Well, Actually

by Mazey Eddings

He shifts us, rolling me beneath him, his hands making quick work removing my shirt then his own. “Stunning,” he whispers, expression dazed as he soaks me in like it’s the first time he’s seeing me. A pang of affection slices through my chest, and I pull him down to me again. I want to escape from it all. Rylie kisses my neck, traces my collarbones with his tongue. He touches me in all the ways he knows I like while whispering words of encouragement into my ear. And I work to lose myself in it. But emotions are tight in my chest, sealing up my throat, making it feel impossible to breathe. My skull fills with a heavy tension, a cloud of gas that has the room spinning in a way that’s far from enjoyable. I cover my face with my arm, moaning into the crux of my elbow in a way I hope fools him. Rylie’s fingers play between my legs, and he feels the growing wetness, bringing it to his lips with a luxurious pull. He positions himself at my entrance, forgoing the condom like we have since we confirmed recent tests were negative. He presses into me with a smooth glide, and I wrap my legs around his hips like I can keep him there forever. Rylie sets a slow, lazy rhythm, savoring the drag of every inch against me. I’m whimpering, nearly crying from the combination of how good he feels, how tenderly he’s loving me, and how terrified I am that I’ve ruined everything I’ve worked for. My movements are sharp and jerky, every nerve too on edge to fully enjoy the thrill of his touch and ins...