Page 64 of Shiver
Watching myself come apart. Seams popping. Voices that are so far off I don’t know what they’re saying pinging around in my head.
I feed Egon. Letting him warm my dick when he fights me about food. Making eating a game so he forgets that he’s not on my cock. He’s insatiable, never wanting me to be outside his body. He wants me fucking him, even when he’s sore and raw and needs a break.
It’s almost like he knows that I have unrest. That something is happening to me. I can see it in his eyes. His desperate need to have me. To feel the pleasure only I give him. To be connected to me. For me to hold him and take care of him.
I’m not doing anything different. I still tell him how good he feels and I mean it. Everything that comes out of my mouth is absolute honesty. I’m definitely into our sex. It’s excellent. Consuming. So fucking good that I drown a little more with every time.
I don’t think I’m doing anything to cause him to worry, but with each time, with each orgasm, he becomes a little more frantic for more. For not wanting me to move away from him. To keep my dick in his body.
By Sunday, I think I am visibly a little off. I can’t put my finger on it. Though, I try. Over and over, I try to determine what’s wrong.
It’s not the sex. It’s still too fucking good. So good. I don’t want to stop. This isn’t a chore. It’s not boring. There’s no hassle in it. Everything I’ve felt in the past regarding hookups is absent. This is new and so amazing, it’s addicting.
It’s not Egon, either. He’s perfect. The way he responds. The way he talks. What he says. How he touches me. His desire for me. Egon is everything.
I don’t know what’s bothering me. No matter how I try to figure it out, I can’t. It’s on the tip of my tongue, though. Just out of reach. A thought that’sright therebut stubbornly remaining silent.
I’m afraid.
Sunday is a repeat of Saturday, Egon becoming even more reckless and needy as he keeps my cock warm. His chest heaves, his strong fingers dig into my thigh. He knows I’m struggling with something.
“Rake,” he whispers. I can hear the note of upset.
Wrapping my arms around him, I kiss his shoulder. Over and over, I kiss him. But I don’t have any words to ease his mind. In that moment, I feel it. A pit in my stomach. I feel sick.
I hug him to me, holding onto him so tightly that I only make him more upset. He burrows down on me, trying to get more of my cock inside him. As if this connection is all we need and it’ll make everything go away.
I don’t bother with lunch or dinner. Every time Egon wants me inside him, I fuck him with everything I have. Until midnight rolls around and I’m so lost in the throes of another orgasm that I’ve almost forgotten everything.
Feeling light. Happy. My body relaxes as it fills the condom in Egon’s ass. As I hear his shouts of pleasure while he messes across my bed. Again.
It’s so fucking intoxicating releasing in his ass. So good. Feeling his ass clench around me until I lose my load. It’s a maddening, sweet, sweet pleasure that I can’t get enough of.
We collapse and I remain there. Lodged inside him, even as I soften.
I can’t wait to fill his ass without a condom. Mark him inside and out as fucking mine.
The thought is still ringing through my head as I fall asleep. Still wrapped tightly around Egon. Still in his ass, though slowly falling out as I soften. His gentle breathing is soothing. His hand gripping mine, our fingers twined together, is perfect.
I sleep soundly.
But when I wake up in the morning before the sun, everything inside me is dark. The urge to get away is fucking consuming. To run. To forget it all.
Too much. Too much. I can’t do this.
The panic that fills me is enough that Egon stirs. I let him go and launch out of bed, nearly sliding into the bathroom as I shut the door. Slam it. Lock it. And stumble to the ground as I heave for breath.
Fuck, what have I done? I’ve gone too far. I don’t have the time for this. I’ve already lost an entire fucking week to him. A whole week. A week of preparing my dissertation. A week of working on my master’s classes. A fucking week.
For what? Sex?
Too much.
This isn’t what I signed up for. I can’t keep doing this. Not even for sex. Not for Egon. Not for anything. I can’t do this; I can’t be what he needs me to be. I just can’t.
I can’t give him what he wants. I’m not there. I’m not,notemotionally equipped to do that.
A knock on the door has me jerking away from it. I must look at it as if it’s covered in blood.
