After Forever (18 page)

She didn’t rush, didn’t allow herself to go crazy. She kept an even rhythm, sliding up and down my cock, using only the strength in her legs to push up. Her eyes never wavered from mine. Some spark in them, that chasm-deep hint of vulnerability, it was gone. Hidden.
 

I felt myself going close, gripped her hips in my hands and started to move her, pull her down.

“No.” She took my hands in hers, pulled them away from her hips, and replaced them on her boobs. “Not yet. Don’t come yet.”

We never spoke during sex.
 

I held still and focused on control, on holding back. She kept the rhythm, slow and steady, eyes locked on mine, hands on my shoulders, just holding on. Moving. Stroking slowly. Sliding with controlled grace. I didn’t dare look away, didn’t dare move, because if I did, I’d lose it. I was holding back by sheer effort, teeth grinding, muscles tensed.

“Not yet.” Her fingers turned to talons on my shoulders, nails digging in. “Not yet.”
 

It was nearly impossible to hold back now. I gripped her waist and let my fingers crush her. I forced myself to loosen my grip for fear of bruising her skin.

“No, it’s fine. Hold on tight. Not yet.” Her movements began to grow powerful, forceful, still slow but harder and harder. “Hold onto me. Not yet. Not yet.”
 

“Fuck. Fuck.” I was shaking, and I knew my hands must be gripping her hips with vise-like strength, but her fingers were clawing down my chest and she was tipping forward, leaning into me as she began to lose control of her motion, to lose the grace of her strokes.
 

“Almost. Almost.” She fell forward, all her weight on me now, only her hips moving, gyrating and grinding, and her fingers clawed my back, gouged my skin, left trails of fire.
 

I focused on the pain, struggling to wait. I was groaning now, pressure like an overloaded boiler within me, needing release so bad it hurt, it burned, it ached. “I can’t…I can’t—”

She was jerking herself by her hands now, shoving her body down, groaning through gritted teeth. “Almost…not yet, god, not yet.”

“I can’t wait. I have to—”

“No, no, wait, wait—”

“Fuck,
fuck
, I can’t wait.”

She sank her teeth into the round part of my shoulder and growled, lifted up, hovered, and then sank down so hard it hurt, and with that I could keep it back no longer, I exploded with convulsive force.
 

A short shriek left her throat. “Yes, now,
now
! Fuck,
fuck
yes—”

I bit back the roar that rumbled in my chest, gripped her hipbones in my hand and let myself go, let myself fuck up into her hard, harder than I’d ever fucked in my life, and I found her breasts brushing my face, found her hard nipple scraping my mouth, and I took it between my teeth and bit down.

 
Eden screamed between clamped molars, her forehead pushing at mine; she raked her fingers down my chest, rising up away from my downstroke, and met me with enough force that our hips jarred and our flesh slapped, and the force of my orgasm was wrenching, dizzying, unrelenting, painful in its power.
 

Three more times we collided like that, both of us coming so hard we couldn’t breathe, could only grit our teeth and grip each other and ride the tsunami crest.
 

And then she went limp and I couldn’t hold her up, couldn’t do anything but rest my hands on her thighs and take her weight. We breathed together in silence, and then I levered myself upright, dragged my feet under me, held on to Eden’s back with both hands and pushed myself to my feet, holding her weight, took a shaky step, locked my knees, and then moved with us to my bedroom. Eden clung to me, and then when she felt the bed beneath her she crawled away from me, found the pillow, and burrowed under the covers.
 

“Spoon me,” she mumbled. “Please?” The last word was a ragged, broken plea.

I slid behind her, fit our bodies together, and we slept.

~ ~ ~ ~

Eden

I woke up with full awareness of whose bed I was in, what we’d done the night before, what our desperate, needy sex had almost become. Cade was still behind me, spooning me, both of us having been so exhausted we’d slept without stirring. Dawn filtered through his windows. A bird chirped. I heard his breathing falter, felt him start to wake.

I felt his cock wake up, too. It hardened right between the cheeks of my ass. I’d never had sex in the morning. I bit my lip, then went for it. I knew he wasn’t awake yet, but I also didn’t care. Everything between us up to that point had been about losing ourselves in mutual need. This was about something I wanted, something just for me.
 

