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The first thing I learn about Maeve: god does she shudder when I kiss the nape of her neck as we come one after another. It’s a trick I learned from a torrid one-night stand with an Oxford grad student (not my department) back before Emily, and it’s like it was made for Maeve. When she goes so far as to bury her face in my chest as the pleasure is still rippling through me, I feel so much joy at making this woman happy. She drapes herself over me, like she can’t get enough of our skin touching. It’s the kind of affection I had to beg for when I was with Emily.

“So I require performance reviews after every go,” I say. “Out of five stars…?”

Maeve chuckles, her chest knocking softly against my stomach. “Leave it to a gay girl to make grinding that hot.”

I run a hand through her hair. “Wait until I fuck you.”

Maeve takes my hand, sliding my fingers slowly down the length of her torso. My own breath catches as her stomach muscles contract under my fingers. “You sure those fingers can do more than look pretty?”

She lets go of my hand as I reach between her legs. It’s one of those questions that doesn’t need a verbal response. I just put on my best smirk and rub a couple circles around her clit. She doesn’t make a sound, but the crunching of her abs speaks volumes.

“I dunno, babe,” I say. “It’d be a shame if they’re just for show, though.” I slide my finger around her opening, lubing up. “This okay?”

“Yeah.”

I slip it inside her. She’s soaked.

I slip another finger in. It’s such a deep, primal feeling, a breathlessness that washes over me as I explore her. I never thought I’d miss the feeling of being inside someone so badly. My fingers curl around, pressing against that sweet G-spot. The little buck I get makes me smile.

“You good?” I ask. “Can I go deeper?”

“Yes.” It comes out as a sigh.

My heart races.

Am I showing off? Okay, a little. But hey, it’s to get that squeak of pleasure as I feel my knuckles knocking against her pelvis, pulsing to the quickening of her breath. And with all my attention on her, I can gauge her every reaction. The way her cheeks get pink, the way she holds me as I rub circles around her nipple. For a while, I just soak it all in. Memorize the feeling inside her, how hot her breath comes on my skin, how hard she slams her hips against my hand as I pulse.

“Up to your standards?” I tease.

“Absolutely,” she replies. She lets out a breath. “But one request?”

I stop. “What?”

She grins. “Can I ride you?”

My stomach gives a little flip. Fuck, no one has asked me for that before. Back in my baby gay days, Emily would just ride me, but there were no questions. She also wasn’t too good at checking in about fingering either, but—

No. Focus. Maeve wants me under her. Which is fine. She still needs my fingers. I’ll give it a shot.

I pull out and drop back onto the sheets. The spot is hot from Maeve’s body. I rest my right arm by my chest as Maeve straddles me. Shit, I have to just sit with that a moment—Maeve straddling me. She smirks a little as she eyes my hand. Honestly, I should’ve seen this coming once she yanked my belt off in her office, but here we go. My heart is slamming in my chest as I slide back inside her. Same come-hither, same up the knuckles. But she’s the one pulsing. Fucking me? I don’t even know what to call it. But it’s thrilling in a way I never expected. And with this view, I have Maeve on full display. I may think of myself as an actress, but she’s putting on a little cheeky show for me too. Chewing on her lip, throwing her head back to expose her neck, reaching down and teasing my breasts.

By the end of her performance I go back to pulsing as eagerly as she rides me. We’re in perfect synchronization, and I can see that it knocks her to the bone. And for all that the ease in her posture and face are fucking killing me, she collapses into me as she comes, and the way she says “God, Val” is music to my ears.

“Let’s make you come too,” Maeve says as we hold each other. “What do you like?”

“Anything but penetration,” I say. “Not my style.”

She kisses my neck. “I can work with that.”

“Great. Gimme a minute to catch my breath, though,” I reply.

I kiss her forehead and wash my hands off. My forearm aches, my fingers are settling into that characteristic stiffness that comes after a good fuck, but it’s an ache I strive for. I’m aching because I made the woman in my bed happy. No better reason to hurt.

I flop back into bed. Maeve’s turned to me, but her desire seems to have cooled a bit. She’s looking at my crotch, though, so what do I know?

“Does this scar have a story too?” she asks, reaching down and—

And, well, running her finger along the scar on my upper thigh. My chest twinges.