He was typically gentler when we had sex, but this? This was raw and hard and everything I didn’t know I needed. We were swept up in the needs of the moment, our troubles drowned beneath an ocean of desire and expelled with each cry and groan. Still, despite the brutal rhythm of our coupling, he intermittently slowed down to check on me. I appreciated the sentiment, but I was fine in this position—more than fine. And I didn’t want him to hold back. I wanted him to fuck me harder.
