“Yes, darling?”
“Harder.”
I go harder, making sure to drag my cock out at just the right angle, making sure to rub against her clit as I sink all the way in. I relish the feel of her ass in my hands, the blue glimpse of her schoolgirl socks out of the corner of my eye. The awakened, happily agitated look on her face as she stares down at where I move between her legs. The cross necklace sliding and jumping along her chest as I thrust.
“Does this little nun need to be fucked?” I murmur to her. “She’s gone too long without it and now she has to have it?”
“Yes,” she squeezes out, eyelashes fluttering as she looks up at me with eyes the color of treasure and earth. “Oh, yes, Sean—oh, oh—”
“I’ll fuck you anytime you want, little nun,” I say into her ear, my arms cradling her back and head as I drive into her down below, picking up the power and pace and letting her feel my strength. “Anytime you want.”
And it’s as she’s coming with a bowstring-tight cry that I hear what I just said, and what I just said slices a gash of hope right across my open heart. Maybe we don’t have to end with her vows, maybe she’ll interpret the vow of chastity as loosely as the radical sisters around her interpret obedience. Maybe I can be her lover still, a cicisbeo to a bride of Christ.
She salts the hope-gash within seconds of it opening; as she comes down from her climax, clinging helplessly to my shirt, she murmurs, “I’m going to miss you so much.”
It’s said in a gauzy, fuzzy way, the kind of careless words that slip out in the unguarded softness after orgasm, and I can tell by the way she continues to cling and sigh as I chase my own release that she doesn’t know how that simple comment has gutted me, how it’s punctured something vital and now I’m bleeding everywhere between us.
She’s going to miss me.
She’s going to leave me.
And I’m going to die when she does.
“Come inside me,” she says into my chest. “Come lots.”
“Can’t,” I grunt. “Can’t.”
I pull out, my wet erection resting on her belly and then it happens. I come lots, making a few short, staccato strokes along her stomach as pleasure hooks hard in the pit of my belly, and then I fill the condom with a ragged breath, pulsing heat while my cock throbs right above where her womb is inside. The thought makes me come even harder, like a primal caveman eager to spend inside a woman and plant his child there.
But there will be no child, and there is no claiming.
God claimed her first.
I keep her close until the last jerks have settled, and when I pull away, Zenny coos appreciatively at how much I’ve given her, which sends a jolt to my flagging dick.
“Can I throw this away in here?” I ask, nodding my head to the condom.
Zenny laughs. “It won’t be the first time there’s been a condom in the shelter trash.”
I tie up and clean off, but when I’m turning back to Zenny as I’m tucking myself away and zipping up, I find her completely naked and leaning against the counter with not a single stitch of clothing left on her body except those damned knee socks.
“More,” she says simply. “I want more.”
I prowl to her, a growl rising in my throat. “More of me?”
“Yes,” she says, her tongue running along the top edge of her teeth.
“More of these things you’ll miss?”
If she hears the bitterness in my voice, she doesn’t let on.
“Yes.”
I trap her naked form between my arms, bracing my hands at the edge of the counter around her hips. “And what will you miss, Zenny? When you become a nun, when you marry God?”
“Your cock,” she says bluntly. As unhappy as I am with the turn her thoughts have taken, I’m proud of her for using the filthy words I like. I’m proud of her boldness.
“It’s yours. Anytime you want it. What else?”
“Mmmm, your mouth,” she says, and I take my cue to chase kisses all down her neck and between her breasts and along the firm skin of her belly. I sling her leg over my shoulder and open up her sweet cunt to my mouth, and then I show her all the tricks and twists and hungry sucks that will make her miss my mouth all the more.
Her hand tangles hard in my hair and yanks, I can hear the rasp of her knee sock against the waffle-weave of my henley and it drives me crazy, I swear to fucking God.
“I’ll miss your fingers,” she moans, as my hands get to work.
“The scruff on your jaw,” she says, as I leave her rough scruff-kisses on the inside of her thighs.
“The way you look at me when you’re eating my cunt, like you want to eat my heart.” And sure enough, I’m looking up at her from between her legs, making sure she sees how wet my mouth is every time I pull away for a breath.
“What else?” I rasp against her flesh. “What else?”
She hesitates and then plunges ahead. “Feeling you come inside me. For real.”
That makes me pause. Think. Stand up.
“Keep going,” I order.
“Wondering if you made me pregnant.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “Being pregnant.”
Oh my God, this woman. This woman and my poor, aching cock, hard all over again for her. Because of her.
I splay my hand across her tummy, low and insistent and selfish. “My baby here?” I ask, in a dangerous purr. “You’d miss feeling my baby grow inside you?”
“Yes,” she confesses. “Wouldn’t you? Wouldn’t you miss it?”
“Of course I would. Of course I do.” I keep my hand large and demanding at her belly while I kiss her until she can barely breathe. “I think about it all the time. Every waking moment and then it’s in my dreams too. You carrying my baby. You nursing my baby.”
At the word nursing, I pluck gently at one of her nipples, and it’s as if I’ve struck a gong somewhere inside her. The tiny movement seems to reverberate through her body, sending goose bumps hurry-scurry all over her flesh.
“Fuck,” she mumbles, and I have to smile because she sounds like me. I bend down and lick at the furl I’ve just touched, opening my mouth and running my tongue along her areola, across the tip of her nipple in gentle flickers.
Then I stand up. “What else?”
“Marrying you,” she whispers, and then she looks away like she can’t bear her own words.
My heartbeat is threatening to vault right out of my chest. Could she actually love me back? Babies and marrying—those are love actions, love words, surely she means that she misses the chance to do them with me and not just in general—
I’m going to tell her. Right now, when our hearts are full and honest and raw with appetite. I’m going to tell her.
But she beats me to speaking. “I want you to fuck me,” she says, voice growing shy. “…back there.”
I’m so tangled up in practicing my declaration of love that I very nearly miss this. “Pardon me?”
“I mean…anally,” she says, and the kitchen light is too dim for me to see the reddish hue at the apples of her cheeks, but I know it’s there. “I want to try it at least once before…”
Before she leaves me.