I can't believe that was me last night, that I let—that Ibegged—Ren to come on my breasts. While I didn't derive any physical, sexual pleasure from it myself, the intensity of the situation was its own reward. But more so, Ren's pleasure was my reward. My freedom in being able to do such things with the man I love is its own reward.
I had him above me, and I didn't panic.
Ienjoyedit.
I liked his weight over me, his presence surrounding me. Rather than oppressive and triggering, it was comforting and safe and…arousing. He makes me feel small and delicate and beautiful. I can show him what I have long thought of as weakness, and I can trust him with it. With all of me.
My hand rests on his belly, low, below his navel. Arousal burns in my veins, creates a pressure inside me—not a need for release, but a desire for him. I crave him. I crave his body. His heat, his weight, his power, his aggression, his need. I crave his touch. I crave his body—I need to feel his hardness in my hands.
I imagine Ren above me, his dark eyes piercing mine. I picture his mouth on my breasts, his hand between my legs. His cock in my hands. His hips between my thighs. His erection at my entrance. Filling me. Entering me.
Instead of terror and panic at the image, I feel…arousal, a hot pulsing pressure swelling inside me. Need for Ren.
Ren stirs, grumbles sleepy, wordless noises. His hips shift, tilt. I let my hand drift lower, and I encounter him waiting for me, a curled comma of manhood drooping against his thigh. I cup him, wondering at the strangeness of the fact that, like this, I can fit all of him in my cupped hand, yet when he grows to full erection, I need both hands to grip his entire shaft.
He exhales heavily, groaning quietly, and his hips tilt again; I feel his cock stir under my hand, thickening, hardening, growing. I palm his heavy soft warm balls, enjoying the feel of him, letting myself feel possessive of him.
He ismine. His body ismine. Just I am his, my body is his.
Slowly, his cock unfurls in my hand, becoming a hot, silky, rigid shaft in my fist. I stroke him, resting my cheek on his back, smiling to myself at the joy I feel in simply being able to do this. To touch him without fear, to enjoy his body without flashbacks or triggers.
"Soph?" Comes his low, rough, sleepy rumble. "Feels good."
He rolls to his back and I drape myself half on him, nuzzle his cheek and caress his big, beautiful cock.
"Good morning, my handsome lover,” I whisper. "I woke up wanting you."
He turns his face to mine but doesn't kiss me. "I woke up with your hand on my cock. Can't get any better than that."
I grin against his jaw. "Hmmm. Maybe if you woke up in my mouth?"
"That would be pretty amazing," he agrees.
For another few moments, he simply lays on his back, eyes closed, a smile on his face, letting me caress him.
And then he rolls into me, forehead to forehead, his fingers diving between us to my clit. I let my hand drift down his length, not trying to make him come, just touching him for the pure joy of it—he, however, is trying to make me come.
And he succeeds, quickly.
A few circles of his fingers over my clit, and I'm a gasping, writhing mess, needing more. "Ren," I whisper. "I need you."
His answer is to roll to his back, taking me with him. His hands grip my hips as I straddle him, sitting on my shins with my body pressed against his, my hands burying in his hair. He palms my ass, growling a sound of pure male appreciation.
"Fuck, you’ve got a great ass," he murmurs. “You know that?"
"I do now," I whisper.
He starts to lift me up his body. "C'mere. You need to come for me."
I resist his pull, sitting down on his belly. My heart hammers in my chest as I let my true need grow into a rolling boil within me. "I don't want that right now, my love," I breathe, lips brushing his ear.
He squeezes my ass. "No? What do you want, then?"
Swallowing hard, nerves jangling in every cell—but just nerves, not fear—I reach between us, grasp his erection. Notch the broad plump tip against the seam of my pussy. "This," I whisper.
"Sophia, are you sure?" He cups my cheek, gazing into my eyes, searching me.
I stroke his length, keeping him pressed against my seam. "Yes," I whisper. "I'm sure. I want you. I woke up wanting you. Needing you. Needingthis."
