“Let me in.” It is Rebound’s stern voice coming through the door’s intercom. It has been months, close to a year, since I’d last seen him. I press the button and wait as he climbs the stairs of my two-story walk up.
Despite having a connection to him I’d stopped seeing him after our second encounter. His romantic blues were bringing me down and the sex was lack luster with his constant need for cock approval, eye contact, and an unwillingness to choke me. Plus I was starting to take the lack of an orgasm on his part personally.
I hear Rebound from behind the door, working up to the knock, taking in deep breaths and releasing long sighs. The door opens to the fire-breathing, brooding romantic. He takes my face into his hands and kisses me with furor, passion, and a taste of hatred.
“Let me in.” He isn’t taking about my apartment anymore. His hands slid over my hips under my dress and I can feel the hesitated shock in his fingers when he realizes I’m not wearing any panties. He kicks the door shut.
We barely make it into the hallway before he presses me against the wall and I feel his cock inside me. “This is what I want,” he says in his stern intercom voice again. He fucks me hard just long enough to take my breath away before withdrawing completely and placing me back down on my feet. “That was foreplay.”
Did I just get raped? I didn’t say no. I didn’t want to say no. I am completely shocked by Rebound’s new… fucking style. “How is that foreplay?”
“You’re wet, aren’t you?” He throws back at me promptly, knowing the answer before hearing the question.
My face crumples. His forcefulness, quick wit, confidence makes my pussy constrict in want. Yes, I’m wet. I am dripping and I want more. “So, what’s after this?”
He pulls a rope out from behind him and clumsily ties my wrists together. “I broke up with my girlfriend.” I start to say my usual condolences but he stops me with a kiss, yanking my tied hands around his hard cock. “I,” he emphasizes “…broke up with her.”
I look up at him doe-eyed, or at least as innocently as I can, wetting my lips and parting them slowly, longingly. I don’t even care what happened I just want him to inside of me.
He lifts my hands to his chest with the rope while forcing me to bend at my waist so my lips and tongue can lubricate his dick. He keeps his palm on the back of my skull as he thrusts into my face. My mouth salivates more with each plunge until I feel a familiar warm spray.
I straighten up, wiping any droplets of cum from the corners of my mouth, eyeing the unknown expression in his eyes as well as his unwavering hard on. I peel the dress off over my head and throw it at him, backing up slowly in the direction of my bedroom. He imitates my actions first with his shoes, shirt, socks, jeans and boxers finally. Men undress not only more efficient than women but also sexier, slowly stretching and ripping seams as he pulls at the material to reveal the flesh underneath.
As my legs hit the bed’s footboard I sit gently onto the linen just as he reaches me, kissing me so softly I can barely feel him. His intensity has softened without his motivation. His kisses me, not like before, but so familiar and perfect. Holding me, his hot breath warming my skin, and that connection, that moment when you feel in love for the first occasion fills me. Time shifts, not stopping, but taking a moment just for us. I feel warm.
My eyes open to the morning sun and I can still feel his warmth around me. When did I go to sleep? I look over at nothingness; waking up alone in my bed the reality becomes a dream. I fight the memory from being a fleeting one, holding onto any detail before they vanished, but failing as the Sandman’s magical dust falls to the floor. Please go back to sleep. Go back to his arms, to the feeling, to that place where everything is wonderful.