Chapter Thirteen Fiona #2
I couldn’t say how long he let me lie there, trembling, slowly reassembling myself into something that resembled Fiona Fisher.
His lips were delicate pinpricks of feeling as he brushed kisses against my inner thighs, the iron band of his forearm against my belly loosening, his thumb caressing my hipbone.
The fingers of his other hand were still inside me, but they were still, like he knew if he moved them even a millimetre I would fall apart again, and this time, I might not be able to put myself back together.
‘Satoshi,’ I breathed.
He paused, looking up at me. ‘Hello.’
He smiled at me, eyes creasing just slightly at the corners behind his glasses, and – god, he looked so much like himself.
Out of nowhere, there was a lump in my throat. My next breath came out as a sob, and his smile shifted immediately into concern. ‘What’s wrong? Did I – was it…?’
‘No, no, no.’ Tears were beading at the corner of my eyes, but I blinked them away, smiling back at him. ‘Nothing’s even a little bit wrong. I’m just – it’s just – will you come here?’
He let me tug him up to me so I could kiss him, fingers slipping out of me as I cupped his face between my hands. ‘Thank you,’ I whispered. ‘For making me feel like this again.’
‘Like what?’ He braced himself on his right forearm, stroking the hair sticking to my forehead out of my eyes with his pinky.
‘Beautiful.’ I slid my nose against his, more tears springing to the corner of my eyes. ‘Desired. Wanted.’
His response was immediate. ‘You are.’
He kissed me – hard, this time, demanding – before he licked the fingers that had been inside me clean. ‘You have no fucking idea how badly I want you, Fiona.’
I should have been wrung dry, burnt out, but the sight of his fingers in his mouth did something to me, a spark catching anew. ‘I don’t know.’ I hitched a thigh around his hip so I could feel his cock, reassuringly hard between us. ‘I might have some idea.’
I caught his wrist, tugging his fingers out his mouth so I could take them into my own. He made a guttural sound as I ran my tongue along the length of them, the faint taste of me mingled with the taste of him, and then another as I fastened my lips around them and sucked.
I released them after a few moments. ‘Will you stand up?’
He did. My whole body still felt like liquid, quicksilver in the vague shape of a woman, but I managed to push myself to a sitting position.
My eyes were level with his nipples, and I leaned up to kiss one of them as I unbuttoned his pants and tugged them down his hips, taking his underwear with them.
‘Oh,’ I breathed. ‘Oh, Satoshi.’
I pressed my lips to his chest, then rested my forehead against it as I traced the length of his cock with the tip of my finger. He groaned again, his hand coming up reflexively to cup my head, then went very still as I wrapped my fist around him and stroked.
‘Fiona,’ he said.
I kissed his chest again, just over his heart, then slid off the bed, onto my knees. His cock curved very slightly to the left, I realised, as I licked along the length of it. He was reasonably well-endowed, but not so big that it would be painful; generous, rather than intimidating.
I flicked my tongue against the groove on the underside of the head. The sound he made was so sudden and so surprised that it made me laugh, humming against him as I took him into my mouth.
‘No.’ His hand tangled in my hair and tugged sharply. ‘Stop.’
I drew back immediately. ‘Did I do something wrong?’
‘No, no.’ His chest was heaving. ‘It’s just – this is about you. Not me.’
‘I want to.’
‘No.’ He tugged at my hair again, pulling me to my feet. ‘How do you want it?’
The subtext suddenly became clear. If I used my mouth on him, he wouldn’t last.
The sting of rejection eased, turning into something akin to satisfaction. He really did want me.
‘Hard,’ I said. ‘Fast. Fuck me, Satoshi. Please.’
It was my turn to make a noise of sudden surprise as he flung me back onto the bed, flipping me onto my front and pulling me up onto my hands and knees.
There was a mirror on the door of his wardrobe, and I could see him moving behind me, opening a drawer, taking out a foil packet, and rolling a condom on.
My mouth went dry at the sight of him, the long, lean lines of his body as he stood there naked, wearing nothing but the condom and his moss-green-framed glasses. You’re so beautiful, I wanted to say, but the words got stuck in my throat.
He knelt on the bed, positioning himself behind me, nudging my knees further apart so he could fit between them. The head of his cock brushed against me, and I braced myself.
But then, instead of pushing inside, he reached down and pulled me up to him. My back was pressed to his front, his left arm banded strong against me, his hand splayed open over my heart.
With his right hand, he guided himself to my entrance, and met my eyes in the mirror.
