On my bed, Scarlet crawls backward and then lays her head against my pillow, smiling at me. I have no idea how we made it into my room without having sex on the stairs, or in the hallway. And I don’t remember when clothes, mostly hers, were shredded away.
I’d like to say I’m taking my time with her and all of this will be slow and thought out.
It’s not happening like that.
Do you see us there on the bed? I know, sexy fucking image right there, but look at the expressions on our faces. Mine one of undeniable lust, and hers. . . I don’t know because once again, I’ve never seen a woman look at me like this.
I crawl over her, covering her body with mine and grinding against her center. My touch against her body is heavy and slow.
I kiss her. . . anywhere I can. Her neck, shoulders, throat, any skin my mouth finds kisses and worships.
I kiss the underside of her throat, dragging my tongue ring over hot skin.
And finally, I kiss her chin, the corner of her mouth, uneven breaths taking the air from my lungs.
I’ve never been very gentle with women, probably because I’ve never met one who wanted gentle.
In all honesty, they wanted the rough I-can’t-fucking-live-without-being-inside-you-and-claiming-you-as-mine sex. Why do they want that?
Because it makes them feel I want something more than the pleasures of flesh, despite it being a complete lie. It’s different with Scarlet. It has been from the very beginning when she turned me down.
Sighing into my kisses, urging me along, tasting her shoulders and neck when my mouth parts from her, my body molds to hers. I cover every inch of her with every inch of me.
Just as I’m about to slip it in, she stops me, her hands on my chest.
“What’s wrong?” I whisper.
I don’t budge.
A moment goes by. I take a deep breath.
“Do you not want to?” I ask.
“No,” she insists, cupping my cheeks and pressing our lips together. “That’s not it at all.”
I frown, breathing her in, my eyes squeezing shut. The head of my cock is already poking at her entrance, so I try to convince myself I can stop if she decides this isn’t what she wants, but it doesn’t make a goddamn bit of sense to me. My need to be inside her is making me irrational. I briefly consider pushing forward just because, but then I remember I’d never do that to any woman, let alone Scarlet.
So what’s stopping her? I groan and draw back, searching her eyes. “What’s the problem?”
“I’m on the pill,” she says with a smile. “But are you going to put on a condom?”
Right. Right. What is this, amateur hour?
“Can I go without?” I’ve never gone without. Ever.
“I’d like that.” She nods, and that’s all the more coaxing I need. My inhale shudders in my chest. I close my eyes when she curves into me, and I slide slowly inside. “That way if you do pull out, at least you can come on my tits or something.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Shut up.”
My hands know their way around her body, a distant memory seared into my brain. My smile tugs at my lips and she notices.
“What?” She kisses me, swirling her tongue around the barbell in my mouth. The sensation shoots through my body like electric currents surging through me.
“My body remembers you,” I tell her, moving my hips slowly, making sure she feels all of me.
Broken breaths burn my skin as she clings to me. “My mind can’t forget you.”
I’ve waited months to have sex with her, and it’s a strange feeling to fuck someone after I’ve fallen in love with them. I’m not sure I understand the meaning.
When I begin to move inside of Scarlet for the first time, other than the last time which we voted and I don’t remember it well enough for it to count, she sighs contently.
Her nails claw at my back carefully as she whispers, “Shade. . . ” in my ear.
I thrust once, surprised how intense the sensation is, both the feeling of being inside her and the way her whispering in my ear makes the wounds inside my heart seem irrelevant.
Surprisingly, I’ve never been one to think much about how good I am in bed, or if the woman’s left satisfied. That’s not the case with Scarlet. In fact, it has me thinking more than I should be.
She’s so much more than a one-night fuck. This girl I have memories with and we were friends. I’ve waited months for her and the attraction, the anticipation of it has left me a little worked up.
Guess who’s close to blowing his load already?
This guy.
I thrust again, attempting to pick up my pace. Scarlet writhes under me, her body silently asking for more than what I’m capable of.
“Shade,” she cries out, lifting her hips to meet my movements. “Move. Fuck me.”
My arms flex, holding my body above hers as I push inside. Again. And again.
Closing my eyes, it’s too much.
Not just her body, it’s her that’s too much for me to take. It’s the girl who gave me shit for months and kept me on my toes. The one that denied me, constantly, until I was sure I couldn’t take anymore.
My balls tighten and the familiar pressure builds through my cock telling me what’s about to happen.
I stop. This isn’t ending before it even begins. No way.
After a few seconds, Scarlet kisses my ear. “Why’d you stop?”
My forehead falls to hers, my eyes squeezing shut. I curl my fingers through her hair and tilt it to the side. My thumb brushes the shell of her ear. “If I move, I’ll come,” I admit, gasping for a breath between my pants. “Just give me a second here.”
She rolls her goddamn eyes at me. “I’ve been waiting months for this. Get it together.”
“Well then, you can wait a little longer. Hold on.”
Listen, dude, get your shit together and fuck this girl. I know, believe me, bareback is nice, but this girl deserves better. Okay?
Nice talk.
Now that I’ve had a pep talk with my dick, I stare at Scarlet. “I think I’m good now.”
She giggles, shaking her head and our bodies with the action. “Good.” Her hands move from my shoulders to my cheeks, cupping them with her palms. “Now fuck me like you’ve been dying for my pussy for six months.”
“I’ve been dying for you.”
Do you think she catches the meaning? That it’s not just about sex, it’s her?
Maybe not. I’m not the only one who hasn’t had sex in a long time. Just the thought of her with someone makes my stomach fall. I’d kill the motherfucker who had been with her, but once inside her, I’m sure she hasn’t. It’s the way her broken breaths hit my skin, the way her body clings and demands. . . . It’s all there.
I fuck her. Fiercely. And she cries out, demands more, begs for everything I have. She curses and pants and I give a purposeful rhythm to addicted hands.
“I love you,” I tell her, as I rock into her.
“I love you, too,” her voice breaks, body shaking with the words. It could be from emotion, though I tend to think it’s because I’m that good that she can’t keep still.
I know. You want the detailed description of all of this, don’t you?
Well, I’d love to give it to you, but the problem is I’m so thoroughly focused on not coming before her, that I don’t know what’s happening. I mean, Christ, look at me.
I’m there above her, hands wildly clutching her to my body while she’s doing the same, curving, bending, begging me with words I can’t hear over the beating of my own heart.
She comes, I know she does because she’s so fucking wet I slip out of her, twice.
And then, only then, do I allow myself the chance to let go completely.
The muscles in my neck and shoulders strain, my movements turning erratic, my body chasing my need. I fuck her with all my weight, moving hard and moaning.
Her mouth finds mine, teeth next, toying with my lip ring, pulling at it. I think she comes, again, I finally come inside of Scarlet, like she wanted me to.
I collapse against her and I don’t think I’ve ever been so sedated in my life, or sweaty.
“Does this mean you’re not going to punch me in the dick?” I ask, sliding out of her and to the side.
The moon fades by the rising sun filling my room with bursts of golden hues, her warm toes dance over my thigh, her cheeks the color of fucked-by-Shade bright pink as she grins. “For now.”