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He stilled, letting me adjust once again to his size.
“Easy,” he soothed. A gentle hand pressed over my lower abdomen as if he could feel himself through my flesh. He was waiting, working me gently. I gave him a small nod to signal that I was ready and, slowly, he drew out before slipping back inside, hitting the very end of me. I arched off the bed, gasping. My toes curled as he hit that spot again, that spot so deep inside it was almost painful.
My core tensed and relaxed around him, trying to cling on for release, but too sensitive to stand the friction. He dove into me regardless of my building desperation. I gazed up at him, pleading. I didn’t know what I needed, but I silently begged him to do something to get me to the edge. He seemed to understand.
He drew himself out of me all the way and held himself poised at my entrance, my hips in his hands. The mist was gone from his eyes, replaced with a carnality that almost frightened me.
I barely had time to whimper before he surged into me. I cried out and arched my back.
“Look at me.”
I forced my gaze to his and he fell into me again, quickly finding his punishing rhythm. His drives were controlled, precise. He knew exactly which spot to hit and, instead of pausing a beat between strokes, he pounded into me relentlessly from root to tip.
His fingers dug into my hips, leveraging me on and off his cock as he tried to fuck me out of his system. I reached up and pulled him to me, taking his mouth in mine as my climax grew.
He thrust inside and held himself there, impaling me on him, suspending my orgasm in mid-air. I writhed, trying to find the friction. He smiled cruelly and just when my climax started to slip away, he picked up his pace again.
He licked at the sweat on the base of my throat as he pushed into me over and over. His punishing strokes drew my orgasm from me.
“That’s it,” he coaxed as I moaned my release.
As I trembled, he pushed harder and harder, trying to force me out, to exorcise me from his soul. He almost looked as if he hated me. I pulled him close and held him as he released himself deep inside. I felt it coating my flesh, so full of him it dripped out of me as he continued to thrust lazily, forcing every last piece of pleasure from me.
Sweat beaded on my skin and I struggled for breath. We lay, coiled around one another, slowly coming back down to earth.
“Am I out of your system yet?” I panted.
“Shut up,” he grumbled, his face in the crook of my neck.
For once, my mind wasn’t at war. In his arms, all of my questions quietened for now. His mind, however, was deafening. I held him, his face still hidden, but after a few minutes my core was crying out for freedom and I nudged him gently. He groaned in disapproval.
“Alfie, please.” I squirmed and he picked up on my discomfort.
“Are you alright? Does it hurt?” He pulled away immediately and looked down at my opening as if checking for damage. I closed my legs instinctively.
“Don’t do that. Let me look.” He parted my legs again and touched me gently. I flinched. I was so damned sensitive. He frowned, guilt written on his face.
“I’m fine, Alfie.” I sat up, my legs still draped over his thighs. I kissed him gently. His eyes had softened by the time I drewaway. He pushed me back onto the pillows. I didn’t resist and fell back with a sigh.
“Stay there.”
He disappeared into the bathroom and came back a moment later with a damp washcloth. I couldn’t hide my surprise as he set about cleaning me.
“Have you done this before?” I asked him.
“Aftercare? No.”
“Aftercare? I’ve never thought of it like that before.”
The corner of his mouth lifted in a smile I didn’t understand, as if he knew something I didn’t. I decided to leave it alone, instead revelling in his gentle care of me.
When I was clean, he returned the cloth to the bathroom. I stretched out on the bed, relishing the stretch in my muscles.
“You’ll spend the day with me today,” he said when he returned. I stifled a smile as he lay down beside me, pulling me into his arms.
“Can’t. I have plans today,”
“Plans with whom?”