Scandalized

And this time I know he’s going to go longer. He’s going to destroy me with teasing. Restraining himself. Edging closer and closer to his own breaking point.

I’ve just come. I should be drained, still turned inside out in relief, but instead I feel hollow, swollen, and heavy again. I try to watch his face, to focus on the pleasure he takes in restraint, but instead I’m desperate to feel the rough drive of him all the way into me until I’m choking. Every time he teases me with the stretch of the head just inside, he slides away, exhaling a rough grunt. Each pass, he gives me only inches, but I lose my grasp by miles.

I manage only the thinnest sound: “You’re making me crazy.”

“I know.” He slides his thumb over my clit and then follows with the hard tip of his cock, circling. “You’re like wet silk. It’s all I can do to not fuck you whole.”

“Please.”

“In a second,” he rasps, “but right now I can’t stop watching this. I keep thinking,” he says, swallowing, “?‘One more time. Just one more time and I won’t be able to take it anymore,’ but then I want to see it again. The way it looks when I push in—”

His words cut off and he stares down again. I’m mesmerized by his face. Alec’s expression as he does it over and over—pushing barely into me and then out, sliding the tip up and around my clit and then back down, barely in, back out—is hypnotic. The plump, soft curve of his mouth, the stern focus of his brow. It’s almost too much. I should close my eyes—to keep myself grounded in this moment on the bed and this earth—but I can’t make myself look away.

I know why he’s unable to stop doing this again and again. If nothing else, I’ve become an expert in Alec Kim as a lover. He likes to draw it out like this; he knows how to make his body wait and then explode. But while watching him experience this in focused, careful inches, I realize there’s another reason behind it, too, something more tender and sincere: this is a first. Feeling each other in this way will be earth-shaking every time, but after tonight, we never get this sensation for the first time again. That night in Seattle, we blew through so many firsts in a matter of minutes. And just like that, I’m locked into the cycle with him: just one more time I want to see that wild relief of the push forward, the beautiful devastation when he retreats, the tight anticipation when he comes back again.

“I’m so close,” he whispers tightly, talking to himself. He sucks in a breath through his teeth, stroking his hand down his length then squeezing his eyes closed. “Gigi, you’re wet all over me.”

This visible crack in his resolve breaks me and now the greedy beast is back, louder, fists banging at my ribs. I tell him again and again that I’m close, I’m right there. I let a single profane plea escape, begging him to fuck me, but he teases us both again and again and again until I go quietly crazy, feeling the slide of a tear down my temple into my hair.

But I know that if he stops, that’s where the real madness comes.

I’m so close.

He coughs out an abrupt, surprised sound, and I jerk my eyes back to his face. Sweat glistens like stardust on his brow, his lip, his neck. “Oh God,” he breathes, and his voice breaks in a gasp. “I can’t—”

Still—he’s just barely inside me, only a few inches, and I need it all—and then he draws away, angling to tease my clit again. Alec growls in ecstatic restraint, jaw clenched tight, eyes flashing.

“Oh, shit.” His voice is tighter now as he presses down and forward, breaths shallow and broken, fucking me in tiny, rocking movements. He closes his eyes as he goes just barely deeper into me. “Oh. Oh my God.”

Please, I beg silently. Please fall into me.

But also: Please, don’t ever finish.

A familiar sharp groan tells me he’s about to come, but he pulls back, gasping “No,” stroking the madness between my legs, tapping me with his impossibly hard cock, and I’m on the very cusp, feel my orgasm climbing inevitably, rising like the moon—

I can’t help the sob that rips free and it’s a tide of emotion swelling, spilling everywhere. I’ve tipped over: whether or not he pushes fully into me I’m coming—just from the teasing strokes, the anticipation, my body has reached the breaking point. I welcome the hard clench of it, want it, want it so bad, and as Alec shifts forward, giving me just enough to set me off, he watches and his own restraint snaps. He shoves in deep, letting out a sharp cry of surrender as I fall. With him thrusting with everything he has, pleasure hits me like a train, spotting everything black at the edge of my vision.

I miss the moment he tumbles after me, but I hear the force of it in his heavy gasping some unknown handful of seconds later. Collapsing to the side, Alec pulls me into his chest, kissing my wet cheeks, my neck. “Gigi.” He stills, stroking my cheek again. “Are you crying?”

“Too wrecked,” I manage. “Can’t speak.” My arms feel like concrete when I try to lift them around his shoulders. I give up. “I can’t.”

He laughs breathlessly. “Give me a second and I’ll get us into the shower.”

“Just bring the shower here.” My voice comes from underwater. “Am I saying this out loud?”

He drags his hand up my stomach, between my breasts. I’m sweaty, or he is. Realistically, we both are. “You think you don’t like to be teased, but you come so hard when I make you wait.”

“That was mean.”

He laughs again and then wipes a hand over his face. “I almost passed out.”

“I think I did pass out.”

He kisses my chin. “Yeah, I think you did.”

Alec stands and disappears. I hear the water running in the tub, the splash of his hand in the water. Tendrils of steam seep into the bedroom, and he comes back, carefully sliding his arms under me, picking me up.

“I can walk,” I say without much conviction, and turn my face into his neck. “You’re going to make me love you, aren’t you?”