She was so close.
As soon as he withdrew his hand she felt empty. His leg slid inside hers, his knee brushing against her calf. She reached around fumbling at his buttons, her fingers slipping like an over-excited child opening a birthday present. Finding purchase, she pulled his fly apart, feeling his zipper unhook, tugging at his pants until he got her message, wriggling his ass to help her pull them down.
Richard took over the task, pushing them down past his calves, and she followed him with her hands. She caressed his flesh, feeling his hard thigh muscles stretched under taut skin.
“Take off your top.” He knelt on the bed, pulling at his shirt. She dragged her tank over her head, flinging it across the floor in her desperation to be naked. His knees were on either side of her thighs, caging her in, making it hard not to stare at the outline of his hardness through his dark shorts.
Reaching out a finger, she traced a line down to his balls. He grew a little harder, the head of his erection emerging from his shorts, and she watched as a small bead of pre-come formed there. Leaning forward, she licked it off, and a strangled groan escaped from Richard’s lips. She did it again, running the blunt end of her tongue against him, and then twirling it around, kissing and sucking him with her mouth, using her hands to push his shorts a little farther down his hips.
Richard reached his own hand around to cup the back of her head, encouraging her lips into a steady rhythm. Dragging her tongue down the underside, she pulled her mouth back up, licking, kissing, tasting.
“Stop.” He steadied her head, and for the first time she looked up and caught his eyes. Her lips were still wrapped around him. His own mouth was swollen, still glistening, slightly parted to allow his short breaths to meet the air. “I want to be inside you.”
His words hit her blood like a shot of heroin. Hanna moved her head back, watching his hardness spring against the defined muscles of his stomach, then grabbed at his shorts, desperate to pull them from his body.
“Lie down.” He placed his palm flat against her shoulder, pushing her back onto the mattress, sheets soft and silky against her back. Kicking his shorts from his ankles, Richard moved over her, hands caging her head, until she was unable to turn, cornered like a hunted animal.
She was almost too wet. His hips pushed against her tender thighs as he lined himself up against her, pausing for a long, drawn out moment, before thrusting, pushing inside.
“Richard.” Her words were little more than breath.
He kissed her again. She could taste herself on his lips. His hips flexed, and he withdrew, dragging himself against her like a bow against a violin. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to keep her response under control.
“Open your eyes. I want to see you,” Richard’s movements were steady, but his words were not. He felt like heaven between her thighs, and she squeezed them tighter, hooking her heels around his back, dragging him in.
She was drowning. She wasn’t sure if he was going to save her or push her under.
“Are you close?” Richard’s breath was getting harsher, his movements erratic, and she knew he was nearing release. Hanna opened her mouth, but her words were drowned out by the sensation of his finger rubbing her, making small, delicious circles, drawing out her pleasure like an artist.
She cried out, burying her head in the dip of his neck, feeling his clamminess against her lips. His hips crashed against hers, her moans stifled by his flesh, her body clenching hard against him.
His groans amplified as he moaned against her ear, and even if she couldn’t feel him pulsing inside her, she would have known he was coming from the change in his breathing. He whispered a soft oath as he peaked, and she felt herself spasm again, grinding against him, as they clung to the long moments like slaves to sensation.
Then it was over.
Her wet, sticky thighs cradled his hips, his skin heavy against her body. Their harsh pants became longer, thinner, like stretched-out breaths, as they both crashed down. Reality hit them like a wrecking ball.
Lying naked beneath the man who she was all kinds of fucked up about, still hard inside her, Hanna knew she must look like shit. Her brown hair was crazy against the light blue of the pillow, her makeup skewed from a day of crying and a night of over-consumption.
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His hips lifted up as he withdrew, and Hanna let her head fall back onto the mattress, as she stared up at the silver and glass light fixture above the bed, letting the brightness of the bulbs burn into her retinas. Even with her eyes closed she could still see them, like a ghost of what could have been.
“Hanna, I…” He sounded as awkward as she felt, all stuttering consonants and drawn out vowels.
She blinked a couple of times, burned-in images turning from black to white, making her eyes sting. Richard rolled over beside her. She watched as he reached out, and then stopped himself, hand hovering in mid-air.
“Don’t.” Her voice was low and scratchy. She swallowed hard, feeling the dry wooliness of her throat. She wanted him to pull her into his arms.
“I’m sorry. I had no right to take advantage.”
“You didn’t, I wanted it, too.” She bit down on the inside of her cheek. The pain felt good.
Richard rolled onto his back, flinging an arm over his face, covering his eyes. She allowed herself to look at his body, her gaze moving from his neck, down to the taut, flat skin of his abdomen. Only moments before, that body was pressed down on her own, creating a burning fire as flesh touched flesh.
Now, she was shivering.
“Come here.” He pulled her against him, and her eyes fluttered shut. She wanted him to leave, but was desperate for him to stay. Knowing he was so close and yet so far away was achingly painful, numbed only by the sweet surrender of sleep.