Remaining on my side, I threw my top leg over his, wriggled and shifted so the tip of his erection touched the suddenly damp folds of my core. I heard him groan, felt him shift his hips in response. I hesitated, wondering if maybe I should wait until he was fully awake. But then if I did that, he’d probably want to talk about last night, and I just couldn’t handle that conversation.
 

So I curved my back into his chest, then straightened so he sank into me. He groaned, and I bit my lip so hard I tasted the tang of blood. I rolled my hips, and a whimper was torn from me as his cock touched me briefly in just the right place. I sought that contact again, the angle that had him striking me just so, and he was groaning, stretching even as he moved with me. His hand gripped my hip, tender and gentle. His lips touched my shoulder. No. No. Not good. I craned my neck and saw that he was blinking awake, pulling at my hipbone to get deeper. I moaned, unable to stop it. He was hitting me deep inside, and I was, within minutes, on the verge of coming.

And then he spoke, a soft murmur. “Ever? God, you feel good.”

I cried out, curled into myself.
 

He started, and I felt him falter. “Oh…oh,
shit.
Eden. I—fuck, I was…I was dreaming. I thought it was a dream.”

I shook my head, wanting to tell him it was fine, but not capable of it. I scrambled out of the bed, aching inside, feeling the impending orgasm building and hovering on the verge, potential energy teetering on the brink of becoming kinetic. I tripped as I ran for the
en suite
bathroom, elbowed the door closed, but it only shivered and touched the jamb, not latching. I didn’t care. I sank down onto the toilet lid, buried my face in my hands, and fought for breath and for control. I sobbed, choked it down.

I told myself he hadn’t meant it. He’d been half-asleep and dreaming. Of his wife, naturally. Thinking it was her, thinking it was a dream. He’d told me he’d been having dreams. Maybe he’d thought in his sleeping mind that all of what had passed between us had been the dream, and that he was waking up to her. What a wrenching wake-up that must have been.

My pussy throbbed, needing the finish to what I’d begun. I was on the edge of hysteria, cut deep by Cade’s accidental slip, and still burning with the need to come. I sat back on the toilet, stretched my legs out and spread my heels wide apart, dipped two fingers against my clit and circled it, swiping in slow, measured strokes, seeking the right amount of pressure.
 

There, god, there it was. I whimpered. It was unsatisfying, but better than going through the day aching with the snarling frustration of an unfinished orgasm. There was little worse, to me. I
had
to come once I started, or I’d be a mess all day. I let my head rest against the cold porcelain of the back of the toilet and brought myself back to the peak.

I heard the hinges creak and couldn’t stop myself as he threw the door wide, mouth open to apologize. “Eden, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean—oh, shit…um…” He was still hard, too, bobbing from side to side as he stumbled to a stop in the middle of the bathroom.
 

I couldn’t stop now. I was there, right there. If I stopped now, I’d never get it back. But look at him, painfully hard, slick and glistening with juices.
 

He started to back away, but he was clearly unable to tear his gaze from watching me touch myself.
 

“Don’t go,” I gasped. “Watch.”

“Eden…”

“Come closer.” I crooked my finger at him, and he took a few steps toward me, as though my finger was tied to a string around his waist. He stopped, standing between my legs. “You, too.” I pushed his hand onto his cock.

He grasped himself in his fist, touched himself, slowly at first. “I didn’t mean—”

“I know,” I interrupted. “It’s fine.” It hurt; it wasn’t fine.
 

But I was on the verge of orgasm and didn’t care, not then. Especially not as I watched the plump mushroom head of his cock turn purple as he squeezed himself, then slid his fist down his length, and his eyes were on me, watching my two middle fingers circle madly in my pussy, my other hand at my boob, pinching my nipple, twisting and tweaking it.
 

I came. It was a slow and roiling climax, pushing through me like a mudslide. I gasped, breath caught, and my hands worked my body until I couldn’t come anymore. Cade was still going, stroking himself hard and fast, standing over me, eyes hooded, watching me with his head tipped back, lip curled in a snarl.