Every inch of my body was displayed in it – my slightly uneven breasts, sagging more than they once had; the softness of my belly with all its silvery stretch marks; every one of my insecurities laid bare – but when he looked at me like this, the strain of wanting and restraint on his face, it was hard to feel like anything but a goddess.
‘Are you ready?’ His breath was hot behind my ear.
I turned my head so I could kiss him. ‘Yes.’
The pressure of his hand against my breastbone increased. ‘Watch.’
It hurt a little as he slid slowly inside me – not much, not truly painful, just the pleasurable, aching stretch of unused muscles. I moaned with the sensation, head falling back against his shoulder, and he stopped. ‘No,’ he growled. ‘Watch, Fiona.’
‘You’re—’ I gasped, as another inch of him disappeared inside me in the mirror ‘—you’re the boss.’
His right hand traced the line of my thigh before coming to rest on my belly, fingers just brushing my clit as I took all of him. ‘That’s right. So let me give you what you need.’
He bit my earlobe, hips grinding against mine. This position didn’t come with a great range of motion, but it didn’t matter – I could feel him everywhere.
‘You’re in my bed, Fiona.’ He circled my clit with his fingers, as he pulled out then thrust sharply back in, so hard it made me cry out. ‘These are my hands on you. I’m inside you.’
‘Yes,’ I managed to say, as he thrust again.
‘Say it.’ The heel of his hand was pressed so hard now against my heart it might leave a bruise, holding me in place as he drove up into me. ‘Who’s fucking you?’
‘You are, Satoshi.’ I wrapped my hands around his left forearm, using it as leverage so I could catch his rhythm. ‘Just you. Only you.’
‘That’s – fucking – right.’ He bit the words out, short, staccato, punctuated with thrusts. ‘Tonight, you’re mine.’
‘Yes.’ I drove myself down onto him, taking him as deep as I could, ignoring the bitter protests of my knees and hip flexors. ‘Yours.’
It was fast and hard and urgent and sweaty, the kind of sex I would feel for days afterwards.
His fingers were insistent against my clit as he pounded into me, our skin slipping together as I tried to match him, the sound of it visceral, carnal, the sight of it in the mirror almost too much to bear.
‘I’m going to come,’ I panted, my legs shaking violently with the force of it. ‘Satoshi, I’m so close.’
He kissed the spot behind my ear – a featherlight gesture, small, chaste – and it tipped me over the edge.
The sound that came out of me was animal as I clenched tight around him, the white heat of the sensation going on and on as he bit my shoulder hard and groaned my name, driving as deep as he could and holding me there as he followed.
In this position, I had nothing to cling to but him.
I snaked my right arm behind me, hooking it around his neck in a way that would have been awkward and uncomfortable if my whole body hadn’t been drained of any semblance of resistance.
His left hand was still pressed hard against my heart, and I covered it with mine, twining my fingers through his.
He buried his face into my throat, heedless of his glasses. I could feel his breathing against my skin as he gulped down air, swift and shaky and uneven.
‘That was…’ I tried to find the right words to describe it, rubbing my cheek against his hair. ‘That was more cardio than I’ve had in a long time.’
His snort of surprised laughter was muffled against my neck. ‘Is that why your heart’s racing?’
I slid my fingers deeper into the gaps between his and pulled his hand up to my mouth. ‘Yes.’ I kissed the veins in his wrist, then the base of his thumb. ‘But it’s not the only reason.’
Satoshi looked up. His eyes met mine in the mirror.
And there wasn’t a single word I could find for what I wanted to say. None that could possibly encompass how it felt to be held by him, surrounded by him, enveloped by him like this; the flood of emotion it sent rushing through me.
All I could do was press his hand to my heart again, and hope he understood what I did not know how to express: that this meant everything to me.
When I woke later, it was dark, and I was alone.
I blinked, scrabbling automatically for my phone on the nightstand. It was just after two in the morning.
I didn’t know when I’d fallen asleep. I’d checked my phone at about half past ten when Satoshi got up to get rid of the condom, in case Elias or Jonah had messaged me about the kids.
There had been nothing, though, and I’d grinned as Satoshi emerged from the bathroom, an aggrieved Yquem in his arms. This was, I thought, as he cooed to her, holding her close to his bare chest and stroking her head until she calmed down, a very specific – and effective – type of pornography.
Then he’d come back to bed, and we’d lain down together, him spooning me. This is nice, I’d whispered, running my fingers up and down his forearm.
Mmmm, he’d replied, the vibration of his voice a low hum against the back of my neck. Yes.