#Chapter 113 - Confessions

Christian and I fuck…for hours. Or, well, is that even the right term? Because some of it is fucking, surely – the times when he pounds himself so hard into me that the bed shakes, that I grip the blankets and raise my hips to him, wanting to take him deeper and deeper until I can’t take anymore. But other parts – god, other parts are so sweet, and so tender. The way Christian cups my cheek as he presses into me – how he tucks his head down against my shoulder and presses a kiss there, his arms wrapped around me like I’m the most beautiful and precious thing he’s ever found. The way he kisses me so softly that I feel that I could happily stay in his arms forever because there is so much more life here in this bed than I’ve ever experienced, ever, anywhere. We fall asleep eventually, of course, completely exhausted. But even in my sleep I find myself wound around him, not wanting to let him go, wanting to feel the weight of him pressing down into me all night long. So, when my eyes