Page 54 of Don't Leave Me
“Me, too.”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “It wasn’t just sex. I didn’t jack off at all while I was inside. It didn’t help both my hands were messed up for a while, but beyond that, sexually, it was like a switch was turned off inside me. The other night after we texted, I almost did it, but I had this crazy idea I should wait for you now.”
“Marc,” I sighed. “I don’t know if sex is the answer to our problems.”
“We should have some and see.”
Then he dipped his head and kissed me. Like it happened every time, the world just fell away. His were the only lips I’d ever touched. His breath the only breath I’d ever tasted. There was always a sense of rightness when we kissed. A coming home.
Until his tongue started stroking mine, until his teeth started nipping at my bottom lip. When that happened, the safety and the comfort that was Marc became an infusion of sexual heat and energy.
I didn’t know if this was a good idea. I didn’t know if this would make matters more complicated or less complicated. Ultimately, I didn’t know if I wanted to give Marc a chance, a real chance, to make us a family.
In order for me to believe he could truly overcome everything that had happened to him, I needed to know he loved me. I needed to know he believed in that love. He told me, promised me, he never would. At least he would never say it, never express it. While I understood his reasons, it didn’t hurt any less. Because I needed the words. I used to think they weren’t important, but now I could see they were.
Now was the time to stop him, if I was going to, but I couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Over a year without him. Over a year without touching him. Over a year when there were times I didn’t think I would ever let someone inside of me again.
I felt like a thief. Like I was stealing a few more memories of what it was like to make love to the man I loved. He lifted me effortlessly from his seat. Managed to bend down so I could grab the baby monitor, then took me inside my bungalow, down the hall, to the room across from the nursery.
Carefully, he laid me on the bed and took the monitor from my hand to set it on the dresser.
“Get naked,” he ordered.
“You get naked,” I fired back.
He didn’t hesitate. He pulled his shirt off and I could see, again, the definition of his body. Hard muscles, thick biceps, ripples in his abs more than I could count.
He’d been hot before. Now, he was ridiculous.
I’d fallen in love with him when he was twelve and scrawny. Loved him still when he was fourteen, tall and lanky. When he was sixteen and star of the soccer team, all lean muscles.
It didn’t matter what version of him I had, only that I had him.
He kicked off his boots and socks. Shucked his jeans and briefs, then stood over me wearing nothing more than a very serious expression and a massive erection.
“Touch me.” Another demand, but I could see it was beyond sexual yearning. It was as if he needed to prove this was real. That his desire was real. I gripped his dick in my palm and stroked him. Gently at first, then more aggressively.
“Take off your top,” he said, through clenched teeth. “I need…I need…”
I knew what he needed. I always knew what Marc needed. I released him only long enough to pull my top up and over my head. Then I undid the front clasp of my very non-sexy, single-mom bra.
Marc got on the bed and kneeled between my thighs, his eyes fixed on my breasts.
“They’re different after Danny,” I tried to explain. They were fuller, rounder, my nipples more pronounced.
He moved over me, so his knees straddled my waist.
“Do it again. Touch me.”
I reached for him, stroking him again even as his hands reached for my breasts. Lifting them, thumbing the nipples, which were super sensitive now. More than they’d been before. I could feel each touch shoot internal darts directly to my pussy.
My palm was damp with his pre-cum, and I used it to make my strokes glide more smoothly. Not that I was stroking him as much as he was fucking into my fists. I looked up at him and saw his eyes were closed. He was in some state in his head, as if he, too, had thought he would never know this feeling again.
“I’m going to come,” he barked. “Tits or mouth? Shit.”
Because there was no option then, his hips were snapping and warm streams of his cum were shooting out onto my chest. It seemed endless, until finally he was bending over me, breathing heavy.
And then I heard it. A sob broke from his throat. I reached up and wrapped my hand around his neck, dug my fingers into his scalp. His eyes were still closed, his face was red. I wanted to hold him, but when I tried to pull him down on top of me, he pulled away.
