“God, you’re so wet. And I love your ass.” His breath was hot between my legs, his fingers gliding in and out of me. “I want to fuck you like this.”
“Do it,” I begged.
He got to his feet and I heard the glorious sounds of a belt coming undone, jeans being unzipped. Then he stopped.
“Fuck, I don’t have a— “
“I don’t care. I’m on the pill. Just do it.” I arched my back and looked back over my shoulder, hoping my body looked irresistible. “Please.”
He placed the tip of his cock at my entrance, sliding it in just enough to torture me. “Please what?”
“Please fuck me.” I tried to push back against him, make him give me more.
But he held me steady, using his hands on my hips to hold me where he wanted me. “I love the way that sounds coming out of your mouth,” he said, pushing deeper. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say it before.”
I smiled, exhaling with relief as he glided in and out. “I guess I was too shy to tell you what I wanted back then. Or maybe I didn’t know yet.”
“So tell me now.”
I looked back. “Fuck me. And don’t be gentle.”
He began to move my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh as he jerked me back onto his cock. “I was always so scared to be rough with you,” he said, the strain in his voice telling me how he struggled to keep control. “I never wanted to hurt you.”
“You won’t.” But each time he hit the deepest spot within me, I felt a sharp little twinge, and once or twice it was enough to make me gasp.
“Good. Because ever since I saw you today, I’ve been thinking about fucking you just like this.” He reached up and tore the elastic from my hair before fisting a hand in it and pulling so hard I cried out. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he said through clenched teeth, his hips driving forward now in powerful thrusts that made my teeth clatter, “otherwise I can’t promise not to tear you apart.”
“I want you to,” I managed between hard, short breaths. “I want you to tear me apart. I want it to hurt.”
And as he cursed and groaned and fucked me so hard against his kitchen counter my skin would bruise, I was shocked to realize it was true—I wanted him to hurt me. Beyond enjoying rough sex, I wanted pain at his hands, wanted it bone-deep and razor- sharp. Wanted him to inflict damage on my body and make me feel unsafe, unsteady, unloved.
Safer that way.
Yes, I thought, gleefully, deliriously, maniacally, as he wrenched my head back. Yes, as he squeezed my breast too hard, pinched my nipple too tight. Yes, as he dropped my hair and clutched my neck, gripping hard. Yes, as his climax seized him and he groaned, pushing my hips painfully against the granite, his hand a collar around my throat. Yes, just like that. Make it hurt.
But as his breathing calmed, he released his hold on me. Bracing his arms on the outsides of mine, he kissed my spine between my shoulder blades and laid his forehead against it.
“Coco.”
I was hot and sweaty, but my arms prickled with gooseflesh. His voice was too soft, too tender. If you tell me you love me right now, I will fucking kill you. “Yes?”
“I need to tell you something.”
Oh, God. No. Please.
“Wait, Nick. Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t say anything that…you might regret. This weekend will be fun, but it’s just this weekend, remember? I don’t want us to get carried away and think it means more than it does. I don’t want to
confuse things by saying—or hearing—anything too serious.”
He picked up his head. “Jesus, Coco. I was just gonna say that my dick is so fucking happy right now. That too serious for you?”
My mouth hung open, and my face burned even hotter. I just made a total fool of myself.
Nick burst out laughing as he slid out of me and zipped up his pants. “Let me get you a towel, OK? Hold on.” Chuckling, he opened a drawer, pulled out a hand towel, and wet it at the sink.
Pulling the lace strap onto my shoulder, I straightened up and turned around, hoping that my facial hue was at least one shade paler than Russian Red. Nick went down on one knee in front of me, running the towel up the inside of one leg.
“No, I can do that.” I took the towel from him. “Please. Just let me.”
“Are you sure?” He looked up. “I don’t mind.”
“I’m sure. And I’m…” I sighed, squeezing my
eyes shut for a second. “Really sorry for lecturing you just now. I thought you were—never mind.” Shaking my head, I quickly swiped the towel up my other leg, scooped up my pajama bottoms, and headed for the downstairs bath. “Be right back.”
Inside the bathroom, I used the towel to clean up, shaking my head. How dumb was I? And how conceited? Thinking that a few random fucks meant that he was in love with me again. He wasn’t in love— he was just having a good time, like he always did. And honestly, I was too. It had been so long since I’d had sex, especially good and rough like that. Nick and I’d had plenty sex when we were together, but I knew myself and my body much better now. I had sexual preferences I’d never have been able to voice back then, either because I didn’t know them or was too self-conscious to do it.
My body shivered involuntarily as I recalled Nick’s reaction to my request. It was fucking perfect. You couldn’t tell just any guy you liked rough sex—I’d tried it a few times. One guy thought it was a free pass to be selfish, and I ended up feeling like a piece of gym equipment—overworked and dripping with someone else’s sweat. Another guy, one with Mommy Issues, didn’t get what I meant at all. “Like, you want me to hit you? I don’t think I can do that. I’ve got some childhood trauma.” And then there was the one who ran to his closet and came back with a leash and collar and asked if he could take me for a walk around the house on all fours before he fucked me. And would I mind barking?