I didn’t get it and I had my mind on other, vastly more pleasant things, so I didn’t attempt to figure it out.

But I felt it.

Mickey knew what he wanted in bed. This was commanded sometimes verbally but mostly physically. He let me do things. He let me take things from him. But mostly he guided it and I followed his lead. He could get rough. He was strong enough to move me around, position me, so far as arrange me. We made love and there was always a sense of the tenderness to that, even when we were fucking.

Now, we were fucking.

But we were just fucking.

It was rough, fast, connected physically (obviously) yet disconnected emotionally, close and distant and there was something about it that was freeing at the same time vaguely alarming.

I couldn’t think on that either, whether it was good or bad how completely I was getting off on it.

I couldn’t think because I was close, reaching for it, when Mickey pulled out, flipped me, ran his hands up the backs of my thighs, positioning them up his chest. Then he clamped his fingers on my hips and reentered me.

I dug my heels into his shoulders and was powerless to do anything but watch his face, his eyes, hard and dark and stormy, as he fucked me.

He watched me too, his gaze moving over me, then he bent his neck and watched his cock thrust into me.

When he did, his hips started pistoning.

And when his hips did that, I lifted my arms up and pushed against the headboard so I could drive myself into his thrusts.

Digging my head in the pillows, eyes closed and focus entirely on taking his cock, loving what he was doing to me, I was losing it at the same time I was losing the disconnection and distance.

It again became Mickey and me connecting in every way this could be, becoming what was always but always perfect between Mickey and me, and I begged, “Yes, baby, fuck me.”

He fucked me harder.

“God, yes, Mickey. Fuck me,” I moaned.

I was there again, nearly soaring, when he pulled out and whipped me back around so I was on my belly. He lifted me up with an arm wrapped around the chest, walked us forward on our knees and let me go to grip me tight on the inside upper thighs at either side of my sex.

He pulled me up, I tilted my hips, he drove back in and I grasped onto the headboard with both hands.

He shifted a finger and tweaked my clit.

That was it, taking his cock, feeling that touch, experiencing the power of Mickey, my body started spasming as I cried, “Mickey!” and then I took flight.

His grunts filled the room as he went at me harder, faster, his finger still pressing my clit and rolling.