We Both Paid the Same Stranger to Sublet the Same One-Bedroom, and Neither of Us Would Move Out novel · Chapter 12 of 24

Chapter 12: Fill Me

He laid me down on the braided rug.

It was Tuesday night, and the dresser was back against the door, and the whole apartment had gone to sleep with the lights off.

The rug was rough under my back.

A square of streetlight lay across the floor and across his shoulders as he knelt over me.

I could see every line of his face.

"Floor," I said.

"You like the floor."

"I like that you're on it."

"I'm on my knees."

"Keep them there."

I pulled his T-shirt off over his head and dragged my hands down his chest.

He caught my wrists and pinned them to the rug above my head with one hand.

"Not yet," he said. "Let me look."

"You've looked."

"Not at all of you. Not like this."

He undid my shirt one button at a time, and parted it, and let the cold air hit my skin.

My nipples tightened.

He bent and took one in his mouth, slow, with a drag of his tongue, and I arched against his hand.

He moved to the other, and then lower, over my ribs, kissing, his beard rasping on my stomach.

He let go of my wrists.

I speared my fingers through his hair and pushed.

"Go on."

"Bossy."

"Please."

"That's better."

He undid my jeans and peeled them off with my underwear, and kissed the inside of one knee.

The other, and the soft place where my thigh met my hip.

I was already dripping.

He put two fingers inside me and I stifled a cry, and he pressed the heel of his hand against my clit and rocked.

"Look at that," he said, hoarse. "Look how much you want it."

"I do."

"Tell me."

"I want you inside me."

"Tell me properly."

"I want your cock."

"Where?"

"In me. All of it. Now."

He took his fingers out and licked them clean, and the sight of it nearly finished me.

He shoved down his sweatpants, and I saw him, hard and straining, and my mouth watered.

He took one of my legs by the calf and lifted it onto his shoulder.

Then the other.

He leaned forward, folding me, until my knees pressed against my chest.

My ankles crossed behind his neck and my hips tilted up off the rug.

I was open to him, and bare, and trembling.

"Like that," I said. "Exactly like that."

He reached to line himself up, and I got there first.

I took him in my hand, hot and heavy and slick.

I dragged the head of him through my wetness, over my clit, round and round.

He shook above me.

"Tina. Don't."

"I'm not done."

"You're killing me."

"Beg."

"Please. Please let me in."

I guided him to my entrance and held him there, and watched his jaw lock, and let go of him.

He pushed in, slowly, with my knees pinned beside my ears, and I felt every inch of him fill me, deeper than before.

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