Page 92 of Pieces of Us

He needs more. I can tell he needs something more. He’s waiting for something more.

I squeeze my eyes shut and press my face against the crook of his neck.

My free hand shakes where it rests on his hip. Just once. Just move it back, lift it up, and drop it down. He wants it. He asked for it.

I can’t fucking do it. It’s like my nightmares, me frozen and useless.

“Come for me,” I say instead. “Sh-show me how good you feel.”

He makes a sound I can’t fucking interpret. I tighten my grip on his cock and fuck harder into him, hoping the slight roughness will be enough to push him over.

Spank him, the devil on my shoulder urges. He’ll come so hard. I bet all it takes is one spank.

I do it. The smack sounds sickeningly loud. I shudder, my stomach turning. “Was that too—” But he doesn’t give me a chance to finish. He’s already coming.

I watch as his cock paints my fist and the sheets white, his hole clenching around me. My hips keep moving on their own accord, my orgasm so close it’s taking over without me. He’s just starting to deflate against me when I come. He makes an adorably happy little sound, something that soothes a little of my unease. I let myself bask in the physical pleasure for a few seconds before gently laying us down on our sides, slipping two fingers inside him as my softened cock slides out.

There’s a moment where everything feels okay. We’re sated and sleepy and warm, our breaths nearly in sync. But then I register his heartbeat, speeding up instead of slowing down. I register the way his muscles tense. The way he takes a breath like he’s going to speak but ends up saying nothing at all.

It wasn’t enough.

I wasn’t enough.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my own heart pounding as I wait for him to tell me he doesn’t want to be with me anymore. “I can try harder next time. I’ll learn how to be more like what you want.”

He swallows hard enough for me to hear it. “Don’t worry about it. It’s okay, Mais. It was good. That was good.”

“So was the first time. But it wasn’t what you want.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “Wasn’t what you need.”

“That’s okay,” he whispers.

“But I want to give you that. I want to try.”

“It’s—I was wrong. It’s not what I want.”

The lie feels acidic in the air between us, threatening to burn our fragile relationship. “Please don’t lie to me.”

“It’s not a lie. I wanted—it just doesn’t hit the way I wanted, knowing you’re only doing it for me. It’s like I’m the dominant, even on the bottom. Like I was calling the shots and telling you what to do. Like you were being good for me instead of the other way around. I don’t know how to fix that. I don’t know if it’s even possible to fix that.” He turns in my arms, not seeming to mind when my fingers slip out of him. He forces a smile. The sight of it makes me sick. “It’s okay. Really. I just want you to be yourself. No more… that. No more pretending. Okay? It was better before. It was enough. You’re enough.”

I’m unbelievably relieved. I hate myself for that. He deserves more than just enough.

So fucking selfish.

“I can’t lose you,” I whisper.

“Hey.” He moves closer, half lying on top of me. His eyes are surprisingly clear and bright. When he smiles, it looks real this time. Sleepy, but real. “I’m not going anywhere. What’d you say before? It’s going to take so much more than this to ruin us. Sex has controlled my life for years, I’m not letting it take this away from me. I’m too fucking happy.”

I want to believe him. God, do I want to believe him. “Promise?”

“Promise.” He kisses me, soft and sweet, then pulls back to look me in the eyes. “It’s going to take a few tries to figure out how the pieces of us are going to fit together. It’s going to be hard sometimes. We’re probably going to have bad sex and fight about stupid shit and whatever else normal couples do. Our love story is going to be messy, but it’s going to be happy too. And you know what?”

My chest aches with hope. “What?”

“I can’t fucking wait.”

Epilogue

Nolan

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