“Sorry I’m an asshole,” he replies, his voice laced with sorrow and regret.
And I don’t know if I’m simply the most forgiving person on the planet or if I have a soft spot just for him, but that’s all it takes. I rush into his arms.
He welcomes me gladly, his lips meeting mine in a fervent mix of angst and passion. All of the emotion we’ve both felt is channeled into our reunion, hands traveling desperately over each other’s faces and bodies. All I See from Drew is dim lighting, panting, and the sensation of lips on lips. The multilayered make-out has me halfway to an orgasm already, and I’m finding it hard to breathe.
I break away to catch my breath and ask, “Is Nick here?”
Drew stares down at me intently and shakes his head. “He’s out.”
“Good,” I sigh before smashing my mouth against his again. He groans and pulls me closer, using his foot to close the door behind me before dragging me to his bedroom. The visions continue to wind up my core until he drops me onto the bed.
I realize I’ve had my eyes closed and open them to Drew almost completely naked already. He ditches the last of his clothing so I get a full view of his gorgeous body for a split second before he’s undressing me.
He barely gets my pants off before he clearly can’t take it anymore, his mouth diving between my legs. His need is so fierce that the collision of his mouth and my pussy drives me farther back on the bed.
And suddenly a vision of him fucking me fills my mind. My eyes snap shut and my head lolls back as the real-time sensation of his tongue on my clit while he slips his fingers inside me roll together with the feelings from the vision of his cock doing the same.
Unable to handle the overwhelming pleasure in my body and mind, I come hard and long, lights popping in my vision, curses streaming from my mouth. I haven’t even begun to recover when Drew mounts me, bending my knees into my chest as he drives into me, as his mouth covers mine.
He sets a furious pace that speaks louder than any words he could say. He needed me, badly. And I needed him. I tilt my hips to meet his thrusts as my tongue dances with his. The vision has subsided into reality, and our mouths stay locked together as our centers join over and over, until he’s pounding so hard I have to physically hold on to him to withstand it. To withstand the insane pleasure that hasn’t stopped since my first orgasm.
I whimper into his mouth and he pulls back to watch me come undone. I slide my hands over his skin and feel the slickness that has developed, that matches the slickness between our hips. My eyes roll back in my head as he tilts deeply into me, rubbing the head of his cock over my G-spot.
He clamps a hand over my breast, twisting at my sensitive nipple. I arch up as the sensation pushes me closer to exploding. And before I can ask for more, he’s switched up his thrusts, going slow and deep. An ache rolls through my lower half and grows. I reach desperately for my clit, but he stops me, pinning my hands over my head and leaning into me.
He shifts our hips so on each thrust his cock rubs over my clit before plunging deep inside to hit my G-spot. My legs start to shake as he speeds up.
Even with all the sex we’ve had, it’s never been this intense. I’ve never been so at his mercy. But he clearly wants to control my orgasm this time, as he continues to deliberately back off to prolong my pleasure. It ratchets me up and up to the highest peak I can ever remember climbing. Every inch of my skin is on fire. My nipples are hard and wanting. My body is soaked in sweat. My core aches and drips more with every second until I think I can’t take it anymore.
I catch his eye, observing the look of hunger on his face. “Please,” I whimper. I feel like I’m going to die if he doesn’t let me come.
He nods but doesn’t release my hands from over my head. But he does drop down, his head buried in my neck as he unleashes completely. His chest slides over my nipples, his cock over the sensitive spots between my legs, his lips over the skin of my neck. And in three more hard thrusts, I detonate, screaming loudly through a release so intense I fear it might melt me from the inside out.
He follows me over the edge, pulsing inside me, gripping me tightly as he groans into my skin. With one last shudder, he comes to rest on top of me. Too spent to wrap my arms around him, my limbs fall to the bed like the bones have been removed.
I’m too tired to even protest when he climbs off of me and heads into the bathroom. He’s not gone long, clearly as exhausted as I am as he sinks onto the bed and pulls me into him, my back against his front.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs in my ear. “So fucking sorry.”
I gather all of my strength and roll toward him. I place a hand on his cheek and look deeply into his eyes. There’s no vision. Just this moment.
“I know,” I assure him. “I’m sorry too.”
He shakes his head and begins to protest, but I put my lips to his. The kiss is languid yet full of so much emotion.
We stare into each other’s eyes until my eyelids begin to droop, despite having already slept earlier. But this has all been so exhausting. And now I know we both need each other. So we’ll figure it out. It’s enough of a weight off my shoulders to allow me to slip into a deep sleep.
I’m decidedly less relaxed when I wake the next morning to a sleeping Drew. I lie there thinking about last night, realizing I took his apology and the crazy connected sex for openness.
So when he wakes up and offers a sleepy, “Good morning,” I have only one response.
“We should talk.” I scoot into a sitting position and he follows.
“Yeah, okay,” he agrees, rubbing his eyes.
“I appreciated your apology,” I open. “But what, exactly, did it mean?”
He takes a deep breath. “It means I know I overreacted. And I was wrong to shut you out. It’s just … a difficult topic for me.” His nerves are written all over his face, and it makes me nervous in return.
“I understand that. But the way you got about it … is that how this is going to be? You’re just going to get angry and closed off when conversations get difficult?” I ask.
His heads swings sharply from side to side. “That’s not how I want to be. Not with you. I can’t promise I won’t ever get defensive, but I’m going to work on doing it in a way that’s not so …”
“Asshole-y?” I offer.
He chuckles. “Yes, asshole-y.”
“Does that mean we can talk about Amber?” I push.
To his credit, he’s the picture of calm, though I know based on his previous reaction how hard this topic is for him.
He slides a hand over mine reassuringly.
“I want to. I want to be able to tell you anything and not worry that you’ll think less of me for it —”
“Oh my god,” I gasp, my hand flying to my mouth. “That’s what you were worried about?”
He scratches at the back of his head self-consciously. “In part, yeah,” he admits. “Even though I know that’s stupid. But mostly I know we’re going to need to be able to talk about tough stuff if this is going to work. Just … maybe not that. Not yet.”
I press my lips together. The vulnerability he’s showing touches me deeply. And he’s absolutely right. If we’re going to be together as long as I hope we will be, we’re going to have to work out how we respond to each other in situations like this.