Page 53 of Harbor Me

"There?" I keep that angle.

“There. God, there. Don't you move an inch off it."

I feel her tightening around me, her body winding up, each thrust pulling a sound out of her that's louder than the last. She's close. Clenching around my cock in waves, her thighs trembling, pussy fluttering, breathing growing more ragged by the second.

"Come for me." I can barely get words out. "I want to feel you come on my cock."

She climaxes with her eyes open. Looking straight at me. Her whole body seizes, her back bows off the mattress, breasts pressed flat against my chest. Her mouth opens on a sound that makes my balls throb. Then she locks down around me so hard she stops my momentum, locking me in place. She's pulsing and shaking and gripping me with her whole body and halfway through she breathes my name, quiet, full of wonder, like she can’t believe I’m here with her.

I bury my face in her neck and follow her.

It rolls up from the base of my spine and hits me everywhere at once and I come inside her with my arms shaking, my mouth open against her shoulder, her name on every breath I take. I can feel her heartbeat hammering against my chest. I can feel mine hammering right back.

I don't pull out. I don't move. I don't let go.

The rain keeps falling outside. Her fingers are in my hair. Slow. Gentle. Scratching lightly against my scalp.

"Stay," she says.

Against my better judgment I do exactly that.

For a while we just lie there. Her bed is too small for both of us. My feet hang off the end, and my shoulder is jammed against the wall and she's half on top of me because there isn't another option, her head on my chest, one leg hooked over mine, her fingers tracing pictures on my stomach that she probably doesn't know she's drawing.

The rain hasn't stopped. It might never stop. I don't care.

"You know what's funny?" she says.

"What?"

"You said maybe twelve words to me today. Before this."

"I said plenty of words."

"You said, 'I need you on the dock' and 'before you get stuck here.' That's not plenty."

"Those are functional sentences."

"Those are orders." She props her chin on my chest and looks up at me. "And then you show up at my door and deliver a whole monologue."

"That wasn't a monologue."

"You told me you wanted to put me on my desk."

"Your desk is my desk."

"That's your takeaway?"

I look at the ceiling which has a crack in it that runs from the window to the light fixture. That should be looked at.

"I talk more when I'm not wearing pants. Sue me."

She laughs. Full and warm against my ribs, and I feel it in places that should be finished for the night. They are definitely not finished for the night.

She feels it too. Her hip is against mine, and I'm thickening against her thigh. She lifts her head and looks at me with her eyebrows up.

"Already?"

"Don't make it weird."