I watched him, watched his balls clench and his eyes close, watched his motions go frantic, and then he jerked his fist down his length violently, once, groaning hard. A thick stream of come spat out of him and coated my tits and my belly, and I took his cock from him, leaned forward swiftly and wrapped my mouth around the soft springy head of his cock and sucked as he came again, spurting into my throat, sliding my fist down his length as fast and hard as I could, and he groaned, thrust involuntarily. I stretched my head forward and opened my throat and took the thrust, felt a third spasm shoot down my throat.

He cried out and pulled free. “Jesus, Eden.” He turned and sagged against the opposite wall. “That was crazy. I’ve never done anything like that.”

“Me, either,” I said.

“I came in here to apologize,” he said, “not to—”

“It wasn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have done that while you were asleep. I should be the one to apologize.”

He scrubbed his hand through his hair. “I just…I thought I was dreaming. I do that, I have these really intense dreams, so real, like I wake up and I can’t figure out if I’m awake and the dream was a dream or if I’m still asleep and the dream was reality…I get so confused, and I thought I’d been dreaming what happened with us—”

“I know,” I said, pivoting on the toilet seat. “I shouldn’t have done that to you. I’m sorry.” I couldn’t look at him, mortified at what he’d watched me do, now that I was out of the grip of the moment.
 

“That was kind of…crazy,” Cade said, seeming as embarrassed as I was.
 

It was strange for us to be embarrassed. We’d seen the worst in each other, and often brought it out. But that, it had been a strange and intimate tableau, and neither of us knew how to deal with it.

“I’ve never done anything like that. I’ve never watched anyone—”

“I haven’t, either,” I rushed to admit.
 

Silence, heavy and awkward yet again.
 

“Why don’t you take a shower?” he suggested.

I grimaced. “God, that would be fucking amazing.”

He turned away. “I’ll—I’ll put out some clean clothes for you. You can borrow—”

I cut him off, spared him having to say her name. “Thanks.”

I took a long, hot shower, scrubbed myself raw while I tried to make sense of what my life had become. Things with Cade were getting out of hand. The more we gave in, the more I wanted it, needed it. And last night, I’d started to
feel
something unfurling in my chest, deep at the root of my heart. Something that simply could not be.
 

But I knew simply staying away from Cade wouldn’t help. As long as our lives continued in this impossible no-man’s land of pain, unable to mourn and unable to move on, unable to help or do anything but wait, we’d keep falling into this. Staying away wouldn’t help. We’d tried that over and over again. One of us would break. I’d been close to breaking his door down myself when he texted me while I was at the gym. I’d been on a stationary bike, pedaling for all I was worth, and my phone had gone off. I’d seen his name on the screen, the four little words. I’d left immediately, knowing exactly what would happen and wanting it. But I’d made myself wait to text him back, not wanting to seem eager. And in that time I’d worked myself into anger, resenting him for pushing me away. Well, even anger couldn’t stop us. Anger seemed to exacerbate things, if anything, making it that much more intense of a high.

It really was a drug. The more I got, the more I needed. And I didn’t know where the endpoint was. I was afraid I’d reached the event horizon, the point from which I’d never escape the inexorable gravity of needing him.
 

After I stepped out of the shower and dried off, I examined myself in mirror. I noted fingerprints bruised into the skin of my hips where he’d gripped me, dark bruises as reminders. I didn’t mind the bruises, oddly. I wrapped the towel around my chest and left the bathroom, found Cade sitting at the kitchen table wearing nothing but a pair of shorts, the ones from last night, I was pretty sure. I approached him from behind, and winced as I saw four parallel scratch marks on both shoulders. He heard me, turned around. I gasped; I’d gouged his chest even worse. I hadn’t noticed while he was in the bathroom with me.
 

“Holy shit, Cade. I didn’t realize I’d scratched you that badly.”

He glanced down, making that strange face we make when trying to see something just beneath our chin. “Yeah, you got me pretty good.” He looked up at me. “Did I mark you at all?”

I pulled aside the towel, showing him the bruises on my hips. “A couple of bruises. Nothing
that
bad,” I said, gesturing at the claw marks on his chest.
 

He leaned forward, examining the bruises. “Shit, Eden. I’m sorry. I knew I shouldn’t have—”