F*ck Marriage(40)

I bend at the waist and study my thigh. “No way,” I say. “You have to get really close to see it.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about, Billie.”

I straighten up and he laughs at my blush. Then I do something so completely unlike me. I lift my T-shirt over my head until I’m standing in front of Satcher in only my panties.

“Why just look?” I say.



I’m on my stomach, the soft down comforter beneath me; my fingers grip the material, making fists. I’m nervous but without the awkwardness. I’ve known Satcher too long to truly be out of sorts. He’s behind me. I can feel his heat on my skin. I turn my head to watch him, my hair partly obscuring my vision. He rubs warm palms down my back, putting pressure in all the right places so that I arch beneath his hands like a cat. When I feel like things can’t get any more intense, he grips my buttocks between his hands, kneading. I’m wet at his touch, and I turn my face away so he can’t see the desperate begging in my eyes. Gently, he takes hold of my ankle and pushes my leg up so that my knee is bent toward my chest. Then he releases himself from his pants with one hand, while a finger from the other slides inside of me. I blink hard, breathing through my nose, my chest heaving as I bite the insides of my cheeks. I’m squirming, unable to keep still as a finger works into me. He groans when he feels me, like this is the first time he’s touching a woman this way. As he works one finger then two inside of me, he bends down to kiss my shoulder ... my neck. I’m panting; the sound makes me ashamed and I try to quiet it, but when I do, Satcher twists his fingers in such a way that I start up again.

He smacks me hard on the fattest part of my ass and my eyes fly open in question.

“Lift your hips,” he orders.

I slide my leg straight to match the other, and with my face still pressed against the bed, I lift my hips slightly. I can feel him looking at me as he caresses my backside, running the pad of his thumb across the wetness between my legs until I want to scream, Hurry up! Hurry up!

I feel him position himself against me, but he doesn’t push in; it’s a hard pressure that opens me and promises to deliver.

I groan, wiggling my hips. “Satcher... ”

As soon as I say his name, he pushes into me; a drop and a slide so sweet and painful the rest of my words are cut from my lips and replaced by a gasp.

He drags in and out, lazy movements that rub along my throbbing muscles, making me shiver in anticipation of the next. And while he pushes and pulls—in and out, in and out—he massages my back, my shoulders ... hard when he pushes in and soft when he pulls out. I’m lost in the rhythm, the muscles in my body in ecstasy.

When I twist my head back to see him, his eyes are open and glassy, his tongue gripped between his teeth. He’s making a low humming in his throat. When he catches me looking, he smiles a sleepy, closed-mouth smile.

“Turn over,” he instructs me. “I want to see you when you come.”

I roll my body and he’s between my legs, lowering himself onto me. I close my eyes at the sheer pleasure of his weight. Running my hands along his arms and back, I wrap myself around him. In the five seconds it’s taken to turn over I am desperate to feel him inside of me again. He watches my face when he sinks down and fills me once more.

“You’re not wearing a condom,” I say. It’s not a rebuke, more of an observation. Satcher has made jokes about never being caught without a condom.

“Do you want me to put one on?” His breath catches my hair and glides along my ear.

I hesitate. “No,” I say. “Do you want to put one on?”

“Not even a little bit,” he breathes. “I haven’t done it like this ... in a long time.” I’m conscious of his hands, his fingers, pressing into the softness of my lower back as he lifts my hips to meet his thrusts.

He starts to move again and my body responds instantly, opening up for him with a trust that scares me. This is Satcher: I don’t have to be scared of him. I know everything about him—good and bad. He’s been here all along, I think. Right in front of you and you almost missed him.

“I’m going to come hard.” His voice is raspy with pleasure, his eyes closed. “But first I want you to come ... on my dick. Can you do that, Billie?” He’s barely finished his sentence when I do. It was his saying my name in that voice of his that threw me over the edge. My legs clench around his body and I scream into his shoulder, lifting my upper body off the bed to meet him where he holds himself up to watch me.

“Yeah,” I breathe. “That was good.”

He laughs with his face buried in my neck, and I hold onto him as he moves harder.

There is pressure, and a pain so good my eyes roll back in my head when his whole body stiffens, his muscles tensing underneath my hands. I feel him come. I’ve never felt a man come before; but suddenly he gets even harder and I have to adjust my legs, opening them wider to accommodate him. With me spread out beneath him whimpering, he looks at me with a strained expression on his face.

I don’t hold back as I clench around his dick, lifting my hips to take all of him. I can feel his cum leaving his body and pouring into me. It’s one of the most erotic moments of my life.



Later, we do something I have not done in a very long time: we lie together, our bodies curled around each other.