. That, and the unmistakable sound of someone crying. Not a full cry – no sounds came from him, just the telltale breathing change.

I rolled toward Martin to find him on his side, facing away from me, the thin sheet shaking with each labored breath. I went to him.

“Martin. What’s wrong?” I felt along the outline of his sheet, expecting to feel blood from one of his wounds. He let out a low, soundless wail that I understood immediately. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry.”

Not waiting for a response, I climbed into the bed with him, under the sheet, and covered him with as much of myself as I could. We stayed that way for minutes, me tailoring my breathing to his, keeping him safe from the outside world in my own little way.

Martin turned to me, not saying a word, and nuzzled his face into the crook of my neck. We remained like that, intertwined, his breaths calming. Minutes later, he moaned, “Vanessa,” his voice just a whisper on my skin.

I kissed him, softly, hesitant. First on the top of his head, then down his wet cheek, finding my way to his lips. “I’m here,” I whispered back between gentle kisses. “I’m here.”

Martin pulled me tighter, his strong arms pressing me to him until I couldn’t breathe. But I didn’t pull away. I’d gladly suffocate right there in his arms before denying him whatever peace he needed.

His hands released me, and I inhaled deeply. Then they found me again, this time slowly tracing a line up my thigh. With nothing more than his button-down shirt as a barrier, I raised my leg and threw it over his broad hip, pulling him to me.

He kissed me then, harder, with need. His other hand, from behind my head, tugged at my hair. I opened my mouth to receive him, groaning with pleasure at the display of strength. I was his.

The rogue hand beneath the sheet found its way back up my thigh, this time on the inner portion, causing my entire body to tremble. Every muscle tensed as his fingers pushed my underwear aside and found their mark. I clawed at the back of his shirt and bit his lip. “Please,” I begged.

Rhythmically, he ground his hips into me, his fingers ready to finish the job they’d started the night before. So long ago, and yet my body reacted as if we’d never stopped.

He pulled away just as I was about to explode, and I cried out, “No, no, no.” I felt blindly beneath the sheet for his hand, begging him with my hips to come back to me.

“Sshh,” Martin whispered in my ear, then he kissed me gently, sucking my bottom lip, and disappeared under the covers.

Moments later, I felt my underwear glide down my leg, and Martin’s hot breath tickling against places I’d only dreamed about. His tongue found me, gently at first, but not for long. I bucked and cried, but he held me firm, both massive hands engulfing my hips.

In my mind, I wanted to resist, tell him that this was his night. I was here for him. But it came out in nothing more than guttural noises. I dug my fingers into his scalp and gave in.

As the first wave washed over me, I tore at his hair and back, anything I could get a grip on. I whimpered, a bevy of colorful words spilling forth. Finally, when my senses returned, I managed a feeble, “Please.”

Martin emerged from under the sheet and threw it off of us, panting and sweating. He lifted his shirt from my body with one swift motion, raising me off the bed with one hand as if I weighed nothing. “I need you.” His voice vibrated on my stomach as he traced kisses up my body and to my waiting lips.

“I’m yours.” I could barely catch my breath long enough to mutter the words, but he didn’t need them. What passed between us was bigger than words. Sitting upright in Martin’s lap, I threw my head back as he suckled at my left breast, somehow knowing it was the most sensitive. “Now, please. Now.”

The zipper that kept me from him released, and I felt the heat from his flesh on mine. Then, the moment I’d been waiting for. I felt him enter me, my body only offering the slightest resistance at his size. The earlier efforts of his tongue were now a welcomed assistance. Ever so slowly, he eased himself into me, kissing and caressing every inch of my body. We stayed like that, unmoving, allowing ourselves the triumph of finally giving in.

I wrapped my legs around his back, still sitting in his lap, and slowly ground our hips together. Our sweat-slicked bodies writhed together. It wasn’t long before my pleasure mounted again, the gentle rocking motion becoming more frantic.

Sensing my need, Martin lowered me onto the bed, never losing his stride. I grabbed for the headboard, but there wasn’t one. Martin took my hands in his, and I squeezed as hard as I could. Picking up the pace, he pounded into me, sending me tumbling over the edge of my ecstasy. Just as I thought I could handle no more, he called out, his drawn out ‘God’ mixing with my equally long ‘fuck’.

He fell on top of me, panting, both of us unable to move or think.

A few minutes later, after regaining our strength, Martin rolled over, allowing me to breathe, and kissed me softly. “You sure cuss like a sailor when you cum, Ms. Genovese.”

“You make me cum like a porn star, Mr. Martin.”