Chapter 17 #3
“I want you to fuck me without a condom,” she confirms, and in any other setting, her unearned confidence would probably be laughable.
But here, with him, it’s unshakable. With Crew, Grace can finally say exactly what she wants, when she wants, without the worry of being told her desires don’t matter. With Crew, she can be brave.
Something that sounds very much like fuck slips from his lips, and then he’s on top of her, settling himself between her legs and kissing her, hard and rough and finally starting to match the impatience she’s been feeling since they were surrounded by that field of mud.
Crew grabs both of her legs beneath her knees and pulls them up until they’re slung around his hips, and that’s when she feels it—the blunt, smooth head of him right there, right at the place where she will take him in.
“You’ll tell me if it hurts,” Crew says roughly, his lips tracing her jaw.
And though Grace nods, Crew says, “Promise me you’ll tell me. ”
“I promise,” she says, wrapping her arms around his neck.
Satisfied, he drops a quick kiss to her lips, and then he’s breathing long and hard through his nose as he reaches down and positions himself.
He keeps himself gripped securely as he pushes in, the tip of his cock breaching her entrance.
In the space of a heartbeat, Grace’s senses are overloaded.
Her eyes widen slightly at the feeling, and it does hurt, but not enough for her to want him to stop, especially not when she looks up to find him staring down at her, his eyes scanning every inch of her face.
He gains a couple more inches and his mouth, which had been pressed into a firm line, parts, a heavy exhale falling from his lips.
Grace grinds her teeth together as he pushes in farther, and if she were any less wet, if he were even half an inch larger, it’d probably be too much.
But he’d taken the time to make sure she was soaked, drenched in arousal for him, not only to bring her more of that blinding pleasure, but to ease this passage.
It’s working—between the wetness of her pussy, that look of awe in his eyes, and the feeling of his cock burying itself within her, the discomfort begins to quickly subside.
It takes a sharp left turn into something much more enticing, hovering in that sweet spot between pain and pleasure.
And then Crew captures her mouth with his, and pain becomes an afterthought entirely.
Grace moans into his mouth as he reaches the hilt, and together, they breathe the same air, lips pressed together but neither of them moving.
Crew picks up his head slightly to ask, “Okay?”
Grace reaches up, pulls him back down, and says, “Better.” And then she kisses him again. She tightens her legs around him, unintentionally causing him to grind into her, and Crew grunts, his hand flying down to her thigh to hold her there as he starts to move.
Grace’s vision starts to blur—the room is fading out of view, leaving everything in a haze except for Crew. He’s in full color, high definition. She wants to burn this image into her brain—the way his mouth falls open when he pulls nearly all the way out only to plunge back in with more force.
“Crew,” she moans when she sees his eyes roll back, just as turned on by his pleasure as she is by her own. Maybe more.
“Fuck, Grace,” Crew grunts, and it’s like the words are punched from him, like saying them finally gave him the ability to breathe again. He continues to roll his hips into hers, never fully leaving her but stretching her out with each thrust.
He rises then, sitting back on his haunches and gripping her hips, pulling her body into his.
His breath stutters as he pulls one of her ankles up onto his shoulder, holding it there as he pumps in and out.
Grace’s head lolls back, and she can feel it, that telltale spark of something hot and all-encompassing creeping at the base of her spine.
With each pump of his cock, it gets bigger, more insistent.
She whines at the feeling of it, lost to the sensation of it all, and for maybe the first time in her life, she is fully in her body.
Fully present, fully rooted to the earth, anchored by the weight of the man she loves.
The realization of that hits her like a derailed train, unexpected and catastrophic.
She is overwhelmed instantly by the knowledge, by the fact that she’s known long before this moment.
She blinks up to find Crew staring at her again, those pink, plush lips parted in a haze of pleasure as he moves inside of her, expertly, exquisitely splitting her open.
“Say it again,” he demands, his breaths growing shallower. Grace reaches up to touch his stomach, his chest, runs her fingers over his nipples. Crew groans and picks up his pace, fucking her steadily into the mattress now. “Say it, Grace. Say my name like you’re mine.”
Grace manages to get what she wants—pulling at him in any way she can until he’s inches away again, his mouth hovering over hers.
“Crew,” she says, and as it leaves her mouth, he gives her a particularly hard thrust, causing her to elongate the word with a moan.
“Crew,” she repeats, and then again, “Crew, I—”
She feels it before she realizes what’s happening; his thumb flicks at her clit and white flashes spark in her vision, hurtling her to the precipice of another orgasm.
Crew is panting, almost wheezing as he fucks her.
He blinks, coming back to himself for a brief second, realizing he’d cut her off. “What, baby? Tell me.”
She has one foot out the door when she tells him—one foot on an entirely different plane of existence.
One where only euphoria exists, one where her body feels like an endless ocean and stardust and molten lava all at once.
But she stays just long enough to say, “I am yours.” And then she’s free-falling, her vision going completely white.
She can’t think, or scream, or cry—she can only feel.
She feels him squeezing her tighter as she falls, she feels him plunging even deeper into her, prolonging her ecstasy, and she feels his breath on her face.
The way it comes out in disbelieving huffs.
She clenches around him even harder at the sensation, and that’s what does him in.
Grace comes back to her body just in time to hear him let loose a long, broken groan as he pushes his face into her neck and begins to pulse inside of her.
She clenches around him at the feeling, and it steals his breath, makes his hips jerk.
He breathes loudly, raggedly, her name falling from his lips like a prayer as she drains him of every last drop.
They both come back to earth slowly, in an unhurried flurry of drugging kisses and blissful sighs. He pulls out of her eventually, grunting as he goes. Grace can feel their combined fluids dripping out of her, a warm reminder of the love they just made.
Because there’s no other way to describe what happened—fucking would be too crude, too simple, too ordinary.
Crew just made love to her.
And Grace knows now, without a shadow of a doubt—nothing will ever be the same.