Commitment

Part 99

Five minutes later, he mumbled, "Fuck. That was," his face lodged between her shoulder, neck, buried in her pillow, "fucking amazing." He felt her response as she giggled at his heartfelt response. And he felt the same amazing euphoric. Beyond elated. Blissful was not enough to describe his current state. Exhilarated was not enough to sum his feelings. And the word enraptured failed to include the fact he was in love. Utterly, completely in love with her. Was in love and loved her. Love. The word swam through his blood, triumphant.

"I can't move." He murmured more for himself because he could not roll away and was currently beached on her.

Her fingers stroked his back. Thrilled with the fact she was still beneath him, loved the way his body enveloped her, that he had not rolled away immediately, because he had no energy.

"And stop doing that!" He said with humour. She kissed his shoulder. "Fuck." He ground his hips against her and mumbled as he knew his semi-erection was about to be transformed, "Regan, if you continue, you would have no time to recover!"

"Ok. I thought you were bushed." And she started to rake his back, digging her nails in and biting his shoulder, hoping her activities would goad him into actions.

"Fuck! You are insatiable." He growled with a smile. A smile, because his body signalled he had found energy. Proud that he was nearly ready! Overjoyed that their bout of sex was not over.

"Assume that is good." She squirmed beneath his body. With her fingers, she reached between their bodies and with utter tenderness she moved his erection. It grew in her palm. "I think you have recovered." She giggled. "Just need some help?" She stroked, encased his erection, friction that was bliss and agony. Throbbing. Aching. Pleasure.

She was amused. She had power, she recognised when he saw his expression in his face.

"Fuck, are you laughing at me?" He ground his hips.

She giggled. She stroked his erection, now held by hostage by their hips and her palm. He kissed her breast, then nipped her nipple, and her giggle was replaced by a mewl. It was his time to smile. He moved, demanding access, and it allowed her fingers to manoeuvre his erection to the junction of her legs. Again he filled her and stretched again, but with additional lubricant from their recent activities, it felt perfect.

He planted his elbows beside her head, their hips fused again, he lifted his upper body so that he could look at her. "Look at me." He ordered.

She looked at him.

"Ok?" He asked. "Hard."

With a breathless hitch to her voice, she said, "Yes."

He partly pulled out. Her breath caught. Slowly, he drove higher. She panted. He partly pulled out. Again, slowly, he drove higher. The same pattern, more thrusts but with various force: he gently stroked in and out matched with rough penetration, in equal measure. Her legs splayed on either side of his hips, his hardness buried in her. The friction had her mewling.

She shrieked, "Now!" She knew she was close to exploding.

He chuckled, but his heart hammered, and his voice was guttural when he said, "No." His mouth found hers. He plunged hard.

Regan's fingers grabbed fistfuls of hair as she deepened the kiss hoping to tip him over the edge and set off her climax.

He broke the kiss, arching his back, the muscles in his neck corded as he gritted his teeth, "Open your eyes." As soon as she did, he buried himself and she came. She screamed.

Some ten minutes later, they lay side by side, fingers linked, sated and smiling at the ceiling. "I don't like your wallpaper." He muttered. "You need to move into my room until Lore fixes this room up for us. Or just leave it and move into my room permanently."