Page 140 of Mate
“Are you wearing fuckingclothes?”
“It’s just your sweater. I can— ”
“You’re not supposed to leave.”
He’s not joking. He’s genuinely upset that I . . . walked twenty feet and put on a hoodie? Hormones, man.
“I’m sorry,” I say, appeasing. He can’t help this any more than I can. “I didn’t mean to worry you. Let’s go back to bed.”
But we don’t. He silently flips me around and bends me over the table, uncaring of the papers scattered all over or the bottle rolling into the living room. He maneuvers me until one of my knees is on the edge, and once I’m spread open, he pushes inside me so roughly, I come halfway through the first thrust. He knots me quickly, in a few unceremonious, glorious strokes. For him it seems to be more about locking me closer than about coming,but my thighs shake with my orgasm and the effort to stay upright.
“Poor killer.” He hugs me and kisses my cheek. “She didn’t do as she was told, and now look.”
It doesn’t feel like punishment, not when his knot grinds inside me. That little bit of friction, coupled with his hand strumming my clit, makes me come so many times, I don’t even remember making it back to the bed.
ON THE MORNING OF THE THIRD DAY, THE URGENCY SUBSIDES.Somewhat.
“Is it over?” I ask Koen.
He scoffs. Twenty minutes later, when I climb on top of him, desperate for relief, I understand why.
But itisgetting better. Less intense. With longer spells of normalcy. Thefuck or dieis waning in favor of . . . “Fuck or cry, maybe?” I tell him, and he laughs.
The end of this is in sight, and I donotwant to look at it.
I feel good enough to take a shower, but Koen tries to talk me out of it, protesting that I won’t smell like him anymore.
“We are in your house. You are right here. There’s no way I’ll smell like anyone else.”
He grumbles for a while, even as he joins me and helps me clean up, looking morose the entire time.
Cute. He’s socute.
For the first time in weeks, the water doesn’t sucker punch my skin into submission.
“What came before Neanderthals?” I ask him afterward.
He shrugs. Pouts.
“Whatever they were, you’re the onebeforethem.”
He tosses me an apple, and hisshut up and eatlook is wry enough, I think I’m forgiven. But I’m deluding myself, becauseafterward, once the fever rises again, he makes me pay for it with his mouth on my cunt.
“I didn’t mean to— ”
“You didn’t mean to wash away my come like it’s a bad thing?” He sucks on my clit so hard, I almost pass out.
“I’m sorry. I’msorry. Koen, please, you said— ” I sob. It’s too much. Too good. Is this what happens when people slowly descend into madness and despair? Isthisthe feeling? “You said that I can’t come from this.”
“You can’t.” He leaves a bite on the tender strip where my thigh and my abdomen meet. I yelp, even though the pain is better than the constant, unbreakable tension.
“Then why are you doing it?”
“Because unlike you,Ican.”
He can. And he does. A minute later I watch him, wide-eyed, as he comes just from eating me out. He growls his orgasm into my flesh, twitching with pleasure, kissing me throughout, and even though I’m left trembling and unsatisfied, even though I’m still in my twenties, I know that it’s the most erotic thing I’ll ever experience.
When he moves up, he’s still hard, tacky once again, and I cannot look away. My hands shake. I’m rapidly approaching the point where I’ll beg him, but this is my first chance to truly look at his knot. Since it’s usually inside me.
