Chapter Eighteen #5
We both cry out as his body anchors to mine, filling me up in ways I never expected. Our fingers tangle together as our bodies greedily demand more and more of each other. The first, slow thrust into my clenching muscles almost sends me over the edge; the second makes me see stars.
“How do you feel?” Everett’s voice rumbles against my ear. He thrusts again, as if to give me another example to consider.
“I feel—” The words are broken off by a wave of pleasure as his hips find a rhythm, a train’s drive wheels as they slowly grind into motion.
“I feel—” I try again, and again am overcome.
Everett’s hand finds my right leg at the shin, pushing into it, tilting my hips upward and changing our position until the smooth bolt of his cock hits something inside, the sensation reverberating within me like a bell, heavy and sonorous through my entire body.
“Ah!” I cry out, the words erupting from me in a full-throated yell, “I feel normal!”
“Normal?!” Everett’s face spreads into that devious grin, the one that rarely breaks through his kindly-professor mode, the one that makes me squirm with heat.
“You’re anything but, Maisie.” He rolls onto his back, bringing me on top of him, then entering me again.
“You’re a goddamn miracle.” His mouth is open, panting, as he guides my hips up and down on his cock, which has somehow grown harder, more swollen.
I feel like I could split apart with want of him.
“And you feel like heaven in my hands.” His thumbs grind into the soft flesh on either side of my clit as he works me hard, the stimulation fierce and commanding and utterly maddening as a new orgasm builds inside of me.
My muscles contract around the raw, hard length of him, the pleasure a sharp pinch as they grab on to him like they’ll never let him go.
Maybe I won’t. A moan tumbles out of his mouth, his stomach tightening, rigid beneath my bouncing palms, and something about it emboldens me, makes me take the reins from my professor.
I drive myself down upon him harder, with longer, deeper thrusts, and I grab one of his hands and move it up to my breast, squeezing his long fingers beneath my own until his grip is ferocious, animal, and he groans with need.
“I won’t—be able to last like this—Maisie, please,” he begs.
The loss of his slipping control is delicious to witness.
When it’s clear I won’t relent, his other hand moves to the apex of my cunt with renewed determination, and the pressure there coupled with the driving force between our bodies booms through me like a vicious thunderclap.
I come, hard, whimpering wildly as my body seizes around his, claiming him all for my own.
The contractions of my rolling orgasm are too much for Everett to withstand, and with a final searing squeeze of my breast, he jolts inside of me, giving my body everything he has.
Each sticky surge of his pulsing cock tingles within me as our bodies’ chemicals riot together.
“Maisie.” His voice is tender, his eyes concerned. “You’re crying, sweetheart.”
I huff, startled, then bring my hands up to my face and find tracks of warm, salty tears. I wipe them away quickly, my face burning in mortification. “I’m sorry—I don’t know why. I don’t feel sad.” But even as I say the words, my throat thickens, and more tears replace the ones I just wiped away.
Everett gently pulls my arm until I lie down in the crook of his body, my cheek resting on his chest. His heart is a reassuring thump-thump in my ear, and that scares me, too, how much I’ve come to rely on his presence for comfort.
“Maybe because it’s the end of an era you knew,” Everett says into my hair. “And the beginning of one you don’t.”
“Maybe,” I breathe in agreement, knowing full well that’s exactly what it is.
Who is this Maisie, lying in a beautiful man’s arms, happy to nestle here for the rest of her life instead of furiously scrabbling for safety?
I don’t know her. I don’t understand her.
And I don’t know or understand how I became her.
But here I am, changed, and I wouldn’t go back to how I was before even if I could.
It’s funny—when I asked for lessons, I thought I’d learn how to give a blow job, collecting it like a life skill that could serve me in the right situation, like small talk or knitting.
I’d finally solve the mystery of whether sex is as great as American society has made it out to be while beating my personal deadline to have it, albeit through a loophole where I exchanged survival knowledge for sex lessons.
Instead, I learned how good the right person can make you feel.
But I never imagined that it’d feel like this, where my mind and body and heart, three parts of my sum that have never worked peacefully together, would join over the same driving want.
Pushing me forward. Leading me into unknown territory.
And more than anything, I’ve learned I never want to let him go.