Work Me Up

The orgasm takes me by surprise, creeping up on me when I don’t expect it. I cry out, my head falling back, and he runs his tongue down the length of my throat, still thrusting into me, his hips angled so his cock drags along my front walls, right over that sweet spot, again and again.

Then he slides one hot, rough palm between us, down, down, until his fingertip grazes my clit. He fingers me, still thrusting into me at the same time, and it’s more than my sensitive clit can stand. I cry out again, coming for the second time, feeling my pussy contract around his shaft, pulsing, uncontrolled.

My vision sparks, and my fingernails rake across Antonio’s back. I couldn’t help doing it if I tried; I’m barely even conscious of what my body is doing now, shaking with the force of that orgasm.

“God I love when you come for me,” he growls, lips on my neck, then back at my jawline, searching for my mouth.

I turn and kiss him hard, my hands fisted in his hair. “I want to feel you come now,” I breathe, my lips inches from his. “Come for me, Antonio.”

It doesn’t take him long. He repositions himself above me, grips my hips tightly, with purpose, and starts to fuck me harder, faster. I let myself go, my hips loose against his, arched up so he can have all the control, so he can take me just the way he wants me. His cock pounds into me, again, again, until I can feel his muscles tensing, his breath getting louder and faster.

I wind one hand through his hair and pull his face back to mine, catching him in a deep, hot kiss, just as his climax hits. He groans into my mouth, and the sound undoes me, the sight of him losing control turning me on so badly I can hardly stand it.

Because I do this to him. I make him come undone, the same way he makes me lose my mind.

When he finally stops moving against me, and comes to relax against me instead, both of our bodies feel loose and soft. He slides off of me, curling onto the couch next to me, and pulling my body against his, so we’re flush together, sharing body heat, our sweat slicked together.

He kisses my shoulder, the nape of my neck. I shiver, and he grins, one arm coming to rest around my waist. “You’re perfect,” he whispers against my hairline. “You know that, right?”

I laugh. “Hardly,” I mumble. But to my surprise, he catches my jawline, tilts my face back in order to make me meet his gaze over my shoulder.

Staring at me, his eyes dead serious, he repeats himself. “You’re perfect for me, Selena. That’s all I care about.”

My heart skips in my chest, and I hold his gaze, my pulse wild in my veins. “Antonio…” As we lie there gazing at one another, I realize something. Something I haven’t been letting myself think about; something that I’ve been avoiding with all my heart. But it’s something I need to do, if I’m ever going to overcome this. If I’m ever going to get better.

I pull my lower lip between my teeth, worrying it, and he glances down, a little frown of confusion appearing between his eyebrows.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, concern filling those dark eyes of his.

I swallow hard and force myself to keep my gaze on his. Because looking at him gives me strength. Reminding me of what we are to one another is what’s giving me the courage to say this. To do this. “I need your help with something,” I whisper.

13

Selena

My heart races so fast I’m surprised Antonio can’t hear it beating from where he’s sitting, two feet away from me. In the passenger seat of Betty, the car I helpfully nearly ruined just a little over two weeks ago.

It’s taken me a long time to build up to this moment. An embarrassingly long time, frankly. But with Antonio next to me, being patient as hell with me while I work through this, I’m finally starting to feel like maybe… maybe I can handle it.

We started small last week. Just me sitting here, right where I am now, in the driver’s seat. Then just me sitting here with the engine turned on — even though at first I had to leave the radio turned on high to drown out my own panicked thinking, to mask the sound of the engine as much as possible.

After that, we graduated to what Antonio tried to have me do last time — steering the car while he was out behind it, pushing me in neutral. I may or may not have panicked and braked a few times unnecessarily, leading him to smack into the car from behind with a groan. But after a few tries and a few more bruises for him, I got the hang of that too. Of feeling the car move beneath me without freaking out. Of gripping the wheel in my hands and steering my way around the parking lot of the garage.