I love her the only way I know how. I worship her with my body, surrounding her. Holding her.
I let her know she is not alone in her pain.
“How does it feel?” I ask.
“All right.” Her voice is thin. “Hurts, but not as bad now. I’m adjusting. Just—”
“I’ll stay right here until you tell me to move.”
“Look at me.”
I open my eyes, not realizing I’d closed them. The things I’m feeling, the sensation of being inside Annabel—I guess it was all too much to experience with eyes wide open.
Or maybe I couldn’t face the reality of our situation, and so I shut my eyes, and shut it out.
I know I’m tumbling down a very slippery slope when I meet Bel’s eyes. She rolls her hips, guiding me out, then back in. A mini-thrust.
Her brows come together, features tight. But she does it again. And again. Undeterred and unafraid, she keeps her gaze on mine the whole time.
Her expression gradually melts from discomfort to pleasure. She grabs my ass and urges me to fuck her deeper, faster, as the lube creates a slick sound between us.
Eventually, we begin to move in tandem. I deepen my strokes and then deepen them again. Her pussy relaxes around me, welcoming me deeper with every thrust. Her tits bounce, and her mouth falls open.
My balls tighten as sparks erupt in my core. I’m getting close, but if I focus, I can hold off for a little while longer.
I want to hold off as long as I can. I don’t know if this is our first time, our best time, or our only time.
All I know is that I want to give it my all.
I put a hand on the headboard, another on the bed, and I fuck Bel with everything I’ve got. I grind my pelvis into hers, swiveling my hips at the crest of each thrust. Hitting her clit, I kiss her shoulders, watching her shake and plead.
She meets me stroke for stroke. Moaning. Good, loud moans that mean she’s not embarrassed.
I fucking love it.
Somewhere along the way, we’ve started to sweat. The smell of sex fills the room. Lube is everywhere—all over our hands, the sheets, our groins.
It’s messy. Animal.
But the way we watch each other, gazes never wavering, it transcends the physical. The connection between our bodies, our eyes, electrifies the air around us. It buzzes with possibility.
Emotion.
It scares the shit out of me, but I couldn’t stop if I tried.
“Honey,” I pant. “I’m gonna come.”
Her fingertips rake up my sides. She arches up, pressing her tits into my chest, and then kisses me. Wrapping her arms around me, she creates a cocoon of arms and legs.
Giving me a safe place to shatter.
My heart erupts at the same time my dick does. The orgasm rises up to meet me, sudden and strong. We collide. It knocks the wind out of me, and I bury a shout in Bel’s neck. She puts a hand on the back of my head, gently stroking my hair while I come undone.
Trembling in Annabel’s arms, sweaty and spent, I feel more a man than I have in my entire life.
We stay like that for a while. Bel holding me. Me holding Bel. Her body is warm and soft, mine warm and hard. A perfect fit.
I keep telling myself I need to get up. Clean us up and get the fuck out of here. The longer I stay, the blurrier the lines become.
If only the thought of going home to an empty bed didn’t fill me with dread.
It’s just so warm here. Cozy.
If leaving is the right thing to do, then why does staying feel so fucking good?
After a while, when we’re relaxed and sleepy, Annabel murmurs, “Beau?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t mean to ruin the moment, but you’re kind of crushing me.”
“Oh shit, I’m sorry.” I lift myself onto my forearms. “I, uh—you make it real easy to forget myself, honey. Here, I’m gonna pull out.”
She winces as I ease out of her. I head to the bathroom and come back with a warm washcloth, holding it against her.
“Sore?”
“I’m gonna be, yeah.”
My stomach dips. “I’m sorry. I tried to go slow, but—”
“But I made you forget yourself.” She smiles, and I struggle to breathe when it touches her eyes. “I already told you, I like it when you lose your shit.”
“And I love it when you’re all lit up. Jesus Christ, Bel, you’re gorgeous.”
But you’re not mine. Which is why I have to leave.
Now.
I’m opening my mouth to lay down some bullshit excuse—work, early morning, dog I don’t have—when Annabel interrupts.
“You’re thinking of blowing me off,” she says, throwing my line back at me. “Don’t.”
I clear my throat.
“Don’t make me do something shameless. Like guilt trip you by saying this is the first time I’ve had sex since the traumatic experience of my daughter’s birth, and it’s the first time I’ve felt this good since I got pregnant, and the goodness is so overwhelming that if you leave I literally might cry because I can’t stand the thought of ending such a wonderful experience alone.”