I never think I can come again, and then it happens faster than the first. “Coach,” I moan, the sweat disappearing into his groin. “Coach, I’m close,” I warn him, still unable to last more than a few minutes with him. Tingling spreads through the base of my skull, and my toes curl, and my stomach clenches. “Yes, oh my gosh,” I moan, my eyes snapping shut as the first contraction takes hold.
“Good job,” he praises, his tone frayed and thin, givingaway his ungodly restraint. “There you go, mama, come for me,” he adds as hot liquid spills onto my skin. He’s close, spearing his weighty cock through his precum on my groin as I continue to writhe beneath him, the pressure of his shaft against my clit making me insane.
He talks me through each clenching wave, and when I’m panting and wet, my muscles completely spent, he takes me by the hips and flips me onto my hands and knees.
Panting and dazed, I listen to Dean’s heavy groans, and focus on the feel of his cock slippery between my ass cheeks. “Count down for me, Clara June,” he guides, “Start at five.”
My legs tremble, and my clit is still tingling from the orgasms. “Five,” I pant just as he thrusts his cock between my cheeks. I love how he’s right where no one else has ever been, but not touching it, or playing with it, just teasing me by being near it. Using my ass to masturbate himself, he calls out for me to countdown.
“Come on, what’s next,” he breathes, his thumbs sinking into my hips with a groan.
“Four,” I nearly stammer, and his groin slaps my ass again. Precum splatters against my back.
“Three.” More thrusts, more grunts from Dean, a harder grip on my waist, and a few curse words.
“Two,” I murmur, then close my eyes to focus on what I know is coming soon. Him.
Before he lets me count one, he presses his chest to my back, leaning over me completely, trapping his cock between our bodies like a steel pipe. “Imagine me deep inside you, Clara June. Imagine coming on my cock over and over, because I’m holding you there, making you do it again and again. You know how good you’re gonna feel, mama, once I’m finally inside you?”
I just came. For the second time. And yet when Dean’s hips resume their roving, and he fills the room with a groan that rattles the art on the walls, I think I may do it. I think I may have another orgasm.
“Clara June.” My name is the last moan to tumble from his lips before he comes, covering my back and ass in heated streaks of cum. I don’t know if it’s how he sounds when he comes, or if it’s the tease of having his cum on my skin, but I give him my third right then and there without orders.
My legs slam together and my spine wobbles. Dean knows, and his hands sink deeper into my hips as he talks me through it. “I know, I know,” he hushes me as I moan and writhe, face pressed into the mattress. “Pretty soon all that will be inside you, mama. Soon enough,” he says, making my mind spin out into a million different kinky, hot, lifelong fantasies. I become buoyant for a moment, and I realize he’s slipped off the bed. He returns with a towel and cleans me up before yanking me against his bare chest. He doesn’t bother pulling the sheet up to hide our nudity, and I don’t mind, surprisingly.
Dean traces circles on my back as he holds me to his chest, his chin stacked on my head. “How are you feeling? Sore?”
I nod. “Yeah but a good sore. I can’t wait to try again, to take more.”
Dean holds me a bit tighter when I say that. “Thank you for going slow with me.”
I let the truth slip free. “Slow is smart, but I’d be lying if I said I don’t think about having it all, right now.”
Dean surprises me. “Clara June, do you want more kids?”
This is the talk he was referencing.Okay, we’re doing this. I sit up, and turn, facing him. His face is soft, but his eyes are serious. Before I can answer, he sits up, too, and cups his palm to my cheek. “Don’t freak out, alright? It’s just… I have strong feelings for you, Clara June. And I’ll be forty soon. I can’t afford to not know where you stand, not with how I’m feeling.”
I want to ask him how exactly he’s feeling, I want to give him a pen and a piece of paper and have him write how he feels. I want to hand him my phone and tell him to find a song that shows me how he feels. I want to climb on top of him, cozy against his massive frame and let him show me how he feels, with his hands, lips and cock.
Instead, I focus on the calmness of his words, and this question. “Well,” I start, “I always wanted four or five kids. I always wanted to be the stay at home mom with a whole slew of kids. I thought that was so special. And I was always envious of those families, either in real life or on TV.”
He nods, but waits for more.
“I guess I thought once I got divorced, I was done having kids because, yeah, a crucial part of the having a kid element was missing.” My heart is nervously rattling behind my ribs as I swallow, and ask the question that is hanging between us. “Do you want children of your own?”
Dean reaches for my hand, weaving our fingers together. “I do want children, but I want you, too.”
I don’t understand what he’s saying, and my face must give me away.
He takes my other hand, and pulls me onto his lap, leaning against the headboard. “If you don’t want to do it all again, I would understand. And I want you to know, Clara June, that I want you more than I want anything else.”
I nod my head against his chest, loving the soft scrape of his barbed hair. “I hadn’t thought about doing it again, about having more children, because I didn’t think I’d ever have another relationship.” I stroke my fingers over his chest, my eyes growing heavy. “But now I do.”
He kisses my head. “Now you do.”
I yawn and fight the overwhelming urge to sink into sleep. But it doesn’t work. The next time I open my eyes, the entire room is dark, and I’m in Dean’s arms, warm and safe.
I fall back asleep easily, because that’s how it is with Dean. Easy.
