Page 58 of A Gold Medal in Love

TWENTY-FOUR

IMANI

Excitedly,I retrieve Blake’s lubricant, sitting back in their lap and producing it like it’s my own creation.

Toys are good, but there’s nothing like feeling your lover's body inside yours. I’m aching for Blake’s fingers, ready to do anything to achieve it. I feel like I’m vibrating as much as the device they had inside of me was—I’m seconds away from rubbing myself against them like a cat.

I give in—just a little. I might get punished, but I need more of them. I reach up with both hands to run my hands through Blake’s silky cornhusk-colored strands, and just like that vegetable, their locks are satiny smooth. I don’t know if I’m just feeling everything turned up to eleven right now, or if I’m just so enamored with them that every touch feels like I’m getting closer to the god that they pray to.

If I’m going to be on my knees for anyone, it’s going to be this person right here. God never loved me the way that Blake Floquet does. I’ve never been so cherished or so cared for. How am I supposed to move on from this dynamic and find another Dominant who treats me like I’m their reason for existing? Fuck stupidly falling in love with your first girl in a sapphic relationship, someone should have warned me about having theground disappear beneath your feet in your first D/s.DidBlake tell me that?

No one knows right now. I’m so spaced I can barely remember anything other than the chanting of SirSirSir BlakeBlakeBlake in my brain; I am unmade and remade with every pass of their lips, with every brush of their fingertips; I am simultaneously broken and whole.

I’ve never U-Hauled before, but I’m beginning to see the appeal. It’s only been two weeks, and I’m ready to give up nearly everything just so this never fucking ends.

Blake squeezes lube onto their first three fingers, grins broadly, and eases them inside of me.

At their insertion, I remove my hands from their hair, grab onto their biceps, throw my head back, and moan loudly. I am singularly focused on riding their hand. If I can perform well, if I can be good and take their whole hand, surely they’ll allow me to come?

I’d love to ask, but all that comes out of my mouth are more moans.

Fortunately, this causes Blake to growl their approval, swirling those calloused ivory digits into me, eventually landing on my G-spot.

Using my hands to anchor myself, I lean forward and nuzzle my face into the crook of Blake’s neck, opening my mouth to bite down.

“Eesh, Cupcake. You are truly a very naughty girl. I should probably put more fingers inside you if this is your response,” they gasp and then laugh.

No thoughts, just the urge to mark them. I know I’ve been feeding the rumors but playing it off so far—I know people probably saw us kiss in that pub, and then I practically ran into their arms after the skate. So far, it’s been a lot of denial on mypart, because I don’t want to open the box that’s labeled “After the Olympics Plans.”

But right now? The need I have to claim Blake is overwhelming.

More tears slip down my cheeks as I disengage my jaw and feel a fourth finger breach my body.

“Fuck, Cupcake, I love being inside of you. You feel so goddamn good,” Blake growls, setting a rough rhythm that makes me keen.

I run my hands from their muscled arms, up to their sizable traps, and down to their pretty pink breasts. Still panting into their neck, I massage the gorgeous tits I don’t usually get to touch as I move over Blake’s hand like a champion bull-rider.

Their suavity on display, Blake manages to apply more lube to their hand even with my body trapped against theirs as I am—I hear the click of the bottle as the only accent to my sharp, panting breaths that ring in the room alongside the soundtrack of our joined bodies.

The sound of my air intake becomes choppy and harsh as Blake manages to slide their thumb into my orifice. I have completed my task; I have taken their fist.

I’m so full, and what’s more is the knowledge that it’s Blake, my Sir, my dominant, who fills me so completely.

Unfortunately, I fear that I have shorted out and gone boneless. I slump down onto Blake’s lap, pushing their arm further inside of me, and then I fall back so that my body lies upon their legs.

“Just rest, Cupcake. I’ll fuck you until you come, my little ragdoll.” They easily go with the flow, not slowing down in their movements as they fuck me on their lap in this perpendicular position.

When I come, it’s like sinking into a peaceful bath that also somehow has an electric toaster thrown in, except I’m not dying, I’m becoming. And, inconveniently, I black out.

When I come to, Blake and I are still naked, but my permed hair is loose from its confines; I have a hot, wet washcloth on my forehead; and I’m tucked securely against their front under soft blankets.

Pushing away from their body just enough to look into their eyes, I feel everything hit me all at once. The panic consumes me. “Blake!” I raise my hands and scratch desperately into their back.

“What do you need, Cupcake? I’m right here,” Blake assures me with the utmost gentleness, holding me close and beginning to rub soothing circles into my hip and back.

I bury my face into their breasts and begin to cry. My scant fingernails dig deep into their back, assumedly leaving divots in their back.

“Shh, shh. Cupcake. You’re safe. Everything is all right. I’ve got you, and I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” Blake utters with strength and authority.