Free Your Desire by Francis Drake, Dee S. Knight Page B

difficult as it had been not to call after leaving her apartment that first night, he’d known instinctively it was for the best. When he’d answered the door the following Saturday, distracted at being interrupted, he couldn’t believe she’d come to him. And stayed.
    Now he fought the hard-on that sprang to life when he remembered the good, long time in the shower that Sunday morning. Her breasts weren’t big or full, but they filled his hands and were a tender mouthful, too. Enjoying them had occupied several minutes before he’d soaped her, smoothing his hands over her slick body until she moaned with need.
    When he lifted her over his erection and pressed her against the tile wall, neither of them had considered a condom. They’d thought only of hot water sluicing off bodies and steam filling the shower stall, as though it emanated from their fiery frenzy. Pounding hearts matched their bodies as they came together. Loving her without a rubber was just as he’d thought it would be—pure bliss as his cock drove into her over and over until she came with volcanic-like contractions, and tremors that shook them both.
    Later, when breath had been caught and heart rates returned to normal, she’d assured him that she was on birth control and health issues were discussed to mutual satisfaction. More than satisfactorily for Kailen, since it meant that whenever they fucked he would feel her orgasm with no barriers. Now that he knew how it felt when her muscles clenched his cock, he didn’t ever want to go back to being sheathed in latex. Skin to skin, her cream coating him and his cum filling her—that’s the only way it should be between them. The mere thought made his rigid cock ache even more now. If he didn’t do something to distract his body, he’d have to call for a break.
    During breakfast that Sunday, when she’d reverted to her public, more conservative self, he’d explained again why he thought they shouldn’t see each other any longer, although now that he’d had her—really had her—he’d been loath to tell her she should stay away. Her arrival at his loft had struck him in a way he hadn’t been prepared for.
    When he’d made his case to say goodbye, she’d looked at him with her big brown eyes that turned soft and warm rather than heated, and said, “I need you,” and he’d felt a stab of joy that was completely unexpected.
    They hadn’t gone to her apartment since that first night. She seemed to prefer the careless mess of his place to the pronounced neatness of hers, and he didn’t mind. Her apartment was her life without him, whereas his place represented somewhere she wanted to be, with him.
    That Sunday he’d cancelled plans with friends so he and Derica could be together. She’d stripped then donned his shirt as soon as they’d gotten home. They’d read the newspaper together on the sofa, and when she stretched out for a nap, he’d sketched her.
    Another quick drawing, this in one of his dress shirts, with the tie hanging loose and the top buttons undone, depicted Derica raising the hem of the shirt to show off the vee of brown curls at the juncture of her thighs, while her smile held no question as to what she demanded of the viewer. He loved the look of her, the feel of her, the sheer animalism she exhibited. And how she made him feel when he was with her, as well as inside her.
    In the past two weeks, they’d been active lovers, though at her insistence she hadn’t remained at his apartment overnight again. He assumed it was her effort to keep the two parts of her life separate, and at the beginning he hadn’t minded, had even thought it best.
    Between and around episodes of mind-blowing sex, they’d had long conversations and shared jokes. He started to look forward to her visits, and felt unreasonable pangs of disappointment on days when she called to say she wouldn’t be coming over. Their ordinary talks about what had happened since they’d last been together took