I’ve never fucked with the lights on before. I’ve never fucked like this, faces inches apart, eyes wide open, the room filled with the sounds of our fucking, with the smell of it. Sergio’s elbows close around my arms and he holds my face and he kisses me, just barely taking my lip between his before releasing it, neither of us blinking, not once. Our breathing is shallow, just gulps of air.

He makes a sound, something from deep in his chest, it’s raw and base and I feel him thicken even more and I’m going to come. I’m going to come again and when he thrusts one final time, watching me, letting me watch him, I do. As he throbs inside me and I feel him come, I come too and everything about this moment feels so right. So fucking perfect.

And it scares the fucking shit out of me.

I close my eyes and feel, lose myself in sensation, in ecstasy. And when it’s done, I’m spent. Empty and weightless. I blink my eyes open to find Sergio’s still on me. His expression is strange, unreadable and I don’t realize I’m crying until he touches his thumb to my face, wipes away a tear, smears it across my cheek.

He did that the first night too. At the warehouse. It’s like he’s mesmerized by my tears.

It’s quiet, absolutely still, and he’s still between my legs, still inside me. Still looking at me.

“Did I hurt you?”

I give my head a shake. It’s all I can manage because right now, I can’t speak. Can’t form words.

But it’s not that. He didn’t hurt me. It was perfect. Right.

And too much.

He gets up, walks into the bathroom. I hear the water go on a few minutes later and he comes back wiping his hands on a towel. I draw the blanket over myself and sit up as he gets dressed. He looks at me all the while.

“You can stay. It’s late.”

He shakes his head and I can see from his expression he has something on his mind. “Why were you crying?” he asks, putting on his shoes before coming to sit on the edge of the bed.

“It’s just a lot.” I shake it off. I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t even think I can, not until I figure out what the hell is going on inside my head.

He studies me a little while longer, then stands, lays me down, takes the blankets and draws them up to my chin. He leans down and kisses my forehead before walking to the door.

“Why were you upset when you got here?” I ask when he reaches to switch off the lights.