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Not yet. You had bargained for two, and you took the second. This time, the heat and aggression were properly shared. Your lungs burned for breath, but you only gave them that momentary gasp before contact was made, and kept.
When you separated, it wasn’t because you willed it, but because your chest burned for breath enough to make you feel faint, and made you slip away, then yank yourself upwards, gasping, his sweet breath filling your own labored panting.
His hands had moved from your spine, to firmly squeezing your heinie, and moreover, while you had been making out, you had noticed another development, and ground yourself on it with a smirk.
“Am I makin’ you hard?” you asked smugly. Thank goodness your long-past insult of calling him <span class="mu-i">pencil dick</span> wasn’t coming back to bite you.
He let go of your ass, like he’d woken up. “Have patience, Anya,” he said as he sat up and carried you up with him, “Keep it in until marriage.”
Your body didn’t want to hear that. <span class="mu-i">You</span> didn’t want to hear that. You’d been riled up, damn it! Yet your blood was cooling. He was right- and so, the heat inside died, even if it left your cheeks last as you clambered off your boyfriend’s lap. A reassurance bubbled inside- <span class="mu-i">he</span> was holding himself back from <span class="mu-i">you</span>.
…Marriage though, huh. Psh. When would you be ready for that? You didn’t want to become your mother, after all…
You felt good, though. Like a million strossmarks. Made of gold and steel. Being kissed and groped hadn’t been healing in the past, but this was different.
The look on your boyfriend’s face had turned stony again, though. Troubled and cold. The warmth for some reason faded far faster from him than you. With that, a feeling that had been unknown until now had bubbled up where just a moment ago there had been nothing but affection.
That other bitch had to dealt with.
