Ian pulls down my shorts and the cotton underwear I have on beneath. “Have I told you that you’re beautiful yet?” he asks, slipping one finger into me. I gasp, delighted, happy to have him back in me so soon.
I missed him. I didn’t realize how much until now.
“Katie…” His fingers thrust into me, making me wetter, readier for the rest of him. Each fingertip curls and grazes my G-spot, but I’m not allowed to taste ecstasy yet. That’s okay. I can wait for him.
He wants the same thing I do. Namely, he wants to make love.
I thought we had made love before. Those slow, sensual times in his bed. Now I’m not so sure. I think this may be it, because this time we’re coming together because of a burning need to express our most hidden emotions for each other.
Slowly, his sleeves come down his arms, and I feel his biceps, his shoulder blades appearing beneath my touch. The red shirt joins Ian’s jacket on the floor. He parts my legs around his waist and kisses me so deeply that I gradually forget the rest of the world exists.
Isn’t that what lovemaking is about? Becoming so involved in one another that nothing else matters anymore? Believe it or not, I stop caring about everything but the beating of his heart and the breath I feel on my throat and in my mouth. I don’t even care about him entering me, my folds parting more and more to take him into me. Gradually. Gently.
Magnificently.
Ian stays still within me, kissing my lips again and again, my nails tracing the outline of his muscles along his shoulder and arms. “How does it feel?” he asks, shifting slightly. “I can tell you how it feels on this end. Amazing.”
Not very descriptive, Ian, but as I said, I don’t care about that. “It feels amazing on this end too.” I tell him how his cock is so embedded within me that it feels like we’re truly one body. Conjoined, unable to part. You hear those stories about a man who fits so perfectly within you that it’s like you’re fated to be together. We both said we don’t believe in soul mates. Maybe not, but I believe in moments like these.
“I think I love you, Katie.”
Those are the last words Ian says before wrapping his arms beneath me, lifting my hips up and taking me with a lurch of his body.
I think I love you.
I love you.
Rhythmic movements blissfully roll through me, but all I can think is that the man doing this – the man pushing my body to its limits and reaching for my heart – loves me.
Ian Mathers. The man I thought I disliked so much for so long. Over what? His arrogance? A grudge from years ago? A grudge so stupid and immature now? Shit, nothing like that is ever going to happen again with us. I feel like a fool for not going to him sooner.
Perhaps it was best we waited this long. Perhaps it’s a good thing I had my independent experiences, shaping me into the woman I am now in this moment. I’m still growing. I’m still changing. I’m still fighting the urge to meet my boundaries head-on and see how far I can push them toward the cliff of ultimate enlightenment.
Damn, this is pretty close.
“I love you too, Ian.” My voice is lost to the creak of my bed and the gasps in my throat. I’m opening up more, taking him deep within me and begging him to love me, love me some more. I want to feel every bit of his need for me. I want to capture his essence and hold onto it for the rest of my life. Even if we break up later… even if this really can’t be because of who we fundamentally are… that’s fine. That’s more than fine. I’ll always have this moment to comfort me on the nights I miss him the most.
My affirmation inspires Ian to thrust harder, faster, his cock tearing me apart in the most intoxicating way. If I thought it physically possible, I would want him to keep doing this, forever. I want this, forever.
I want him forever.
His last kiss of the moment sends me over the edge. Between that, my legs spread in the air to take him into me, and his grunt of unfathomed love surrounding me, I break.
“Ian!” I claw his skin, my nails leaving their marks, in case some other woman has the immense privilege of seeing him without his shirt on someday. I want that woman to know that once upon a time, Ian Mathers made love to me. “I want you.”
He know what that means.
Ian’s grunts turn into groans of yearning. My inner walls clench down on him, urging him to come as I sit on the precipice of orgasm.
Just as I think there’s no hope of us coming together, he gasps into me, releasing his first shot of seed as immense pleasure hits my body and brain.
He buries himself so deep within me that I barely feel the rest of his orgasm. In there, anyway. I feel it everywhere else as I writhe against him, my brain flooding with every great endorphin it could possibly hold on to.
Every endorphin that says I want nothing else but this for the rest of my life.
We slow our movements until finally… finally I relax into my pillow, this man on top of me, in me, kissing me.
I don’t want to let him go.
Except we can’t stay like this forever. Eventually, Ian has to pull out of me and roll over enough to keep me in his arms. My head rests against his chest. My thigh lays on his leg, my still spread limbs letting his seed make its way down my skin.
It’s a wonderful combination of feeling marked and in love.
Ian isn’t my Dom right now. He’s… I don’t know what he is. My boyfriend. My lover.
“Have I told you that I’m sorry yet?” He kisses my forehead with the tenderness I crave.
I sigh against his skin. “I’d rather hear that other thing again.”
“What? That I think I love you?”
“Yeah. That one.”
He pushes against me, lips dancing on every part of who I am – physically, emotionally. “I want to fall in love with you, Katie, and I want you to fall in love with me.”
“But it’s so much more fun to fight you.”
“Only in games.”
I wrap my arms around him again, my T-shirt the only clothing still on either of our bodies. Maybe I should fix that.
“What happens now?”
His kiss is unexpected in this moment, but I don’t push him away. How can I, when this is the most natural feeling in the world?
“Let’s play it by ear.”
“What about our families?”
“Fuck our families. It’s none of their business.”
I chastise him for saying that, but I can’t help but agree. It’s absolutely none of their business. Not until we decide to take a more serious step beyond exclusivity. I don’t know when that will happen, if ever. Right now I only care about feeling his warmth around me, within me, and consuming every part of my consciousness.
“I love you,” I whisper, testing how he feels now that we’re no longer having sex.
To my surprise, he knocks me over onto the other side of my bed and looms over me. Am I scared? Enamored? I don’t know what this feeling is, only that I’m becoming addicted to it.
“Don’t say those words if you don’t mean them.”
“You said them first.”
“I didn’t say them without meaning them.”
“Neither am I.” I wrap my legs around his waist and feel his strong body pressed upon mine. Soon we’re back in that familiar embrace. “I love you. I just don’t know what to do.”
“For today, for this week, we’re not going to concern ourselves with it. We won’t address the future until we absolutely have to.”
As nice as that sentiment sounds, I can’t help but wonder if that future will come sooner rather than later. I also wonder if I will really care. Will I keep pushing back my identity in favor of a new one? Will I be happy?
Where will we be a year from now? Ten years from now?
Let me tell you. It doesn’t fucking matter. I’m taking things one day at a time.