I frowned. “What?”
“You know what I was doing earlier with my tongue?”
I nodded, still not taking my eyes off him. But I didn’t really need to hear his next words to know what he was getting at. In fact, I didn’t wait for him to say them. I moved my right hand between us, my left still gently gripping his forearm.
I’d never touched myself before, but there was a familiarity to it now, thanks to the experience Rafe had just given me. Still, it felt a little weird, considering the pain that was shooting through my body.
He slowly pulled out, not daring to go nearly as deep as I’d plunged him. As he inched gently inside me again, I closed my eyes and tried to focus on the good sensations my touch brought. It was tough at first, but soon I convinced myself that the warmth had overwhelmed the sharp pain his every movement brought.
Maybe it was mind over matter, but for whatever reason, it worked. Gradually, pleasure overtook pain, and I saw that I might very well be able to have a second orgasm. He’d promised multiple orgasms a day for the rest of my life, hadn’t he?
That thought filled me with warmth—more warmth than my own touch. It also helped me relax. I opened my eyes to find him staring down at me, the intensity in his eyes just as sharp as it had been before we’d started. But the intensity faded a little once he noticed I was looking up at him. Intensity was replaced by warmth.
“I’ve got you,” he said, his voice just above a whisper. “I’m right here. I’ll always be here.”
I nodded, but I was trembling all over. My grip on his forearm had tightened, but it was looser than when I’d first become aware of it.
I kept my eyes on him as long as I could, but soon enough, the warmth was spreading through me. Since I’d gotten used to the pain, the pleasure was free to take over.
At some point, I became aware in the back of my mind that I was biting my lip, but I didn’t bother to stop. Instead, I let myself get carried away.
Soon came something I didn’t think was possible. Heat began in the area where our bodies met, quickly rising until it reached my neck and my cheeks. And then I was gripping his forearm for a completely different reason as my body transported me to that place. A place I wanted to stay forever. A place he’d promised to take me often.
I didn’t realize I was crying out until his voice joined mine, his roar matching my high-pitched “ahh.” Even though I was nearing the end of my orgasm, having him reach his at the same time was even more fulfilling. We were coming together…in every way possible.
When I finally opened my eyes and looked up at him, I knew I had a big, goofy grin on my face. It seemed to be contagious. Slowly, his mouth spread into a smile too.
Was he thinking the same thing I was? I sure hoped so because I wanted to spend forever with him. But suddenly, mysmile faded and I gasped as the reality of the situation hit me all at once.
His smile collapsed like a balloon deflating after someone stuck a pin in it. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t be a mom right away,” I said.
I watched his reaction closely, hoping he was on the same page I was. He remained completely neutral, though.
“You don’t want kids?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No. I mean, yes, I do. At least one. Probably two, because all kids need a sibling, right?”
That was silly. I knew plenty of only children, and they were just fine. But I wanted at least two. And I wanted Rafe to be the dad.
We’d do it together. As partners.
“I want kids,” I continued. “But my mom started way too early. I always said I’d get my career going first.”
“Your career? As a designer?”
Oh, shit. That was something else I needed to get out. I closed my eyes and tilted my chin, staring up at the roof. How did I explain this to him? It might scare him away.
“I’m not an artist,” I said. “I’m not a social media influencer, either. I’m a writer. That’s what I’m being paid to do anyway.”
He tensed above me, and that made me aware that he was still inside me. He’d never gone very deep, but now he withdrew, pulling completely out of me and sitting up, hand on each of his thighs, as he stared down at me.
“You lied?” he finally asked.
I shook my head. “I went to school to be an artist, but I did some writing while I was in school. I loved it. When I got out, I couldn’t find work. I started writing essays. I lucked out and sold one, and from there, it just got easier.”
He frowned. “Oh.”