Page 53 of Serving the Maestro

We were running out of time.

We both knew it.

I could see it in her eyes, and knew she saw it in mine.

So I rode her slowly, making sure she felt every slow, deliberate thrust, each teasing withdrawal.

But as she tightened around me, her orgasm coming closer, it got harder to hold back.

And when she started to spasm around me, my control shattered.

“Jazz...” Growling against her lips as she started to milk my cock, I moved harder, faster, determined to imprint every second of this on my mind and hers.

My orgasm hit while she was chasing her second, and she cried out in protest when I withdrew.

“We’re not done,” I promised. Then, for the second time that day, I scooped her up into my arms and carried her into her bedroom.

Putting her into the middle of the bed, I spread her thighs and drove into her again, harder this time.

She exploded, her nails clawing up my back, her hoarse voice shattering again as she cried out my name.

Pushing her thighs up and hooking them over my elbows, I fucked her harder, rougher, refusing to think about the hours creeping away from us.

How in the hell was I supposed to walk away?

How in the hell could I ask her if she wanted me to stay?

* * *

“When do you leave?” she asked, her back pressed to my front, her hand stroking the arm I had wrapped around her waist.

"Tomorrow," I told her, wondering if she’d ask me to stay longer. If she did, I’d find a way.

But she just sighed and kept petting my arm.

“I’m sorry,” I said a long time later. “I know how much you want a baby.”

She didn’t answer.

“Do you maybe want to try...”

Before I could figure out the right way to ask if she’d like me to hang around so she could maybe try one of the medical interventions, she shook her head.

“You’ve already held up your end of the bargain,” she said. “I need to figure out if I want to keep trying—even if it means more complicated stuff, or give up.”

Kissing her shoulder, I said, “You aren’t the giving up type, Jazz.”

“No.” She swallowed, the sound painfully loud in her quiet, night-dark bedroom. “But sometimes, it’s too painful to keep trying...to keep hoping.”

Long moments passed.

I wanted to tell her to...try. Hell, to encourage her to try. But I didn’t have that right, did I?

“I’m glad I met you, though, Trent. Even if things didn’t work out the way I wanted. Even though you’re leaving. I’m glad I met you.”

She brought my hand to her lips and kissed it.

I couldn’t answer then.

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