My hand slid up her belly, between her breasts, and grabbing lightly at the lowest part of her throat.
"I love you, Shy," I told her, watching as her lips parted, as her eyes went soft while I gently started to thrust into her with short, small movements.
That surprise turned to joy which mingled with the pleasure my motions were creating, creating a look I would never get enough of, not even if I saw it a million times.
"I love you too," she told me, leaning back into me, her face angled into my throat where she pressed a kiss.
I kept my thrusts the same, slow, short, driving her up slowly as her breathing got fast and shallow, as her hips rocked, as her whimpers became pleads for more.
But I wanted it slow, just this once.
"McCoy..." she whimpered as her pussy grabbed my cock hard.
"Come, baby," I demanded, my hand sliding between her thighs to work her clit as my other hand tightened a bit around her throat right as her orgasm started to crest.
It tore violently through her, leaving her trembling and weak, relying on me to hold her up until she could start to recover.
"I can't," she whimpered as my hips started to rock again.
"You can," I countered. "You will," I added, thrusts getting a little faster, a little harder.
"McCoy," she groaned as I pressed her forward until she grabbed the counter again, her ass sticking out toward me as her gaze found mine in the mirror, eyes needy again. Just like I knew they would be. I'd fucked this woman damn near every day and night for almost five months. She always wanted more. And it never got old. "Harder," she demanded, even as my own desire screamed the same thing.
So I did what my woman wanted.
I fucked her harder as my hand slid between her thighs. "You're fucking dripping for me," I growled, working her clit.
Shy's hips started to circle as I thrust, an unexpected movement that had my cock slipping out of her and sliding back and up.
My gaze sought hers in the mirror, watching her reaction. A slow, deep breath moved out of her as her eyes burned even hotter.
"Yes," she said, even wiggling her ass against my cock.
"You sure?" I asked, pressing my cock more firmly against her.
She didn't give me any more words. But she pushed back against me, making my cock start to penetrate her.
"Fuck," I hissed, my hand grabbing her ass cheek hard as my cock slid slowly inside her.
"More," she whimpered as I paused halfway inside her, giving her time to adjust.
"One—" I started to say, only to have her push against me, taking my cock all the way with a low, deep moan.
"Fuck," I said, grabbing a handful of her wet hair as my gaze held hers in the mirror. "You're perfect," I added, starting to fuck her ass. Slow and tentative at first, but getting hard and faster as she begged for more.
My hand slid between her thighs, two fingers thrusting into her pussy as my thumb engaged her clit.
"You gonna come for me?" I asked, finger fucking her pussy, feeling her walls getting tighter and tighter.
"Y...yes," she cried, slamming her hips back into me as she got closer and closer.
"Fuck..." I growled as she started to come.
I worked her through the waves before planting deep and coming so hard that I damn near fucking blacked out for a minute.
When I managed to come back down, I found her gaze already on mine in the mirror.
"Where did that come from?" she asked, voice a little dreamy. It matched the look in her eyes.
"Just realized that I've been meaning to say it for a long time," I told her, sliding carefully out of her. "I've never been good at saying shit like that," I admitted.
"You show it really well, though," she said, turning, giving me a soft smile. "And most of the time, that is enough. But it is nice hearing it, too," she admitted as I tossed the condom before reaching for her again, pulling her in for a kiss.
"If it makes you look the way you're looking at me right now more often, I will say it as much as I can," I told her.
"I mean, that look might have something to do with the orgasms too," she admitted with a smile.
"Luckily, I never intend to stop giving you those either," I told her, sealing my lips to hers again.
It was a big deal to me. Loving someone. Telling them I loved them. But it hadn't been as difficult as I thought it would be. Hell, it ended up being as easy to say it as it had been to feel it.
Shy - 12 months
"He didn't tell you where we are going?" Belle asked, immediately suspicious.
See, Belle loved McCoy.
But having fully thrown herself into intensive self-defense training in multiple different styles while working with women at the local shelter, well, it had turned her more than a bit cynical and suspicious of any and all men.
They all tell me the same thing, she told me one afternoon over lunch. He was the man you least expected to beat or rape you. So much so that no one ever believes them when they speak up.
"Easy, Killer," I said, giving her a smile as she picked up her gym bag. "If he was planning on murdering and dismembering me, I doubt he would have had me inviting you along with me with all your ass-kicking skills," I finished as I followed her into the locker room at her favorite gym.
When I say Belle had thrown herself into training, I meant that for eleven months straight, she was at the gym at least six hours a day.
It had changed and shaped her in so many ways, both mentally and physically.
She'd gotten leaner and stronger with the outlines of abdominal muscles that made me the slightest bit envious. But only for a little bit, until I remembered my soft tummy was thanks to all the good eating I'd been doing at the Henchmen clubhouse thanks, almost entirely, to Eddie.
Emotionally, she was stronger as well. She'd gained the kind of confidence I only could have ever dreamed of for her. She wasn't the shy, unsure girl she'd once been. She was louder and comfortable with asserting her opinions and desires.
The girl I'd known who could barely look men in the eye now stared them down and damn near told them Oh, I wish you would, motherfucker.
It had been a strange adjustment period for me and for our relationship as she found herself, but once I got to know the new version of her, got to understand her motivations, and watch her passion grow for what she was doing, we had found our way back to the closeness we'd always known. Even if what we did and what we talked about was different than it used to be.
That was all part of growing up, wasn't it?
Pretty much anytime I wanted to see her, I had to come and drag her out of her gym. It wasn't my favorite place in the world. I mean, we've established that I had never been a workout kind of girl to begin with. But normal gyms intimidated me. And this was not a normal gym. It was for heavy lifting and rope climbing and tire flipping and actual hand-to-hand sparring.
So it went without mentioning that Belle was one of the few women that frequented the place.
They actually hadn't even had a women's locker room until Belle had pitched a fit about it after she'd been there for a few months.
The owner, a really hot guy in his late thirties with a sexy smattering of gray in his dark hair, had taken the criticism and converted one of the back storage rooms into a women's locker room. Was it the size of a shoebox that somehow managed to fit a set of lockers, a sink, and a minuscule shower in it? Yes. But it was the thought and action that counted. And Belle was over the moon about it. She actually decorated her locker.