Getting Her Back

They all have back-stories in my head. Some are artists like me. Some are characters from books that I’ve read. Some I fancy to be people that I passed on the streets of New York City and inexplicably remember their faces.

I spent so much time on the painting that I almost forgot to leave for my date with Christian. I don’t have enough time to fully wash all the paint from my hands, I just have to put on the clothes that I’ve chosen and run out the door. The first time I went to this apartment I was anxious because I thought I was going to meet a stranger. Now I’m anxious because I know that I’m not going to meet one. Ellen’s words from breakfast yesterday echo in my head. How am I supposed to do this? How my supposed to let the man I once loved so deeply give me a baby and then simply walk away? Will that break me all over again? I don’t believe it will, but I also know not to trust myself when it comes to things like this.

Christian is waiting in the living room when I enter the apartment. I note the way my body reacts when I see him, perking up, and feeling light. It’s the same way I used to feel when I came home to our apartment and found him waiting for me. I also note the way I’m suddenly aroused, my body craving more of the feelings that he can give me.

“Hi.”

“Hello,” he says. “You seem out of breath.”

“I was running a little late so I walked here really fast from the subway.”

He smiles. “You didn’t have to do that. I’m not going to walk out of here if you’re five minutes late.”

“That’s good to know,” I say, dropping my purse onto the couch. “Shall we?”

Christian stands. “Of course.”

I don’t make him wait in the living room this time; instead I immediately head into the bedroom and start to strip. I’m down to my bra and panties when Christian catches me by the waist and hauls me against his body. He’s already shirtless, and my arousal flames into full force just from touching him. “You got somewhere to be?”

“No,” I say, a little breathlessly.

“Then what’s your rush?”

I feel color rise to my cheeks. I look away from him, suddenly embarrassed. I don’t say anything, but neither does he. And I know from the way he’s looking at me that he’s not going to do anything until I answer his question. Finally, I find the words. “I’m ovulating.”

“Ah. So you’re excited,” he says.

“Yeah, I am.”

He slides his hand down my waist, his fingers slipping into my panties before I can protest. “And probably very horny too,” he says. The way his fingers are slipping through my wetness, there’s no doubt that he already knows just how ready I am for this.

I manage a smile. “I’m very ready for you to get me pregnant.”

“I think you’re ready for more than that.” He slips a finger in my pussy, and I lose my breath. He doesn’t hesitate, immediately adding a second finger. His thumb rests gently on my clit, pressing in circles, teasing me and keeping me on the edge.

Christian curls his fingers up and back, stroking my G spot. I rise up on my toes with the pleasure of it, and he keeps steady. His fingers bring waves of pleasure quickly, stroking, stroking, stroking, until I’m gasping for breath.

“You’re too good at this.”

He smirks. “I know.”

He fits the third finger inside me, strumming them across my G spot like I’m an instrument that he’s meant to play, and I moan. “I hate you.”

“Yes, but right now you love my fingers.”

I grab his biceps trying to steady myself, and he wraps his free hand in my hair, holding me in place. “Your fingers are the only good part of you.”

He leans down so his lips are almost brushing mine. “I think you might live to have a conversation with my cock about that.”

I want to come back and say something witty, but now he’s thrusting his fingers into me as well as stroking inside me and all my words are gone. My orgasm rises up almost out of the blue, shocking me, taking me swiftly and hard. It swirls up my spine through my chest out into my hands and my brain and my breath, and I gush onto his hand and down my legs.

He teases me through my orgasm, using his thumb to send additional sparks of pleasure through my body. I relax down from my toes breathing deeply, and Christian chuckles. “Maybe you don’t hate me after all.”

“Oh no,” I say, “I still hate you. But you happen to be very talented in the orgasm giving department.”

“You didn’t ask.”