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SEVERIO
Being balls-deep inside Cristina is a more comfortable position for me than the one I find myself in after sex. Probably because I recognize this moment for what it is. A form of aftercare when a woman needs me to hold her, which is something I avoid at all costs by not placing myself in a position where something like this would be necessary. Or even expected.
My brother was right. Typically, I’m not a territorial animal or the kind of man who gets jealous or possessive over a woman. That’s only because those types of feelings happen when a man cares. I never have.
Unless it has to do with this girl. If it’s about her, I seem to care.
Maybe it’s temporary, something distance will cure. Distancing worked before, since this isn’t the first time I’ve met her. This line of thinking just goes to show how uncomfortable I am while spooning. I’ve tucked her so close to me that we couldn’t get any closer unless I were inside her again.
Which I won’t be, because I don’t want to tear her inner walls.
She’s sucking on my thumb while my cum leaks from between her legs. I grab a spare pillow, shake it out to separate it from the pillowcase, and use the case to wipe her.
I could’ve left to get a towel.
It’s distancing.
But no. I can’t bring myself to refuse whatever it is she needs from me. Or maybe I need it. Maybe I’m the one who needs to feel her against me and know she’s finally mine.
Minutes pass, and Cristina takes my thumb out of her mouth.
“Hey, Severio?”
Again, I kiss her shoulder. “Yes?”
She turns to face me, and I’m struck by how pretty she is. Big chestnut eyes framed in dark long eyelashes. Rosy cheeks. Plush mouth always shining with some sort of lip gloss. Today, I tasted cotton candy.
When she doesn’t say anything, I prompt her. “Did you want to ask me something?”
“Was I any good?”
I frown. “How do you mean?”
“At sex. Is that how you like it?” She clears her throat. “How you enjoy it? With the spanking and all, not letting me move?”
Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh.
She’s blushing prettily and probably has lain with me this entire time summoning the courage to ask me if I liked having sex with her. Silly question. But a serious one for her, given the fact she’s inexperienced and probably didn’t expect a spanking. There was no way I wasn’t going to. Her ass cheeks begged for it.
“I enjoyed it, yes. Did you?”
She pulls the sheet up and over half of her face, leaving only her eyes.
I chuckle. “Don’t be embarrassed.”
“I know, but I am. It’s hard to look you in the eyes.”
It’s no easier for me, but for different reasons. I think I made love to a woman for the first time instead of fucked her, but I don’t say that. If I say it, it’s real, and I can’t take it back.
She reaches for the pendant on my necklace. She inspects the seashell. She won’t remember it. She was too small. Even I wonder why I kept it.
Cristina looks up at me, then at the seashell, and my heart thuds in my chest at the thought of being discovered. I’ve kept this memory private for so long, I feel like nobody should have it. Not even the girl who shared it with me. I’m so fucking uncomfortable that I must force myself not to get up and walk out.
I’m assessing her as I would a threat.
It’s such an awkward feeling. She’s a nice girl, and her goal in life is to cook food that makes other people happy. She’s completely and utterly harmless.
Yet, she holds power over me, and I don’t want her to find that out.
