For Us (The Girl I Loved Duet 2)

“Just like what?” I say, irritated that he stole an orgasm from me, even if we both agree that he’s allowed.

“You were thinking too hard,” he says.

Turning off the stovetop, he scoops me off the counter and out of the kitchen. We’re to the bedroom in record time, and he lays me on the bed. I’ve never seen him put on a condom so fast, and then he’s here and above me, and pushing in and in and in until I’m filled completely. My eyes flutter shut, feeling all of him.

“Amber,” he says, and I manage to open my eyes. “I promise that I’m going to fuck you on that table, but since we’re talking about this, this is what you need. What you’ve always needed.”

I realize that he’s lined himself up with me and that I have the full weight of his body on mine. It feels so good, and I haven’t thought about anything else since he laid me on this bed. I could easily fall asleep in the comfort of his warmth and presence, and the fact that he’s so deep inside me I feel complete. “Okay,” I say.

“Do you want to put a name to it?”

“What do you mean?”

He chuckles, and I like that I can feel him everywhere. “I mean do you want to call what we’re doing something so that you don’t have to say that we’re doing…this.”

“Maybe,” I say. “But I don’t know what to call it. And I’m not sure the normal thing would work.” I can’t stop the blush that rises to my cheeks. Go figure.

“Hmm,” he says, moving his arms under my shoulders and up so that he’s cradling my neck and head. “I’m not so sure about that. You seem to like it.”

“No,” I say too quickly. I am not…that. There’s a twinge in my gut, like my body is accusing me of lying, but I’m not ready for that.

“You don’t like the word submissive?” he asks it while his lips are pressed against my skin, and I swear that flames bloom from his lips and consume me.

I lie, and I don’t. “No.” Because that word means something different to me. And it will take me a long time to separate it from this feeling.

He kisses me lightly. “For now why don’t we just call it the system. Our system. But we’ll come back to the other words later,” he says.

“The system,” I say, testing it out. It’s good. It’s also something that we could potentially use in public if we needed to reference it. The system. “I can do that.”

“Good. Because I think that having language makes it real. Otherwise it’s just something nebulous that’s going to disappear, and even though this is just a test, I don’t think either of us really want it to disappear.” I shake my head, and he smiles. “Wrap your arms around my shoulders.”

I do, and I feel him move, shifting his legs to the outside of my hips for more leverage, though his weight is still on me.

“Spread your legs.” I do. “As wide as you can make them go.”

I have to close my eyes. Because this is suddenly so intimate, and I’m ready and I’m not and every inch that I spread my legs apart feels more vulnerable and makes him feel bigger inside me. I stretch and stretch, until I can’t stretch anymore, and this feeling is amazing. I gush wetness, and my nerves jump with sensitivity. He feels huge, buried in me, and he’s pinning me down while cradling me. And I’m holding onto him. It’s not hard to see what he’s doing but I also love it. Feeling this, it’s all him. He’s everywhere. Inside and outside and supporting me while I hold onto him. The holding on is important. It makes me feel active, and that I’m saying yes, not just lying there while he takes over.

And then he starts to move, and I’m not ready. I didn’t realize my body was so primed, because I come immediately. One thrust, and I’m drowning in pleasure, digging my nails into his back while he starts up a true rhythm and I’m still coming. It doesn’t feel like it’s going to stop, perfect and rolling and holy shit it’s just so good that I’m not breathing. As soon as the last one fades, the next one picks up, sparking and sparkling and bursting and I’m moaning but it’s muffled by Peter kissing me and the sounds of him fucking me. And one of the things I notice between waves of pleasure is that I’m not thinking. I’m not thinking about anything but the fact that I’m here with Peter and it’s perfect.

“Peter,” I gasp, in-between thrusts, “I can’t come again.”

“Don’t be silly,” he says. “Of course you can. One more time.” And he pushes in. I burst like a nova, light flashing, and I hear him come too, groaning against my shoulder while his hips still pump through his climax. I haul in breath after breath as the fire of pleasure fades and I come back to earth. It doesn’t feel real. Peter grins at me when he recovers. “I did promise you sex.”