He kept stroking me, setting up a steady rhythm as he shifted his body. I could feel him bringing his knees forwards, and he broke the kiss, rising to watch me again.
“Don’t stop,” I said, burying my fingers in his hair, pulling him back to my lips. “Please, Dom, don’t stop touching me.”
He made the smallest noise from the back of his throat before he surged toward me, loving me in a way I hated that I wanted from him.
I wanted to come. I was a hot, writhing mess beneath him, my lust coasting as Dom brought me close and released me, ebbing and flowing to the point where I was ready to tear him from my lips and tell him how I really felt.
And I was so tired. I wanted someone to wash it all away so I didn’t have to fight any more. I didn’t have the strength to resist Dom when everything felt so good.
My body sang under him. I’d been waiting so long, hiding this feeling behind any excuse I could find. But it was still there, poking at the back of my mind.
With every cry that fell from me as I clung to him, desperately thrusting into his hands, I needed to ask. I thought my doubts would fade as I sunk deeper into him, but there was one worry eating away at me which grew louder with each stroke.
And then he pulled back. But it wasn’t to end the kiss.
“I want to taste you, handsome,” he said roughly as he moved downwards.
My heart exploded in my chest, my mouth dropping open as the question hit me so suddenly that my body twitched.
“Wait, Dom.” My throat was dry as I tried to find the right words. I clasped his neck, stopping his journey. He squeezed my cock and I winced, determined not to be taken away by pleasure. Even though it would be as easy as kissing him.
“What are we doing?” I blurted out as my heart pounded in my ears. I was more scared of asking him that than I was of him travelling down my body to take it further.
“What?” he murmured, focused on his task, not breaking the pattern of firm strokes that had pleasure bursting through me. I felt so weak as he drew close again, taking me with another soft kiss that had stars scattering behind my eyes.
But I had to ask. Lying there, lips moments apart as he stroked my cock, we stared deep into each other's eyes like we belonged together. And I still had to ask.
“What happens after this?” I asked, my heart beating so loudly it trembled in my voice.
“It doesn’t matter,” Dom said with a heated sigh. “Just don’t stop me.”
My eyes widened as his words slammed through me, and the reality of it drenched me. Because I could tell. I could tell just from the way he said it it wasn’t the same for him. It wasn’t anything special, and it didn't do for him what it did for me.
It wasn’t a new or meaningful experience because he had done it so many times that I was probably just another body for him.
It didn't matter.
Ididn’t matter.
Like he said, it wasn't important that he still slowly stroked my cock and I was seconds away from coming in his arms. Or that he looked at me with what I thought was desire.
He had probably looked at every person he fucked that way.
I grasped his hair, pulling him back, searching his face for anything that could tell me that this meant more to him. But his expression was no different than how he always looked at me.
“What’s wrong, handsome?”
“It doesn’t matter?” I asked quietly.
“What are you talking about?” he asked, looking at me in confusion.
“This doesn’t matter?” I asked again as I pulled myself back from him. I released his hair, plunging into ice-cold horror as I realised what I’d done, what he’d done to me, and what we'd just done to Molly.
Dom stilled as he looked down at me, his eyes running over my body, and I flinched, knowing what he saw.
“Harry, you said you wanted it. I wouldn’t have touched you if you didn’t want me to.”
I couldn’t even breathe as I looked at him. I needed him to get off of me; I had to move away from him before I told him how deeply he’d sliced through me with easy words.