End of Story(58)

Then he winced and I froze. “What’s wrong? Lars?”

“Nothing. Ride me.”

I exhaled and rocked on him gently. When he didn’t show any obvious signs of discomfort or agony, I rocked on him harder. Rising and falling just a little. Squeezing him again with my internal muscles. All the while, he watched me with a mix of tenderness and possession in his gaze. My face and breasts and belly. My thighs and cunt. Strong hands gripped my thighs, giving them a squeeze, testing the flesh with his fingers. Then he raised his upper half a little and smacked me on the ass, making me squeak.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous. Getting to be around you has been the only good thing about this week.” The man winced and smiled. “Harder.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“If you’re hurting me, I’ll tell you,” he said. “Now do as you’re told and ride me harder. You know you want to.”

He was right. I really did. The feel of him so solid inside of me. How he dragged over all my good places as I rose. Then the sweet shock of impaling myself on that thick length. Over and over again. Harder and faster. Nothing could be better than losing myself with him. His jaw shifted and his nostrils flared. The tension low in my belly spread throughout me. Like a light working its way through me. I was all heat and motion, reaching for that thrill, until it got so bright I was blinded. I came with a gasp and he gripped my thigh, pulling me down on him and holding me there. Like there was anywhere else I wanted to be. His cock surged inside of me, pumping out his cum as he groaned. This was it. This was what I needed. The world far away and just him being near.

I think I died a little. It is called the little death in French. It made sense.

Beneath me, he made a wheezing sound. “Susie.”

“Shit.” I carefully climbed off and sat on the mattress at his side. He was in no condition for a well-fucked woman to collapse on top of him. Seriously. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry, Lars. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine now.” He smiled and dealt with the condom. Wrapping it in a Kleenex and depositing it on the bedside table. “You’re on my good side. Lie down. Put your head on my shoulder.”

“Are you sure?”

He just waited.

After-sex cuddles were weird. With some partners, once the deed was done, you just wanted them gone. Wanted to get your space back. But with others, wasting a couple of hours on room service and a hot tub would be divine. Lars was of the latter variety. He smelled good and felt good and I was happy. There’d been no cuddling of late due to his injuries, but cuddling with Lars felt a lot like Christmas. And there were all those feelings again, making my heart feel too big for my ribs. Like with all of this his sweet words and great sex, the organ might break out of its bone cage.

“Thanks for letting me stay with you,” he said in a low voice.

“You’re very welcome. I think all in all this impromptu living-together situation has been a success.”

“Yeah.”

I smiled.

“Though I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he said, staring at the ceiling. “Would you mind putting some of your skin care and makeup away? There’s no room on the bathroom counter for my shaving stuff.”

Huh. “I’ll take a look.”

“Thanks.”

“Anything else been bothering you?”

He made a noise in his throat. “Not really.”

I raised myself up on one elbow. “Not really doesn’t mean no.”

“It sort of does.”

“Come on. You’ve been living here for four days now. What else?”

He smiled. Lars after sex was chill. “I’m very grateful that you let me stay and take such good care of me without getting all up in my face. Even if you did yell at me as soon as you walked through the door today.”

“You were being an idiot.”

“I knew what I was doing.”

“Let’s agree to disagree,” I said. “It’s funny the things you learn about someone when you live with them. I was surprised to find how much of a morning person you weren’t. Considering your chosen profession requires early starts. You kind of bumble around like a big sleepy bear for the first hour or so. Half the time I wonder if you’re going to walk into a wall or something.”

He grunted.

“Though I appreciate your lack of interest in wearing shirts. Because ogling you is a favorite pastime of mine.”

He smiled and smoothed a hand over my head, stroking my hair.

“Though the stubble in the bathroom sink I could do without.”

“We’re giving each other feedback?”

“Sure.”

“Okay,” he said. “I love watching you get dressed. The way you make yourself look all perfect. I’m scared to touch you because I don’t want to rumple you. But then I get sad because you’re wearing clothes and I really like it when you’re naked.”

I smiled. “That’s nice. Now what about the things that annoy you?”

“Is this a trap?” he asked. “’Cause it feels like a trap.”

“I swear it is not a trap. I’m just curious.”

He sighed. “Well, you leave coffee mugs and water glasses everywhere. You never remember to turn off lights and your shoes are always scattered all over the damn house.”