REMMEN #2
I laid my palm flat on her belly just to feel her breathe under it, and made myself hold still instead of falling on her. I could have looked at her the rest of the day. She had other plans.
“Take those bloody clothes off,” Anne commanded with a flick of her wrist.
I would obey any command she gave.
I stood up off the bed where she could see the whole of me and took my time about it. My shirt was already half gone. I dragged it up over my horns and let it drop.
Her eyes went down my chest and lower and stayed there while I unfastened my trousers and shoved them down, and my cock sprang free, thick and heavy and already wet at the tip. I jerked under nothing but the weight of her looking. I made no move to cover any of it.
I wrapped my fist around the base of my cock and stroked once, slow, root to tip, dragging the slick from the head down the shaft so it caught the light, because she was watching me do it and her mouth had fallen open.
“Oh,” was all she got out. Then, gathering herself, “Well. Don’t stop on my account.”
I fisted my cock again while she watched from my bed, propped on her elbows, her thighs pressing and shifting, unable to hold still. The flush went all the way down her.
She dragged her eyes down me and back up, greedy, snagging on my cock every time, and licked her lips, hungry for it. My cock jerked in my fist and a fresh bead of slick slid down over my knuckles. I could have come just from the look on her face.
“Show me how you touch yourself.” The words were so husky I almost didn’t recognize my own voice.
She didn’t move right away. Her hand had stopped high on her thigh. The flush on her throat had changed, climbed higher and stayed. She looked at me, and for a woman who always had a word ready she didn’t reach for one, and she didn’t look away either.
I didn’t rush her. I kept my fist moving slow on my cock and let her see plain how much I wanted this, and I stayed where I was, and I waited.
Then she let her knees fall open, slow, and reached down. She wet two fingers in her mouth first, watching me watch her, then dragged them through herself and circled her clit. Her hips tilted up into her own hand.
She was soaked. I could see it shine on her fingers, see her swollen and open and empty, and when she pushed one finger inside herself the sound she made was small and helpless and went straight down my spine into my cock.
She fucked her own hand and watched me fist myself, and I thought I might lose my mind before I got inside her.
I couldn’t stand there and watch a second longer.
I climbed onto the bed and she rolled to her side and made room, and I fit myself in behind her, her back against my chest, her head tucked under my jaw, both of us on our sides in the gold light.
I ran my hand down over her breast, caught one tight nipple and rolled it until she gasped, then lower, over her belly, and covered her own hand between her legs with mine. I didn’t take over. I followed her.
I let her show me the rhythm she’d found, then slid one thick finger down alongside hers, through all that slick, and pressed where she was pressing.
She was drenched, and my finger dwarfed hers.
Together we worked her clit until I felt her swell and clench and go slicker still, and she turned her face into my arm and moaned.
“There,” I told her, low, my mouth against her ear. “Show me. Just like that.”
When she was shaking, when her hips had gone frantic against our hands, I hooked her top leg up over mine, opening her, and dragged the head of my cock through her slick from behind. She was so wet I slid easy against her, notching at her entrance, and she stopped moving.
I went slow. She was small and I was not, and I never forgot it, not even out of my mind with wanting her. I pushed the first thick inch into her and stopped, and felt her stretch to take me, felt her clench and flutter around the head of me, and the sound she made was pure want.
I gave her another inch. Another. She was so tight and so hot around me that I had to grit my teeth to keep from driving home.
“Easy,” I said, though I was the one who needed telling.
“Don’t you dare go easy,” she said, breathless, and shoved herself back onto me until I was seated deep, and we both groaned at it.
Then I fucked her, slow and deep, working a little further into her with every stroke until my hips met her and she’d taken all of me. One arm banded under her breasts, holding her back against my chest; my other hand stayed between her legs, rubbing her clit in time with every thrust.
She was loud now, and wet enough that I could hear it, the slick drag of my cock in and out of her, and every push punched a broken little cry out of her. She reached back over her shoulder and got a hand around one of my horns and held on and begged me for more.
I gave it to her. I let go of slow. The light lay warm across us both. I had her in my bed in the middle of the day, daylight across her skin, and I had never in my life wanted to be anywhere else.
She came first, hard, clenching down around my cock so tight I nearly went over with her, her whole body pulling at me, my name breaking apart in her mouth. I fucked her through it, her clit still under my fingers, until she was wrung out and twitching and sobbing.
Then I let myself go. I drove deep and held there and spilled into her in long, shaking pulses, filling her, my face buried in her hair and a sound tearing out of me I’d never made before her.
The bond pulled taut and rang through me, the same certainty that had hit me on the dock, gentled now that she knew it too.
We lay there and came back down. Her heart slowed against my arm. I stayed inside her until I softened and slipped free. Her faint protest at losing me made me absurdly proud.
Sweat cooled on both of us. The light crept a hand’s width across the floor. Out beyond the curtains, muffled and far off, the town got on with the work of cleaning up after the morning, and not one bit of it could reach us in here.
I dragged the quilt up over her hip. She stroked her fingers along my forearm, idle, tracing the old scars there without asking me about a single one, and I was grateful for that too.
After a while I shifted her onto her back so I could see her face, and she let me, sleepy and loose and unbothered by the size of the male taking up most of her view. I looked at her for a long time. She caught me at it and didn’t tell me to stop, only dragged my arm in tighter and closed her eyes.
“I should go,” Anne said in a sleepy voice some time later, her finger stroking over one of my horns.
I made a rumbling sound in the back of my throat. “Stay.” It was almost begging. “Just a little longer.”
She settled down beside me. “Just a little longer,” she agreed.
But I had no idea how much more time we could steal before it ruined us both.