1. 1 #2
When Brandon finally settled inside me, I let out a shaky breath and wrapped my arms around his shoulders.
He fit me the way he always had, comfortably and naturally, filling the space my body already knew how to give him.
Except now I knew what it felt like to have every inch filled to bursting and my lips stretched to the point of tearing.
No matter how much I loved Brandon, nothing was taking the memory away from me.
The thought sent a guilty throb through me, and I kissed Brandon harder before it could become anything more.
He began moving, carefully at first, his hips rolling between my thighs while his mouth moved along my neck.
His chest rubbed against my tits, dragging my already raw nipples across his skin, and the sting folded into the pleasure until I couldn't separate one from the other.
I tightened around him and heard his breath catch.
"Fuck, Zoe."
I liked that. I lifted my hips to meet his next thrust, encouraging him, and Brandon responded.
His pace quickened as his hand slid down my side and gripped my hip.
The soreness was still there, but my body was so worked up that it only sharpened everything else.
Each thrust rubbed through the lingering ache, and warmth began gathering low in my belly.
I dug my fingers into Brandon's back and pulled him closer, kissing him with more hunger than I'd intended.
I wanted this to work. I wanted him to fuck the memory of Victor out of me until all I could feel was Brandon again.
But closing my eyes made everything worse.
For one disorienting instant, Brandon's hand on my hip became Victor's larger one gripping me in the shower.
The soreness around Brandon's cock reminded me whose cock had made me sore, and my body answered the memory with a rush of heat so immediate that I hated myself for it.
I opened my eyes and found Brandon above me.
Brandon. My boyfriend. The man I loved.
I pulled him down into another kiss and bucked harder beneath him, chasing the pleasure that was finally building inside me. Whatever had started it didn't matter. I could make it about us. I could take this feeling and give it back to Brandon.
"Come on," I breathed against his mouth.
His hips moved faster, and a moan escaped me before I could swallow it.
That excited him even more. His grip tightened on my hip, his breathing turning ragged as I wrapped my legs around him and met every thrust. There it was.
The tension inside me was beginning to coil tighter, my pussy clenching around him as I chased the release I'd been aching for since he'd walked through the bedroom door.
"Don't stop."
Brandon's rhythm faltered. No. I felt his body tense before he buried his face against my neck with a groan. His hips jerked once more against me, and then he went still. I hadn't even felt his cock twitch against my walls before he was done.
For several seconds I lay beneath him, feeling his breath against my damp skin as the orgasm I'd been reaching for slipped frustratingly out of reach. My pussy was still pulsing around him, wet and aching and desperate for the movement that had already stopped.
Eventually Brandon lifted his head, and the embarrassment on his face made it impossible to be angry.
"Shit. I did it again."
"It's okay."
"No, it's not." He glanced away from me. "I thought this time would be better."
"It was!" I touched his cheek until he looked at me. "It was great."
He searched my face, obviously wanting to believe me, and then his expression shifted. "Did you...?"
I knew exactly what he was asking. I could have told him no. I could have admitted that I had been close and was still so turned on that I wanted to grab his hips and make him start moving again.
Instead, I kissed him.
"Yes."
His face brightened so quickly that guilt twisted through me. "Really?"
"Really."
The second lie was easier. I kissed him again before he could examine it too closely, and Brandon relaxed against me, burying his face in my neck while I stroked the back of his head. I loved holding him like this. That wasn't a lie. Neither was the warmth in my chest when he kissed my shoulder.
Only my orgasm was.
Eventually he pulled out and sat on the edge of the bed, leaving me with a hollow little ache that made me squeeze my thighs together. I watched him peel off the condom and tie it, something I'd seen him do countless times without giving it a second thought.
Now I couldn't stop staring. That thin layer of latex had been between us the entire time. Sensible. Safe. Normal. Not like Victor.
There had been nothing separating his hot flesh from mine, nothing between the thick head of his cock and the walls of my cunt as he'd pushed them apart.
I'd felt every ridge, every pulse, the slick drag of bare skin inside me.
Even afterward, standing beneath the shower with water running over us, I'd understood on some primitive level how intimate and reckless it had been.
My pussy clenched around nothing and I squeezed my eyes shut.