Page 108 of My Unfinished Heart

Tristan’s ass is bright pink where I slapped it, and his neck is bruised from the way I’ve sucked the sweet skin there repeatedly into my mouth. He bites off whatever else he was about to say, gasping as I slide my rigid dick into his hole for our third round tonight. We had our romantic homecoming, which was all very kissy and straightforward, but now we’re making up for lost time. Or at least, I am, and he’s allowing it, teaching me his body while I show him the side of me we never had time for.

He told me at the table I wasn’t prepared for how much he wanted me. Now I need him to understand the way I want.

My relationship with sex is as unbalanced as the rest of my relationships are. Yes, I would say I prefer men to women in bed by about a ten percent margin, and no, I wouldn’t call myself kinky. Not exactly. But I do, sort of, like to torture myself and take my partner along for the ride. Suffering is better when you’re not the only miserable one.

The Jesus fucking Christ was because that was the fourth time I stopped him from coming. It was also the fourth time I stopped myself.

We’re both sweaty as fuck. Panting and desperate in the most agonizing way. Death by pleasure. I guarantee it’s possible. Not that death is the goal here.

I thrust fast, driving into him while he braces his palms on the headboard.

“Oh…God…you could do porn…”

“I take that as a compliment.”

“It wasn’t meant to be.” His body sags, but his hands and knees manage to hold him up. I grab him by the shoulder to give him some extra support while I slam into his ass until both his cheeks are blazing red.

“Hold me,” he says pitifully.

It’s a trick. If I grab him and pull him to my chest, I won’t be able to keep my hand off his dick. I’ll also practically be milking his prostate.

And yet, it’s not like I can say no to him. I want to hit one more edge, but I’ll grant he might have had enough for one night. Using the hand on his shoulder, I pull. He shoves off the headboard, and I grab him by the pec with my other hand. I bring his back to my chest. It forces me to move slower, but he’s chasing his orgasm with ratcheting intensity, clenching on my cock and shoving my hand down to wrap around his.

I groan as what he’s doing to me yanks me right up to another edge.

Then he ends me with a kiss as his dick throbs in my hand. He moans into my mouth until he breaks off with a whimper and a gasp. Biting down on his shoulder, my orgasm roars through me, searing nerve endings and causing my cock to release an utterly unholy amount of cum into the condom lodged in Tristan’s tight little ass. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I groan as it goes on and on, and he doesn’t stop milking it.

“Fuck…” I might be whining now. This is payback, and it borders on painful.

“You’re done,” he says in a low but playful voice.

“So fucking done,” I agree.

“We’re gonna talk about this,” he says. “At some point. When I can make words again.”

I sit back, pulling myself out of him and getting rid of the condom before I drag him back onto my lap. I wrap my arms around his waist and rest my mouth on his cheek. “Kiss me.”

He does, turning his head just enough to give me a lingering but not deep kiss. We’re both out of breath, and I’m still half numb from how hard I just came.

When the kiss ends, he rests his head against mine for a few more deep breaths. “Can you handle it?” I ask.

“I can handle it,” he assures me.

“It won’t get any easier.”

“Nothing about this was ever going to be easy, dearest.”

NINETEEN

Burning Love

I have some trouble processing the image of Tristan sleeping in my bed. Four years’ worth of fantasies and wishes coalesce into a single image: his head against my pillow.

I’d love to say I’m a total gentleman and let him sleep while I whip up an omelet, but instead I’m nudging him saying, “Tristan… hey. Tristan,” until he opens his eyes.

I’m immediately ready for round four at the sight of his hooded gaze, messy hair, and the leg he’s still got draped over my hips.

His frowning pout turns into the biggest smile when he sees me. My heart warms, and then it melts at the sight. I lean in to kiss him, my lips barely brushing his before he pulls back and scrambles away from me, out of bed. “What’s wrong?” I ask.