33. Nina #2
The moment we reach the bedroom, he kicks the door shut and lays me down on the bed. He climbs over me, eyes dark with want. “I need you again,” he murmurs, voice rough. “I can’t get enough of you tonight.”
He spreads my legs wide and slides back inside me in one smooth, deep thrust. I moan loudly, my back arching off the bed.
“Fuck… you feel so good,” I gasp, wrapping my legs around him tighter.
He starts moving, slow and deep, rolling his hips in long strokes that make me feel every thick inch of him. His forehead rests against mine, our eyes locked.
“Look at me,” he whispers. “I want to see you while I’m inside you.”
I moan softly with every thrust, my hands running down his back. He kisses me deeply, swallowing my sounds as he fucks me.
After a while, he rolls us over so I’m on top. I straddle him and sink down slowly, taking every inch until I’m fully seated.
“Oh god…” I breathe, my head falling back. “You’re so deep like this.”
I start riding him, rolling my hips in slow, sensual circles. His hands grip my thighs, then slide up to squeeze my breasts.
“Fuck, Nina,” he groans, watching me move on him. “You look incredible riding my cock like that.”
I lean forward, bracing my hands on his chest, and ride him harder. My breasts bounce with every movement. He sits up suddenly, wrapping one strong arm around my back to hold me close. We’re face to face, chest to chest.
“Kiss me,” he demands softly.
I kiss him desperately while continuing to grind down on him. Our tongues slide together as I ride him faster.
He suddenly flips me onto my back again and pushes my legs up high, folding me almost in half. He slides back inside me, even deeper now.
“Yes,” I moan loudly. “Right there… fuck me deeper.”
He thrusts harder, giving me exactly what I asked for. The wet sound of his cock sliding in and out of me fills the room.
“You feel so fucking perfect,” he groans, eyes locked on mine. “So tight… so wet for me.”
I’m losing control. The pleasure is building fast and intensely.
“I’m close,” I whimper. “Don’t stop… please don’t stop.”
“Come for me, baby,” he whispers, fucking me harder. “Let me feel you come on my cock.”
The orgasm crashes through me. I cry out his name, my pussy clenching hard around him as waves of pleasure rip through my body. My toes curl, my back arches, and I shake uncontrollably beneath him.
He groans loudly, thrusting through my orgasm until his own control snaps. He buries himself as deep as possible and comes hard, pulsing inside me with thick, hot spurts.
“Nina… fuck,” he moans against my neck, grinding slowly as he fills me.
We stay locked together, bodies slick with sweat, hearts racing against each other. Our breathing is the only sound in the room. Slow. Deep. In sync.
He finally lifts his head and looks down at me. His eyes are soft, almost unguarded. He leans down and kisses me slowly, tenderly, like he’s savoring the taste of me. When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against mine again.
“You’re shaking,” he whispers, brushing damp hair from my face with gentle fingers.
“I know,” I breathe, a small, breathless laugh escaping me.
He smiles softly, then carefully rolls us onto our sides without pulling out.
He stays deep inside me as he wraps his arms around my body, pulling me flush against his chest. One of his hands strokes slowly up and down my back.
The other cradles the back of my head, fingers threaded gently through my hair.
I press my face into his neck, breathing in the warm scent of his skin and sweat. My leg is hooked over his hip, keeping him close. Every small shift of his body sends little aftershocks through me.
Neither of us speaks for a long while. We just lie there, tangled together, hearts slowly calming down. His fingers keep tracing lazy patterns on my back. I press soft kisses against his collarbone, his throat, the underside of his jaw.
This feels different.
Just us. Bare. Honest.
He kisses the top of my head and tightens his arms around me, holding me like I’m something precious. I let myself melt into him, letting the warmth of his body and the quiet of the room settle over me completely.
Later, the room is dark and warm, and I’m looking at the ceiling, and he’s beside me, and I’m not running the logic, checking the wall, or taking inventory of anything.
I think about the woman who landed at JFK eight months ago, with a return flight booked for Monday and a file to build and a life in a one-bedroom apartment in Manhattan that she had carefully constructed over ten years to belong entirely to herself.
I look at the distance between that woman and the one lying here now.
It’s not a loss.
I know that, for the first time, without having to talk myself into it, frame it a certain way, or look at it from an angle that makes it easier to accept.
It’s not a loss. It’s something else entirely, something that doesn’t have a clean name yet, and I’m lying here in the dark next to a man I did not choose and can’t imagine not having chosen, and the ceiling looks exactly the same as it always has.
I close my eyes.
For the first time in eight months, I sleep before he does.