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He repositions himself where I'm flat on my back and he's hovering over me.
"I didn't mean to beg. If you don't want--"
"Oh, I want," he interrupts. "I just need to make sure it's what you want."
"It is," I assure him, rolling my hips in an effort to feel his erection where I need the pressure the most.
"What exactly do you need?" he asks, his hand diving back down to the center of me.
"I want you inside of me," I pant, trying to resist closing my eyes because I know he can see at least part of my face with the moonlight coming through the curtains.
If the overhead lights were on, I couldn't hide the heat on my face that I know is making my cheeks pink.
"This," he says, sounding a little breathless himself as he presses two fingers inside of me.
"More," I moan, before slapping my hand over my mouth.
These rooms aren't soundproof, something I discovered late one night when I couldn't sleep. It didn't take long to understand what the rhythmic thumping was that I could hear coming from the room adjacent to this one.
"Let me hear you," he urges, pulling my hand away from my mouth.
"If you can then everyone else can, too."
Instead of arguing with me, he presses harder into me but then covers my mouth with his, swallowing my moans of desperation before they can float into the room.
I rush to shove down my leggings, and he has the good grace to pull his fingers from me so he can pull my shirt over my head.
"You're so fucking perfect," he praises, the tip of one finger tracing my belly button.
I want to argue with him, to flip on the light and show him all the scars that have been carved into my body, but the moonlight reflecting in his eyes is enough for me to see that there's a very real chance that he's telling the truth. In his eyes, I'm perfect.
I swallow back tears because I know I'll never be able to keep him. What I will do is take everything he has to offer until the world rips us apart.
"Is this okay?" he asks with his hands at the hem of his own shirt.
"I'd be a little disappointed if you didn't get naked also," I whisper, shoving down the front of his sweats and immediately wrapping my hands around his thick cock.
"Goddamn," he curses, his hips jolting further so he can stab the length of himself all the way through my palms, but then he pulls himself completely free. "I need a minute."
My hands fall to the mattress, but the sight of his muscular body makes my mouth water, and it only takes half a minute before I give in to the urge to touch myself.
His eyes turn down, following my hands as I cup my breasts before letting one hand trail even further down.
He urges my legs apart, giving himself unfettered access to watch as I trace my clit with the tip of one finger. It feels good, but I know his touch would feel even better.
"What are you waiting for?" I ask, not even bothering to mask the desperation in my voice.
"I need to get dressed."
"What?" The sting of rejection has me pulling my hands free of my body.
"I don't have any condoms in here. I have to go find some."
"You have to go to the store?" I can hear the edge of insanity in my tone.
"Someone down the hall has some. I'll only be a minute."
"I can't get pregnant," I rush to say.
