Freeing one hand, I place it against his cheek and kiss the corner of his mouth. My fingertips stroke the edge of his hair and the shell of his ear. I want to state the fact that he’s still rock solid, so he can’t be hating this that much. I don’t. Instead I give him a moment to find his calm. I won’t force him into this, but I won’t let him back away out of fear and habit.
“Damn it, Guinevere,” he snaps when my leg tightens reflexively and pushes his hips down a fraction, causing the head to rest directly on the entrance.
“What’s so bad?” I ask calmly, working my fingers through the side of his hair. “Really… it’s just me. You know me. I’m clean, I’m healthy and… I care about you.”
“You know that’s not the point,” he mumbles, turning his face into my hand. The movement forces him to sink in a fraction of a centimetre. I wince at the tightness of the skin trying to give to let him enter. We both moan; it feels good, even if it is uncomfortable. “Damn it.” I watch as his eyes close and he pushes forward. My slick channel slowly swallows the head. I feel it pop inside and shudder at the size of him. “Oh god, Gwen, you feel…” He pulls out slowly and my eyes close much like his have.
Slowly he glides back in. “Nathan,” I whimper, when he manages to push his way in a few inches. It aches, oh how it aches in the best way. “More.”
My legs tremble as he pulls out again, leaving only the head inside. If I thought the burning was bad before, I was wrong. This is overwhelming. His pelvis finally joins mine, my smooth skin against his trimmed, dark hair. Honestly I can’t believe I’ve managed to fit him to the hilt; it feels glorious, especially when he starts to grind against me, his pubic bone rubbing against my swollen clit.
Whatever fears he seemed to have only moments ago have definitely gone. His hand leaves mine and pulls my thigh further up his hip, unhooking it from around his leg. This lets him in even deeper. I feel him hit the wall at the back of my core and hear him grunt at the obstruction, but not in annoyance or pain.
Almost chocolate brown eyes come to mine, nothing but lust and wonder in their depths.
I almost feel like I’m taking his virginity and I guess, in a way, I am. There’s something really satisfying about that, knowing that out of everyone, it’s me he’s chosen to share this with.
“You feel so good,” he tells me and slowly begins pumping in and out. I smile for a moment, but it’s interrupted by a loud cry escaping me. The loud cry is because he pulls out sharply and slams inside. For some reason this sets off a chain reaction in my body that starts in my womb and works its way down my legs, clenching every muscle within its grasp. Yes I was tingly, but this… this orgasm had no warning. I wrap my arms around his neck as he gets more enthusiastic with each plunge, most likely due to my reaction.
The lingering vibration that my orgasm left behind doesn’t subside, it only goes on for what seems an age before it builds again and explodes outwards. Down below I clench and release, over and over again. His breath becomes harder and faster, as do his thrusts.
Our foreheads touch once more, our eyes squeezed shut. I want to look at him but I just can’t; my body is no longer my own. I’m floating on a wave of orgasmic bliss, the feeling constant.
It’s not long before I feel his body tense and I know he’s going to come. This was exactly the time he pulled away the last time we had intercourse. This time it can’t be classed as intercourse; this passion, this feeling that we’re creating together doesn’t have a title. It’s too good to be so clinically named.
He starts to lift and I know with one hundred percent certainty he’s going to pull out and deny himself the orgasm his body so clearly wants and needs. I’m not a psychiatrist and I don’t know how to deal with abuse victims, but in this case I’m choosing to not let him run. Maybe it’s the wrong choice but right now, in my heart and mind, it feels like the right choice.
“Gwen.” His tone is panicked. He stills completely. “Let go.” I force my legs around him tighter and use my heels to push him back in. “Gwen!” He shoves up, his torso leaving mine to catch the chill in the air. “Let go now!”
He’s going to pull out. Should I let him? I don’t know what to do.
No. I’m not letting go. Placing my hands on his neck as he goes to break free, I begin grinding my hips up towards him.
He doesn’t say stop; he’s too close to the edge. Instead, his arms buckle but he catches himself before he drops on me and his torso jerks as his length swells even larger and begins to pulse inside of me. His hips begin hammering into mine. A loud, guttural cry leaves him as he presses his face into the pillow by my head.
It’s brutal, his size, his strength, the way his hips piston up and down, forcing him in and out of me quite a few times. As his orgasm reaches its peak, he slams into me three times, still moaning loudly, and it’s his moans that bring me over with the force of his delivery.
We stop at the same time. I can feel and hear our heartbeats intermingling. It’s a strange sound, but a soothing one.
When my body finally becomes my own, I roll Nathan off me. He stares up at the ceiling, his face a blank mask. I don’t talk; he clearly needs a moment. Crossing my leg over his, I pull his arm out and rest my body into the side of him, my nose against his neck.
He doesn’t hold me, not like he did the last few times. He just lies here beneath me, breathing heavily and staring at the ceiling.
My gut gnaws at my insides. Did I push him too soon?
I guess I’ll find out soon enough. For now I just want to rest here with him, enjoying the silence; or enjoying the calm before the storm, as it were.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I’m not sure when he left the bed. I passed out at some point after we shared that amazing experience together. It’s still dark out, though, so I can’t have been asleep for too long.
Wrapping the sheet around me, I climb to my feet and set out in search of Nathan. He’s probably upstairs in his room.
He isn’t.
Sigh.
The study!
I follow the dark hallway, my mind not on the possibility of ghosts but on how Nathan is feeling.
I tap lightly on the door but get no response, so, doing something I’ve never done before, I push the door open and peek inside.
Sure enough, he’s sat in his comfy looking leather chair facing the window with a small glass of amber liquid in his hand. He looks tired and worn, which isn’t surprising given the kind of activity we participated in. I’m shocked that he hasn’t heard me take a few steps into the room, although he does seem very lost in his thoughts.
Instead of speaking, I step in front of him and move between his parted knees. He still doesn’t look up.
“One of my favourite things about you is how kind you are, even when you don’t want to be.”
He doesn’t respond, only brings his drink to his lips and takes a healthy swig.
“And how good you are with Dillan.” He continues staring straight ahead, my covered navel the only thing in view. “And how intelligent you are, and how little you ask for, yet you give so much in return.”
A shallow breath leaves him as he places the drink on the desk by his laptop. He reaches for me and presses his face against my navel. The top of his forehead just reaches where my ribs join. I place my hand in his hair and keep hold of the bed sheet with the other.