Page 22 of Just Past Two

“No.” He pulled his hand away from her clit and grabbed her hips again. She could have cried, but she also loved it, loved this feeling of helplessness. Dual needs warred within her, the need to come and the need to please him. She couldn’t stop clenching with every movement he made inside her, every thrust.

“So tight. You’re such a good fuck. You’re so hot, so wet, so perfect.” His hips were moving erratically now, and he let go of her hips to lean forward, propping himself up above her, driving into her over and over again. “Anybody would be lucky, getting to come in this sweet cunt.”

That right there almost pushed Abby over the edge. Sam so seldom swore, mostly during sex, never that crude, and somehow that mix of composed Sam talking filthy and fucking her without mercy had Abby shivering at the edge of orgasm, frantic to hold it off. She didn’t even need his hand on her clit, now.

“Please, Sir, may I come?” Her voice had gotten higher, more desperate.

“I don’t know.” He leaned down and sucked one nipple into his mouth, and the contact raced through her like a straight line to her clit. “Do you like this? Tell me. Tell me the truth.”

“Oh,” she moaned, wincing, her breath coming shallow to her lungs. “Yes. I like…being helpless. And I like…you fucking me like this. And I like…shit, I like thinking about…about you watching someone else fuck me.” The words tumbled out, confessions, desire so hot and thick in her blood that she was burning up from the inside out. “Please, Sir, please, may I come?”

Sam locked eyes with her, his expression feral and sharp, animal-like. “When I come, you can come.”

She didn’t know how much longer she could bear it, and she pulled against the ropes, thrashing, anything to distract herself from the deep, primal pull of her own release bearing down on her. Sam was merciless, hitting every tender spot in her pussy with brutal precision. Finally, he drove all the way inside her and held, coming hot and thick inside her, and Abby let herself fall over that impossible cliff into a climax that washed away all reality from her mind. Words dissolved and she was left gasping, crying, riding out this wave. He held steady, his cock still twitching inside her, until she sagged to the bed, everything fading away.

Abby came back to reality with Sam’s weight heavy on top of her, the slickness of their combined wetness between her legs, a wash of discomfort and guilt settling all over her. Sam lifted off her, carefully, avoiding eye contact, and then moving up to untie her wrists with unsteady hands. Finally released, Abby flexed her fingers, touching the rawness where she’d rubbed her wrists red. She was cold. She curled up onto her side, drenched with sweat that was now cooling, and tried to wrangle her thoughts into something normal.

This wasn’t normal, though. Something had shifted.

Sam had always been so gentle, so approachable, so nonthreatening. He hadn’t been the kind of guy to shake her up. They’d rode this pattern for ten years now, but he wasn’t that guy she’d expected. He’d acted like someone totally different. If this side of him was present all along, maybe she didn’t know him at all.

…

Sam probably shouldn’t leave Abby alone on the bed, not after what they’d just done, but he stood in the bathroom way longer than it took to use it, staring at himself in the mirror. Shit, what had he just said? He’d had a sense of how he wanted tonight to go. He’d planned on teasing her, bringing her to the edge of orgasm a few times, tying her up, and making her come. He hadn’t planned on spilling out all this dirty, filthy confessional stuff, ideas he hadn’t even really thought through. And now, there they were, out in the open.

Abby was curled up on the bed, and he put a hand on her back. Her skin felt cold and clammy. “Hey. Why don’t we take a shower together?”

Abby pushed herself up onto one elbow and looked up at him, hesitant. “Sure,” she said at last. “Sure.”

Showering together was this baseline kind of connection that always made Sam feel close to Abby. Even though their shower wasn’t big enough to make this sort of thing comfortable, it wasn’t really about getting clean. He steered her under the water and began to rinse her hair. She tipped her head back and closed her eyes.

He needed to say something. “I hope that was okay.”

Abby picked her head up, raising her eyebrows. “Okay?” She started to laugh. “Yeah, clearly I was enjoying myself.”

“I didn’t want to go too far. I hope I didn’t go too far. I got a little carried away there.” He poured some of her shampoo into his hand and began to lather up the thick red locks. She smiled, leaning into his touch, already visibly relaxing.

“It’s fine. I got a little carried away, too. It’s normal.” She was comforting him, here, and he should really be comforting her.

“You were so incredible tonight.”

Abby wrinkled her nose, bashful, and closed her eyes as Sam began to rinse her hair with the warm water. “Thanks?” She sounded hesitant. “I didn’t do much but just lie there.”

He waited to say anything else while the water was running over her head. How could he even put into words the way he’d felt about her responses? She came out from under the water, and he picked up the conditioner. “I know this was your fantasy,” he said, “but I feel more like you were tapping into one of mine.”

“Oh?” She tipped her head to the side as he added conditioner to her long locks. “I guess that’s good, right? Like the sex club. It’s good when we both enjoy ourselves.”

“So you enjoyed yourself, too.” He needed to confirm.

“Yeah, I already said that.” She laughed. “You were a little surprising, though.”

It would probably seem that way to her, for sure. “I don’t know what I was saying, there.” The words were all coming back to him in waves, memories that embarrassed him even as much as they still turned him on. “I don’t…like to use language like that.”

Abby reached for the body wash, but he took it from her, squirting it onto her mesh sponge so he could wash her. Running his hands over her body like this, touching her tenderly, seemed to offset some of the cognitive dissonance about his previous actions. “What language?” she asked. When he hesitated, she guessed. “Cunt?”

“Yeah.” He never used that word, knew how offensive it could be. “I’m sorry.”

Now, she outright laughed, and he wasn’t expecting that. “Don’t apologize. It was hot. Dirty talk is hot.”