Virtuous(101)

“I love how you tell me what you want. Will you always do that?”

I swallow hard, trying to rid myself of the guilt that struggles to the surface, reminding me there’s a lot I haven’t told her. “Yes, I promise. I’ll always tell you.” My hands are trembling as I roll on the condom. I want this to be so perfect for her—for both of us. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this kind of nervous anticipation about sex. But nothing has ever mattered as much as this does, as she does.

I’m out for perfection tonight. Nothing less will do. I come down on top of her, resting my hands on either side of her gorgeous face.

“How you doing?” I ask.

“Never better.”

“You’re really sure about this, Nat? We don’t have to—”

She squeezes my lips with her fingers and raises her hips, letting me know exactly what she wants from me. I feel like I should’ve taken more time preparing her, but I can’t wait any longer.

I take myself in hand and slide through the dampness between her legs. It’s all I can do not to come when my cock connects with her hot wetness for the first time. I bite my bottom lip and pray for mercy as I begin to push into her, going slowly and watching her intently for any signs of distress.

But all I see in her is the pleasure. Her eyes widen and her lips part, and I push in deeper, wanting all of her. She’s so tight and hot and wet. I’m in heaven.

“Talk to me, sweetheart. Tell me how it feels.”

“So good,” she says breathlessly. “Don’t stop.”

“I’m never going to stop loving you. Never.” I hold back for as long as I can, giving her time to adjust and taking it as easy as I possibly can without losing my mind. I rock into her, slowly, insistently, still watching her for signs of flashbacks or pain of any kind.

Her hands slide down my back to cup my ass, and I’m lost. Absolutely gone. I break out in a cold sweat and pick up the pace, wanting to feel that tight * clamp down around my cock more than I want my next breath. Propping myself up on one arm, I reach between us and press my fingers to her clit, and I’m rewarded with a tight contraction that nearly finishes me off.

“Natalie… Christ, this feels so f*cking good. I love you so much. Come for me, sweetheart.” I continue to caress her clit until I feel her lift off, the tight squeeze of her internal muscles more than I can take after living on the razor’s edge of desire for so many days.

She cries out as she comes, her fingers digging into my ass and pulling me deeper into her and taking me with her in an orgasm that seems to come from my bone marrow.

It feels like it lasts forever, the pleasure so intense and so profound, unlike anything else has ever been. I come out of it gasping for air, throbbing with aftershocks and surrounded by her sweet softness. In that moment, I begin to genuinely believe I can live without the other half of my sexuality. If this is all I ever get to have, it’s more than enough. Or so I tell myself…

I’m almost afraid to raise my head, to look at her face, for fear of what I might see. Is she remembering the most painful moments of her life? Does she have regrets? Does she already wish we hadn’t done this? Does she want to go back to when there were rules she was determined to live by? If I see any sign of that, I think I’ll die inside. But I need to know.

Slowly, I lift my head off her chest to find her eyes closed and her lips curled into a small smile. The relief that hammers through me is so significant that I’m left light-headed. She’s happy. She’s satisfied. She’s smiling.

I kiss that sweet smile, and her eyes open to gaze up at me. “Wow,” she whispers.

“My sentiments exactly. How do you feel?”

“I feel very, very good. You?”

I kiss her neck and throat. “Same. Never better. Best night of my life, hands down. And in case you were wondering, this, right here, is the best part of the best night ever.” I kiss her again. “Hands down.”

Her smile warms and sustains me. It tells me everything will be all right. She’s not going to regret this in the morning. Hell, it’s already almost morning, and no signs of regret.

Her index finger traces the furrow between my brows. “What’re you worried about?”

“That you’ll regret this.”

“Never. It was perfect. In fact, I can’t wait to do it again.”

“Just give me ten minutes to recover, and we’ll do it again. We’ll do it as many times as you want.”