Chapter 33 #2
I want him in me even though parts of my body recoil at the idea. Tears threaten to gather because of course I had to ruin this special moment between us. The night has gone so well.
I might be able to go for longer if I can disconnect from my body. I’d rather be present to imprint tonight into memory, to mark it as the beginning of us, but if that’s what I have to do, then so be it.
He notches his cock at my entrance and presses his forehead against mine. Hazel eyes bore into me, seeking something I can’t make out. “You’ll tell me if it hurts, okay?”
I nod. I can’t taste the lie if it doesn’t come out of my mouth.
Leo eases back enough for both of us to look down, and I watch, hypnotized as he pushes the head of his cock into me, and the only thing I feel is pleasure.
The muscles in his abdomen shudder with his groan.
I force myself to keep my eyes peeled on where we’re connecting, fighting my body’s reaction to close them to relish in the delicious stretch.
I don’t need to see his face to know he’s watching me, cataloging every twitch and minute movement of my face.
There’s nothing quiet about my moan when the first rung slides into me. Needy, breathy sounds keep spilling out of me as he continues his slow descent, pausing when my brows slam into a straight line from the sudden spike of pain.
He takes my reaction as a result of the resistance he meets. He eases back, but the pain hardly subsides. I try to keep the reaction from my face and reach up to kiss him so he can’t see.
It’s my turn to bite his lip, and I’m acutely aware of how it makes his cock jerk as he pushes himself back in so agonizingly carefully.
I don’t have the heart to tell him that it’s too late for caution.
The ache won’t go away regardless of what he does.
It’s a power struggle between pleasure and pain.
Time will tell to see which wins.
Leo repeats the process of slowly thrusting into me, giving me time to adjust to him. He picks up the pace with each drive of his hips, never letting himself go all the way in.
His gentle care would make me emotional if my need to orgasm didn’t shove itself into the forefront of my mind. The hours of sexual torture are catching up, and the finish line is finally in sight.
But as the tension gathers in my core, so does the ache; it’s shooting into every corner of my stomach, and the pleasure falls back in this race.
I will my muscles to unlock. Force my eyes to stop watering.
I try to make my body relax and just fucking enjoy this moment, so I can keep hanging on long enough for Leo to come. But it refuses to listen.
The pain multiplies, and the sounds I’m making can’t all be construed as pleasure. Leo freezes beneath my hands.
His concerned eyes find mine. “Tell me how you’re feeling.” It’s a voice full of worry.
“G-good.” I try to distract him by lifting my hips and kissing him, ignoring the pain the first action causes.
He pushes me back, forehead wrinkling. “You’re lying to me.”
“Don’t stop. Please,” I choke out unconvincingly. “I’m fine.”
“You’re in pain, Mina.” He draws out, and the panic sets in. He’s disappointed in me.
“Keep going. Please.” I tighten my legs around him even though it hurts. “What are you doing? Leo—”
“Mina.” I flinch, prepared for him to confirm every one of the thoughts I had. “There’s no universe where we’re going to have sex while you’re hurting.”
I can hold on long enough for him to finish. It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. It won’t kill me. I’d rather suffer for a bit longer, as long as he’s not upset that we’ve had to stop because my body can’t operate the way it should.
“I’ll be fi—” My words end in a cry when he pulls all the way out, and the sharp ache spears through my uterus. My entire body trembles at the intensity, and the tears follow as I fist the blankets.
God, fuck. Fuck. Why does this always happen?
My shoulders and legs curl. I’m careful not to use the muscles in my lower abdomen, but it’s too late. A sob racks my frame.
“Hey, hey. I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.” Leo cups my cheek, moving his body away from me—and that breaks my heart. I can’t do anything right. I don’t want to know how pathetic I look. “I’m right here. What can I do? What do you need?”
He wipes away my tears with his thumb, but they fall faster, trickling down the side of my face and into my hair. It hurts to breathe, let alone cry. Any movement makes the pain worse.
Leo sits up like he plans on pulling me into his arms. I hold my hand up.
“I’m sorry. P-please don’t move me yet.” I squeeze my eyes shut. I can’t look at him. I don’t want to see whatever’s on his face. “I-I’m sorry. I thought I could handle it long enough for you to finish.”
He nudges my chin to make me look at the concern written in every wrinkle and pinch, and his voice echoes that same worry. It kills me that it’s my fault he’s feeling this way.
“Listen to me when I say this: if you don’t enjoy it, I don’t enjoy it. Don’t ever try to push through or make yourself suffer because you think it’s for my benefit.” He says it like he’s trying to make me promise him.
“I feel guilty. It’s our first time, and you put in so much effort to make tonight special.” I sniffle and wince when the next breath I take is too deep.
His expression softens as he brushes away the strands sticking to my face. “Look me in the eye and tell me you won’t feel guilty the next time you might have to put a stop to sex.”
I shake my head. I feel exposed and pathetic lying naked on my back, too much of a wimp to move.
“I don’t want to ruin the mood or make you suffer because of me.”
“You owe me nothing—most definitely not your pain.” He presses a kiss to my temple and pries my fingers away from the sheets, bringing my hand up to brush his lips along my knuckles. For some reason that makes me cry harder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it’d be too much.”
“Don’t apologize. I don’t even know what the rules and parameters are.” I whimper at another sharp spasm. “Sometimes it doesn’t hurt at all, s-sometimes it does out of nowhere, and sometimes, the smallest thing sets it off.”
He frowns, grabbing a blanket to cover us. “Are you getting booked for surgery?”
I’d scoff if it didn’t hurt too much. “My insurance is calling it elective.”
That was after everyone told me the pain I’m feeling is normal and in my head. That it’s just IBS.
Having a heavy flow two weeks out of my cycle is not normal. It is not something I’ll just grow out of. Having an ex who broke up with me because I kept on having to cut sex short isn’t a right of fucking passage.
“It’s okay. I’m managing alright.” I’m not dying. I’m not getting worse. I haven’t exactly been inconveniencing anyone with it since I’ve been single for so many years.
“Just because you can still function while in pain, doesn’t mean you should.”
I shrug, swiping away the tears. That seems to be the story of my life.
“I’ll be okay,” I whisper.
Leo’s look of disapproval doesn’t sit right with me. “If I get you your pain meds, will you take them?”
I nod. I just want to roll over, sleep, and pretend this never happened.
He gets up, careful not to move the bed or me. He’s still frowning, and I can’t tell if it’s because he’s pissed off, disappointed, or just deep in thought. My chest twists when he turns away from me to tug on his briefs. Then he pauses while grabbing the door handle.
“Stop killing yourself for other people, Mina.”
With that, he shuts the door behind him, and I shuffle onto my side, grateful that the pain is what I wanted: a distraction.