Page 41 of Little Monster
And it’s everything. It’s shaking legs and panted breaths. It’s a sheen building up on my low back from the fire burning through my body.
I’ve fantasized about Dex fucking me, have even touched myself to the thought of him, but even in my wildest imaginings, it was never like this. I always imagined him bending me over and doing me hard, having his way with me, leaving me trembling. Butthis, what he’s doing right now, is even better. It’s deep and slow. It’s transcendent. It’s borderline holy.
I cry out as he thrusts into me. His fingers rub harder against my clit, and I’m building up again, breathing faster, closing my eyes. In my mind, I see his head between my thighs, the shimmer of his tongue as it slips inside of me.
“Holy shit,” I whisper.
His skin slaps mine, harder now, faster.
And then he takes me there. My walls clench and throb around his dick, my toes curling as I let out a moan that even my neighbor must hear. He continues to fuck me through my orgasm, his fingers touching me more gently now, easing me down from my explosive high.
“Fuck,” he bites out. He drives his length into me one more time, burying himself deep, then pulls out.
He cums on my ass, grunting through his release. Heat rolls down my cheek and onto the back of my thigh. The sensation makes me shiver.
For a moment, neither of us speak. Dex lowers my leg, then pulls my body against his, wrapping his arms around me and burying his face in the side of my neck. His chest pressed against my back, I can feel the rapid beating of his heart.
Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.
My lungs heave as I try to catch my breath, and as my orgasm subsides and the racing of my heart begins to slow, a tidal wave of emotion crashes over me.
I want him here, with me, forever. I want to make love on the kitchen counter, then eat greasy Chinese takeout and play video games until we fall asleep. I want him to sing just for me, and I want him in the audience every time I step onstage.
But that’s not real life. That’s a fantasy, one that will never,evercome true.
And that realization makes my eyes flood with tears.
I want to blame it on the hormones coursing through my body, and that probably plays a small part, but as I kneel here cradled in Dex’s arms, his breath warm against my neck, I feel terrified that he’s going to leave.
I’m a fool. I knew what could happen. I warned myself time and time again to stay away from him. But his pull is like gravity; I tried, I fought, but in the end, I couldn’t resist it.
A tear slips down my cheek, and he must feel it, because he pulls away slightly.
“Nora? Are you okay?”
I force out a light laugh, not wanting to reveal the torrent of emotions raging through me. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired now.”
He nuzzles his face into my neck again, and his scruff tickles my skin. “Then fall asleep with me.” His voice is gruff, quiet, and his words make my heart pick up its rapid beating again.
Is he going to stay?
I figured he’d get dressed and leave right away, add another notch to his bedpost, but it seems I was wrong.
I’m so glad I was wrong.
Dex flops down onto my bed. He puts a hand under his head and closes his eyes, looking completely at ease in my bedroom, the salt lamp casting a warm orange glow across his face.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell him, then quickly slip off the bed and head into the bathroom.
Once the door closes, I let out a breath, and a few more tears slide down my cheeks before I quickly swipe them away. I want to sob and wrap myself around his body, to have him hold me until I know he’s not going anywhere. But I can’t do that. Crying is just going to scare him away, and I barely have him as is.
I quickly pee, then grab a washcloth and wet it down with warm water. After washing his cum off my thigh, I check my face in the mirror. My freckled cheeks are flushed, and my brown eyes are tinged with a touch of redness from the alcohol and tears. My hair is mussed, so I quickly run a hand over it while brushing my teeth. When there’s no other way to bide time, I take a breath, steady myself, and head back into my bedroom.
Dex is partially under the covers now, his chest still exposed, and when I walk into the room, he reaches out for me.
“Come on,” he whispers.
And I slip back into his arms like it’s where I belong.
