Page 98 of End Game

That’s what this is. It’s fucking. It’s sex. We are certainly not making love. This is needy and brutal. Almost transactional. We both helped each other get off. Now we’re getting off a second time.

Together.

Withdrawing my fingers from inside of her, I draw them up between the split of her legs. She moans, spreading her knees farther and pushing back her shoulders, putting herself on display for me. I rub my well-lubricated finger over her crack but don’t explore any further.

“Not this time,” she says, a little out of breath.

Am I supposed to infer that there will be another time? Am I supposed to infer that she’s okay with the idea of anal? My cock jerks, and I feel dizzy all over again.

A quick stroke and then I’m ready for the condom. I roll it down my length and give the base a healthy squeeze. I can do this. It’s totally not a big deal. It’s only sex with my best friend in the world and the woman I’ve been in love with for the better part of fourteen years.

Notching my cock against her entrance, I check one more time.

“You good?”

“I’m golden,” she says. “Fuck me.”

Pushing in, I’m blinded by the tight, wet heat surrounding me. It’s almost too much. She tilts her hips back, taking more of me into her, and involuntarily my hips jerk forward into her.

“Wait a second,” she says, and I freeze with my cock halfway inside of her. She scoots up the bed, until my dick comes out, and I fall back on my haunches.

“What’s wrong?”

She moves about six inches up the bed and grabs hold of my headboard. She turns back over her shoulder to glance at me. “Nothing’s wrong. I just need something to hold on to.”

I move closer to her, notching myself at her entrance again. “You good?” My voice comes out hoarse.

“Fuck me,” she says.

And so I do.

She’s tight, impossibly tight, and hot and wet and silky and perfect. Clutching the headboard, she clenches around me and sticks her ass into the air. My hands land on her hips as I pull her onto me, then work her body forward, so she’s the one doing the fucking.

“Harder.”

She’s bossy, and I fucking love her for it. I fold myself over her back and fuck into her roughly, my hands tightening on her hips.

With one hand, she releases the headboard to slide between her legs, and I remove her hand and put it firmly back on the bed.

“Did I say you could touch yourself?”

She shudders out a breath. “N-no.”

“Mine. You’re mine.” She clenches around me, and I see stars.

She wants to be fucked out of her head, taken and used. She’s not some fragile flower; she’s strong and capable, and right now, she needs some extra support to stand tall. I’ll take the brunt of this, take the emotions and worry out of her head so all she can focus on is feeling good again. She needs to let go.

Ducking my head, I press a kiss against her shoulder blade, a gentle caress, before I move my free hand to her breast. Rolling her nipple between my fingers, I pinch at the beaded bud, and a fresh gush of wetness engulfs my cock.

“Do that again,” she says.

“What’s the magic word?”

“Please,” she says, and I do it again. “Please.” Diana moans, her head hanging between her shoulder blades. She clenches at me and works her hips, taking as much of me as she can. “Fuck, Barrett.” She’s panting now. “Holy f-f-f—”

Releasing her breast, I slide my fingers to where we’re connected so intimately, gathering our combined wetness and lubrication. I rub at her clit until she starts to clench around me, and I move my hand away.

“Barrett—please…”