And I could. All it took was facing my demons in a three-minute phone call.

Keller anchors his feet on my bed, and lifts his hips, up and down, fucking me from underneath, his rhythm increasing in an unending crescendo. I hold on for dear life, my arms wrapping around his shoulders, my body doing its best to meet his, but I only match one thrust for every two or three of his, bouncing up and down with increasing desperation.

This is nothing like what I’ve experienced before. Sure, his penetration has always felt good, and my ignited core was appeased by the growing pressure and my orgasms, but this time, he seems to be smashing right into that core, each abrupt move of his cock drilling right at the core of the tense, molten need. I sob out nonsense, sucking in as much air as I can, feeling like I could die.

And then, Keller inverts us, pinning me under him, fucking me into the mattress. Legs in the air, all my muscles on fire, sweating, begging, I’ve lost sight of who and what I am past this. Nothing else matters.

“—so good,” I hear over my whines. “You feel so fucking perfect. My beautiful Claire. Just hold it a little longer. I won’t last. Fuck!”

His cock feels bigger inside me, each thrust making my eyes roll back in my skull.

His hands are everywhere. Cupping my breasts, my face, sliding along my legs. His mouth finds mine, swallowing my nonsensical series of pleas and pants.

“Now. Come with me now,” he demands, thumb finding my clit, and pinching it with that one last thrust that undoes the coiling nerves inside me.

All my body goes limp. I can’t think. The thought of moving is laughable.

Keller collapses on top of me, keeping his weight on his arms, either side of me.

His mouth finds the side of my face. “Damn, Claire. Give a man a warning.”

I manage a chuckle. “You never warn me.”

“You really did it. Got rid of the deadweight.”

That makes me grin. “So, do I upgrade from cum dumpster? What’s the next label?”

“What label do you want? Your call.”

I look up, taken aback. “I get to pick, huh?”

“Yep. Doesn’t matter what you call yourself. I know what you are.”

“And what’s that?” I’d bristle if I wasn’t this relaxed.

“Mine,” Keller retorts, rolling on top of me again, his lips falling on my knees, shoulders parting my exhausted limps.

“Already?”

“Oh yeah.” His cock’s back at my entrance, just as hard as usual.

“My poor pussy,” I complain halfheartedly. “I’d run away if I had the energy.”