I have every intention of going slow, but she digs her nails into my ass, urging me on, and what little control I had left snaps. I slide my arms under her to grip her shoulders to give me better leverage and fuck her in long, intense strokes. I’ve gone too far already. I can’t stop, can’t slow down. Even if I wanted to, she’s urging me on with a ferocity that puts my own fierceness front and center.
“You feel so fucking good, Psyche.” I thrust hard, loving the way she moans in response. “All tight and wet and made just for me.”
“Eros.” She’s gasping and panting and still trying to urge me on. “More. Harder.”
I give up doing anything but exactly what she demands of me. I fuck her hard enough that the slap of flesh against flesh fills the room, punctuated by words I can’t keep inside. “Once more, beautiful girl. I want to feel you coming around my cock. It feels good, doesn’t it?”
“So good.” She whimpers and then her nails are on my back, biting in hard enough that I’ll be wearing her marks tomorrow. Fierce satisfaction lashes me. There’s no taking this back, just like there’s no taking back my ring on her finger and hers on mine. No matter what else happens, tomorrow there will be no pretending this was all a dream. We’re grounded too firmly in reality.
I adjust my angle, working to give her clit the friction she needs to get there before I do. She’s only too happy to help me, pressing her heels to the mattress to grind herself against my pelvic bone. Psyche becomes frantic. “Eros, please. Please, please, please.”
“I’ve got you.” I drag my mouth over her shoulder. “I won’t stop.”
I don’t stop. I keep up that careful angle, that intense motion, until she comes apart around me. I want to last. I do. But it feels too fucking good. She clamps around my cock, and it’s too late. I drive into her as I come, filling the condom.
I stare down at this woman, at my wife. She’s always gorgeous, but she looks like a goddess right now, her hair spread around her, her eyes half-shut with pleasure, her lips plumped from my kisses. I’m no photographer, not like Psyche is, but I would give my right arm to take a picture of her in this moment to keep with me always.
“Eros.”
If I tell her what I was just thinking, it will freak her out. She’s already skittish as fuck around me, and with good reason. The woman showed me kindness once, and then I essentially followed her home like a feral cat and forced her to marry me. “Don’t move,” I finally manage.
“I don’t think I can.”
That draws a rough laugh from me. My legs are more than a little shaky as I move off her and stagger to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. When I return, it’s to find her exactly as I left her. Again, I’m slammed with the intense desire to keep her like this forever. I want more than a picture to remember tonight by. I want more.
I want this to be longer than a single night.
With that in mind, I grab a handful of condoms and toss them onto the bed next to her. Psyche looks at them and then at me, her brows raised. “Someone’s ambitious.”
“The sun’s not up yet.”
The smile she gives me contains multitudes. “No, the sun’s not up yet.” She stretches. “But I’d like a chance to shower off the worst of the wedding before we do anything else.”
I offer my hand, a feral part of me crowing in victory when she sets her hand in mine. Such a small thing, allowing me to tug her to her feet, but it feels more significant than that. It feels like we really have started something meaningful. It’s foolish in the extreme to let myself believe that. Psyche might like the way I fuck, but she doesn’t like me.
She doesn’t hate me, though. She’s too good a person to let me touch her like this if she truly hated me. That’s a tiny ledge to stand on and wish for more, but I’ve been in more impossible situations and come out on top.
I maintain my grip on her hand and lead her into the bathroom. She doesn’t argue as I get the water going or when I follow her into the spray. For a moment, something wary lingers in her eyes. “If you could see the way you look at me. I don’t understand it.”
“What’s there to understand?” I can’t shut down my expression now. It’s a skill I’ve managed for as long as I can remember, closing out others and offering nothing I don’t intend to. But right here, right now, I’m an open book if she’s inclined to read me.
Psyche stares up into my face for a long moment, blushes, and ducks beneath the spray. I’m both disappointed and grateful for the reprieve. Some things are better left unsaid, especially when I’m still not sure how I’m feeling, when I’m riding the edge of control.