Would it matter?
What if I told her it has been twelve long years since I’ve held a woman all night? The last woman was Joslyn.
The night before she dumped me as a matter of fact.
There’s no surge of anger or resentment. As I hold her warm body to mine, the feeling of her breath fanning across my chest divine, I can’t even feel sadness for what was lost. I’ve always been an “in the moment” kind of man anyway.
Christ, I’m tired, which gives me the perfect excuse to just lay here and hold her. We were up all night going at each other.
And this Joslyn is a grown woman now—one who does as she pleases and takes what she wants. I like it a lot.
I was in control at first. With her hands tied behind her back, her knees pressed into the carpet, and those blue eyes pinned onto mine, I fucked her mouth. It felt better than I could have imagined, and I had to stop practically as soon as it got started. Her throat wasn’t where I wanted to empty myself.
I often will fuck a woman from behind because it negates the intimacy of sex. It gives me a barrier by which I can pull totally into myself without having to look upon the beauty of a woman’s face. Selfish, I know, but I’d never feel that way about Joslyn.
So when I saw the full-length mirror in that sodden big-ass closet of hers, I knew I could have the best of both words.
It was torture pulling out of her mouth and not being able to slide right home between her legs, but I’m still painfully aware of how much I hurt her the last time we were together. I hadn’t even bothered getting undressed, so it was important I showed her in every action that this was different.
Sadly, I untied her hands, promising myself the belt would go back on at some point in the night. There was a lot of kissing and touching as we disrobed. She was dripping wet by the time I put her back on her knees in front of the mirror and bent her forward. When her palms hit the carpet and her fingers dug into the pile, I drove into her in one long, sweeping invasion that caused her to cry out and tighten around me.
It was the absolute best thing I’d ever felt in my life—our eyes locked through the mirror’s reflection. While her face twisted and morphed through phases of pleasure, I fucked her from behind slowly and as deeply as I could. She came once, then a second time just as I had, and I thought if I died right then, my life would be complete.
I’d picked Joslyn up, carried her to the bed, and the rest of the evening was a combination of touching, whispering, talking, and fucking. Over and over again.
I shift slightly, rotating my shoulder just a bit. Joslyn’s been dead weight, most of her body on mine. Stroking her hip, I relish the velvety softness of her skin. She’s filled out over the years in all the right places. Gone is the lean body of youth. In its place is a gentle fullness in her curves.
Joslyn stirs. If I lay still, she could easily fall back into deep sleep, but we do have things to do today. I move my hand from her hip, slide it over an ass cheek, then I push a single finger into the valley between.
Joslyn groans and pushes against me, her voice rough with sleep. “Not again. I can’t anymore.”
Chuckling, I pull my hand back. Four times over the course of the night has probably left her a little sore.
Her body moves, adjusts, and I peer down. When she tilts her face, our eyes meet.
“Good morning,” she says, and I hate the tentative tone.
“Morning,” I reply with a smile, leaning enough so my lips can graze against her forehead.
“You stayed.” There’s too much wonder and awe in her statement.
“Why wouldn’t I?” I tease.
She cocks a perfectly arched but highly skeptical eyebrow. “You didn’t the last time.”
I grin. “Touché, kitten. But truth is, you broke me last night. I didn’t even have the strength to leave your bed.”
For that, I get a sharp elbow in my ribs while she laughs, but then she snuggles in tighter than ever. I move from my back to my side so we’re facing each other, wrapping both arms around her. Our faces are so close it makes staring difficult as she goes all blurry around the edges.
“Last night was intense,” she murmurs.
Loosening my hold, I put enough distance between us that I can focus on her face. Her cheeks are pink, hair all messy and tangled. She looks like she got fucked four times last night… and not once was she held back upon.