He probed the entrance of my sex with the wet head of his cock. He eased in, hitched my knee up over his shoulder higher and rocked into me in one slow, deep thrust. He was in me so deep, so thick and long, filling me so much I felt like I couldn’t swallow. Gasping, I clawed at his shoulder, tugged at his hair. Our eyes met, and I knew I was falling for him all over again, into those midnight eyes. I bit down on my lip to keep from saying that I loved him then.
Take it, wring every second of pleasure you can from this, but don’t think it’s more than that, more than a bonus night with an ex. Just because when he fucks you it feels like love, doesn’t mean it is, I lectured myself, or tried to. The words kept shearing off in shivers of sensation as his heavy thrusts tunneled into my body. I watched his cock going into me, his big brown hands on my hips, my breasts, then working between my legs right above where we were joined.
How did it feel this good? How could anything feel this physically perfect without actually killing me? It was blinding, icy ecstasy, spearing me in half as I rocked my hips, taking more and more of that long, perfect cock until my back arched with an electrical shock of pleasure building. I bucked, clung to his shoulders, our eyes on each other. It was so vulnerable, so connected deep down, body and soul.
“Andrew,” I gasped, saying his full name, which I only ever said when we were fucking.
“Chel, Chel, hold on—“ he said hoarsely, his thrusts building harder and deeper, the slick sound of our bodies crashing together making a filthy soundtrack to the wild sensations.
His lips brushed over mine, desperate, clumsy with the force of his thrusts, of our rhythm as we rocked together, building the pleasure higher and higher until I knew damn well neither one of us was breathing. It was killing me, a knife of pure pleasure low in my back and between my legs, and then his hips rolling with his cock buried inside me, hitting places so secret, so powerful that I sobbed when my release began to uncoil through me like a live wire lashing through my body.
Drew went rigid in my arms, his hips jerking into me, his cock impaling me so deeply I could feel his sac rubbing against my pussy. I screamed in pleasure as he cupped my face in his hand, held me even as I felt his climax detonate inside me. I caught the pad of his thumb in my lips as he bucked into me, as my body drank up the liquid heat he poured out. My hands flattened on his spine, as if I could hold him together under the onslaught of his orgasm that threatened to destroy us both. I was keening, high and breathless, with the force of it and the reaction I had to it. My pussy clenched tightly around him as shudders of fierce, teeth grinding pleasure held me in their grip.
When at last we were spent, he rolled onto his side and scooped me into his arms. I felt the wetness on my thighs where he had come so lavishly inside me. I felt decadent, debauched and lewd and satisfied. He dropped soft pecks on my lips, kissing my face and cradling me to him.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked, his voice low and careful.
“No,” I said emphatically, “you were perfect. Just how I remember only—"
“Only better and worse at the same time,” he said ruefully, “better because I know how special this is with you, and worse because we’ve been apart so long and I hate myself for it.”
“Don’t,” I said softly, “don’t.”
“Don’t you hate me for it?” he asked.
“It’s complicated. Yes and no,” I said. “Just hold me. Please.”
“There’s nothing I’d rather do,” Drew said.
16
Drew
Stretched out naked on the couch in Michelle’s basement, I was holding her in my arms. I couldn’t stop thinking that this was the happiest I’d been in as long as I could remember. It felt perfect. Every second of our bodies being joined felt like home. Everything she said and did just burrowed deeper into me, into my soul. I was elated, joyous. It all felt warm and still and perfect.
Would it be too soon, I wondered, to tell her I’ve loved her all my life? I knew better than to say something like that. Everything had happened so fast. Seeing her at the bar, telling her the truth, chasing her out into the street and kissing her. Now this, sheltering in a storm and giving in to the irresistible attraction between us. It was too much too soon, and I knew how she was wired. Michelle wasn’t a person who liked to be overwhelmed or pressured. So I would have to tell her in some roundabout way that this felt amazing and I’d like to do more of it. In a way that didn’t sound like I was moving in tonight and never letting her go again. If I needed to keep quiet and take it slow, I could do that. I had just bedded my high school sweetheart. I was invincible, and I could do anything.