Getting Her Back

Christian groans, and every part of him tenses as hot come splashes onto my tongue. He spends himself, working his cock until it’s dry, filling my mouth with salt. I wait until he’s finished before I swallow everything, showing him that I took it. He looks at me, that same dark fire in his eyes as he pulls me to my feet and bends me over the bed, fitting his still hard cock against me.

“I can come as many times as you want, sweetheart,” he says, pushing into me. I cry out with pleasure, and he keeps going until he’s in me to the hilt. I can feel him everywhere. His legs are against mine, his chest pressed on my back, his fingers tangled with mine, cock pinning me to the bed. It’s overwhelming, amazing, and I have no words, no breath to respond to him.

And then he starts to fuck me.

Long, deep strokes that hit me in just the right place to make me see stars. God, this is beyond anything we’ve done so far. I’m saying his name, screaming it, begging for more and he gives it to me. He moves one of my hands with his, scooping it under my body and finding my clit. He guides my fingers, teasing me, and I come in a brilliant fire of white light. I can’t breathe, still dazed from pleasure, but he doesn’t stop fucking me or using my hand to get me off. I’m bombarded with sensation and oh my god it’s amazing. I have no words.

I think I’m about to come again when Christian stops, slows his rhythm and I lose it. I moan, “Why?”

“Because I’m not done with you yet,” he says, and his breath on my neck leaves goosebumps on my skin. He’s frozen, not moving anything except for my hand. It feels strange, to be guided in pleasuring myself. And it feels different, being stuffed full of his cock. It’s like everything is amplified. I’m more sensitive, more aware, and he works me to the edge with just his fingers. “Do you want to come again?”

“Yes, please,” I beg.

“Then, come,” he says, rocking his hips and stroking my fingers across my clit. I shudder into an orgasm that shakes me to my core. It feels like slow lightning, moving through my nerves and crackling behind my eyes. “Fuuuuck,” I curse, drawing out the word as the pleasure flows through me.

Christian chuckles darkly. “I will,” he says as he starts to fuck me again.

Renewed pleasure flows through me with every stroke, and I’m shaking underneath him. Letting go of my hand, Christian takes control of my clit, deftly working me with his fingers. God, this is everything. Every nerve in my body is crying out, almost too sensitive and yet begging for more. Fuck, yes, please. Christian groans, speeding up as he gets close. He’s so close, and so am I, and I’m barely holding it back.

“Come with me,” Christian says.

I breathe, “Yes.”

We’re almost there. I can feel us building together until the last second, and then he presses down on my clit, and with a final thrust I break open. I shout out my climax and Christian comes with me. He plunges in again, and again, one final time as he pours himself into me. Yes. Sparkling fireworks are crackling across my skin, sparking from my clit an all the way through my body. I’m blind with it, barely breathing, only able to let it have me.

Suddenly it’s gone, and we’re lying together, both catching our breath. It takes a while for us to move, but it feels like we take a breath together. Christian slips out of me and steps to the bathroom to clean himself off, and I move onto the bed and the now familiar waiting position. Christian comes back and lies next to me, sighing with what seems like pleasant exhaustion. Suddenly I’m nervous again, because I have to talk to him. The sex is easy. We’ve never had a problem with the sex.

“Christian,” I say, “I need to ask you something.”

He makes a sound of assent, a little sleepy. “Sure.”

“Why did you agree to do this? When you knew it was me? What made you want to help me?”

Even though he doesn’t say anything, it feels like all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. I look over at him, and his eyes are shuttered. Like all the life has gone out of them. I wait, but he doesn’t say anything, and every second the silence grows louder. “Why?” I ask, and nothing. Suddenly I have rage in my chest. After everything, he won’t give me this? He owes me at least this much and more.

I turn toward him as much as I can. “Three years ago,” I say. “Why did you leave? Was the idea of a baby with me all that terrible? And if it was, then why are you willing to do this now when you can walk away?”