I’m pressing against him, trying to grind against him. This isn’t me. But he does something to me. Makes me something different. Makes me someone I don’t recognize.

“Fucking say it.”

“Make me come. Please!” I want him, and I can’t get close enough. I want to be filled up by him. Possessed by him. Fucking owned by him.

“Good girl,” he says, kissing me, grinning wide, drawing farther out than before and thrusting so hard, I cry out. “Come, Natalie. Come on my dick. Come all over me.”

That’s all it takes, his command, his cock inside me, his eyes on me, watching me, seeing me, seeing me splinter and break. Seeing everything.

I squeeze my eyes shut and I come. I come so fucking hard I can’t breathe, I can’t think, and if he didn’t have me, I wouldn’t be able to stand. It’s like an explosion, orgasm claiming my body as Sergio claims my everything, and when I feel him come, when I feel him throb inside me, feel him release inside me, I open my eyes and I watch him, clinging to him, wanting him, wanting it all.

My hands wrap around his shoulders, nails digging into his shirt, his back and he’s coming inside me and I’ve never seen a more beautiful sight than Sergio’s glistening midnight eyes. Sergio lost in bliss. In ecstasy.

I adjust the crotch of my panties, straighten my skirt.

“We should have used a condom,” I say, because in my head, I’m counting days.

“I like coming inside you. I like knowing part of me is inside you.” He zips and buttons his pants and buckles his belt.

“Sergio—”

“I’m clean, Natalie,” he says.

“I’m clean too, but there are other things.”

He seems surprised for the first time since I’ve known him. “You’re not protected?”

I shake my head.

“Where are you—”

“I should be okay.” I think. My period ended eight days ago. I still have a few days. “But we can’t do that again. I mean without a condom.”

He’s deep in thought, suddenly. Not angry, just concentrated. Like something’s just occurred to him. Something he’s never thought of before. It’s strange, the look in his eye. Unsettling.

“Our conversation isn’t over,” I say, simply to break into whatever is happening in his head.

“It’s not?”

“You can’t just hurt people in the name of protecting me.”

He walks into the kitchen. “That prick deserved to be punished.”