Page 50 of Fruit
“Bedside table,” he says, and I dip through the drawer until I find the packet, tipping it out haphazardly and grabbing one.
I sit just above his knees as I roll the condom on. His thighs tremble slightly as I stroke him a few times.
“Iva,” he says, and I stop teasing.
I sink onto him, his hands on my hips. He’s big, so I go a little slow, relishing in the way he fills me up, but then it’s as if a dam breaks. I pick up the pace quickly and his hands slide to my ass, squeezing and helping the rise and fall of my body as he starts lifting his hips to meet me.
He plunges into me hard and deep, and I get lost in the sensation. I tilt my face up, pulling at my own hair to anchor myself, but it doesn’t work. I lean a hand on his chest as the other rubs at my clit and feel the pleasure, feel Sebastián everywhere, a racing fire through my body.
I open my eyes and look at him. He’s already looking back. It’s not just me that’s on fire, it’s him too. I can see the shadow and light of it in his eyes. I lean down for a desperate kiss, licking up all the sounds he’s making.
“Sebastián, fuck,” I moan. The pleasure is hot and bright inside me, almost scorching to the touch. I can feel him trembling underneath me, his hips starting to stutter, and I’m there, right there at the edge that’s almost, almost enough, stretched thin and wanting, before I topple over it at once.
I make some sort of ragged sound, biting off the syllables of Sebastián’s name, riding him through my orgasm. His hands are tight on my ass, and he keeps thrusting into me until he’s gone, too.
“Fuck,” he cries out and comes. I kiss him through it, more a pressing of panting mouths than anything else, and his arms wrap around me, holding me tightly.
We come down from the high with my body slumped over his. His neck is sweaty, but I press my face against his skin, loving the scent of him.
“Oof,” I protest as I eventually roll off him. He grips the base of the condom to avoid it sliding off and then removes it, discarding it into a trash can before returning to curl his body against mine.
And that should be it. It should be slowing heart rates and comfortable silence, but he presses against my side and slips his fingers between my legs.
“Fuck, Sebastián,” I whine. I don’t need any more, but the rhythmic movement of his fingers, the way they change pace and roughness in turns, takes me away.
The second orgasm is slow to build. Sebastián presses his lips against my temple as I come, squirming on the bed, burning what is left of me.
We wrap around each other in the soft silence that follows. I can feel him breathe, and feel his heartbeat, and wonder if he can feel mine, too.
I wonder what it would tell him.
