The sight of her getting off to my touch brings me to the brink. “I’m going to come, Skye,” I say with a groan.
Her eyes widen for the first time since this started, and the panicked expression creeps onto her face. As much as it pains me to do so, I take her hand away and wrap it in mine. I pull my hand from between her legs. It’s still wet from being inside her. I wrap it around myself, stroking until come spills down my shaft.
She reaches for a shirt on the floor and hands it to me, her fingers still interlaced with mine. I wipe myself off and leave the shirt over my lap, trying to calm my breath.
“You didn’t have to stop me,” she says.
“Yes I did. The moment you’re uncomfortable, we stop. It’s not worth it when I can finish myself off.”
I flip her hand over and kiss it before pulling her into me and kissing her mouth.
“How can I move past this if I can’t push through?”
“This isn’t something you push through. I’ll go as slow as you need. Don’t think about pleasing me. This isn’t about that. Remember what this was in the first place. It’s about allowing you to have positive sexual experiences, not for me to have them.” I flash a smile at her. “Having your hand on me is just a perk,” I say before kissing her again. “Be right back.”
I go to the bathroom and stand in front of the mirror. I move the shirt from my lap and look down at myself. Guilt fills the empty void left in my balls. I tuck myself back into my boxers and drop my hands to the cold porcelain sink. My eyes lift to the mirror and I see myself for the first time in a while, without the veil of an intoxicated filter.
I’m torn in half. Part of me finds life within Skye, but the guilt still wants to rip the breath from my body. Doesn’t she deserve better than this?