Page 54 of Delta

"Ah lord god oh fucking Jesus," I say, feeling my orgasm work its way through me, preparing to rip me apart in a way I know I’ll never be the same. "Bryn! I'm—oh fucking god in heaven, Bryn. I'm gonna come, oh god I'm gonna come so fucking hard!"

"Yes! God, yes. Give it to me, give it all to me!"

She's coming yet again, screaming and crying, literally sobbing and wailing, losing the ability to function as I fuck her into oblivion. She collapses forward onto the bed, but I'm not done—I hold her in place and keep fucking.

And then the sun explodes inside me.

My soul shatters.

My body is obliterated.

This isn't an orgasm, this is…rapture.

I don't know what sounds I make, what I say, what I do—all I know is the sweet wet heat of her spasming pussy, the lush wonder of her body taking everything I’m giving her and demanding more and more. The rush of cum is an endless flood spurting out of me and filling her in wave after wave, and I pound her through each surge, cracking my hand on her ass cheek and then gripping the meat of it, driving deeper as my orgasm destroys me and keeps on going.

I come back to myself slowly, dizzy and breathless. "Holy fuck." She sags forward, and I slip free. "You're dripping my cum, Bryn."

She rolls to her back, panting. "I really, really hope you 're clean, because that was seriously reckless of me."

"And I really, really hope you're on birth control, because same."

She looks at me, her expression carefully neutral. "I am. Never missed a dose. I know I'm clean, because I haven't been with anyone in almost a year, and only one person for several years before that."

"Neither are true for me, I admit, but I am clean. I was tested just a month ago, and I'm not normally so reckless as to go without a rubber. I can show you the report, if you like. It's on my mobile."

She shakes her head, a small smile on her lips. "No, it’s okay. I believe you."

You really shouldn't trust me—is what I think, but don't dare say. The fucking irony of it is that I want her to trust me—I've never craved anyone’s trust more. Yet here I am, deserving that gift, the very least of anyone alive.

Fucking monster, me.

"Gonna clean up," I say. "Right back."

"Bring a washcloth?" she yells after me.

God, I'm a fool. Fucking her bare? What the fuck was I thinking? I don't do that. It's my one unbreakable rule. I may be a randy horndog with a wandering dick and too few scruples, but I keep my shit bagged up. The world only needs one of me, and even that may be one me too many.

I wet a washcloth and clean myself up, then wet another and return to Bryn. She's laying on the bed watching me, smiling, hands laced behind her head, legs crossed ankle over ankle. So fucking beautiful.

I don't believe in love, but I think if I did, I might be tempted to think I'm half in love with this girl already.

God, that would be stupid, wouldn't it? Falling in love with the woman you're supposed to sell into sexual slavery?

Good thing I don't just not believe in love but am allergic to it. I repel it. Based on history, at least.

She reaches for the cloth, but I keep it out of reach. "Nah, love. Let me. Please."

She drops her hands, but hesitates, searching me. Now that we're done and the wild heat of the moment is spent, she's shy?

She keeps her legs crossed and pressed together, swallowing hard.

"Cmon, love. Open for me." I sit on the bed's edge next to her, waiting.

She covers her face. "It's a lot.”

I lean over her. "Hey. Nothing to be embarrassed about, sweetheart. Sex is messy."

I press a palm against her thigh, and she slowly relinquishes the pressure, opening her legs for me. I swipe the cloth down through her folds, gathering my seed. Fold it, drag it down again, and a third time.