Deep(49)
Nick was big, bigger than she’d been prepared for, and the stretch and sting was at first intense. And then he thrust again, harder, grunting. And then he seemed to lose all control. With one arm around her leg and the other shoved under her back, he dropped his head to her shoulder and just fucked her, wildly, fiercely, rapidly. Punctuating every brutal thrust with a violent, growling grunt in her ear, he slammed into her again and again and again.
At first, Bev was afraid—it was far more intense than any sexual experience she’d ever had, and she could feel that it was more than physical need, somehow. There was something dark and dangerous in his wild abandon, something that she knew, that she could sense, transcended his assertion that he was not a gentle lover.
But her fear was quickly overtaken and silenced by her own need. He felt so good. His body on hers, in hers, felt incredible; his need of her, wild and consuming, suffused every physical sensation with emotion and intensified it all. Soon she was grunting with him, bringing her free leg up and around his waist, closing her fists in his hair, biting down on his shoulder as the waves of ecstatic frenzy rose and rose inside her until they crashed, and she threw her head back and cried out.
His thrusts continued their frantic pace for long afterward, extending her release until her body was a quivering, over-stimulated, exhausted mass, and then his pace changed, became syncopated, and he went still, with one last, anguished grunt that went on and on.
All at once, he relaxed, his full weight coming down onto her for the first time. Her need sated, her release achieved—and his, too—the complaints of Bev’s still-healing body began to clamor. She withstood for as long as possible, loving and wanting this supreme closeness, but she couldn’t breathe, and the pain grew until she thought she’d cry.
“Nick,” she whispered, trying not to sound distressed. He didn’t respond. “Nick, my chest.”
Her words took a beat to sink in, but then he said, “Fuck,” and pulled away—and then all the way up, out of her, off the bed. He grabbed his track pants off the floor of her bedroom and pulled them on, then left the room completely.
Bev lay there, stunned. She watched, too shocked to feel anything else, as he walked down her short hallway to the living room. Expecting him to leave, she felt a surge of relief when he went to her sofa and sat down. Then he put his elbows on his knees and rested his head in his hands.
She sat up and watched him for a minute or two. He didn’t move. So she got up and went to him.
When she sat next to him, one leg tucked under so she could face him, he didn’t react. She scooted closer and kissed his shoulder. Keeping her voice calm and soft, feeling like she was trying to soothe a wild animal, she asked, “What’s wrong?”
He lifted his head and dropped his hands, letting them dangle between his thighs. But he didn’t look at her. “I’ll send someone to the drugstore when it opens.”
She hadn’t expected him to say anything like that. “What?”
He turned his head slightly, but still not enough to make eye contact. “I didn’t use a condom.”
“Oh!” She let that sink in some more. “Oh! No—it’s okay. I’m on the Pill. And I’m healthy. If you are, then it’s okay.” She had no concerns about his health. Maybe that was stupidly trusting, but she simply felt sure he was healthy.
Now he looked at her. “You didn’t think that was something I should know?”
“Well, yeah. Of course. But I don’t know…it’s a weird thing to just bring up out of the blue, you know? Usually I use condoms anyway until I’m serious with a guy. When I know it’s safe. But it’s okay—I’m not worried.” A tiny nit of worry goosed her then. “Should I be?”
The corner of his mouth lifted in a barely-smile. “No.” Now that his eyes were on her, he studied her, that small smile gone. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”
She smiled brightly, teasing, trying to lighten his mood a little. “I thought you didn’t have regrets.”
His only answer was a short, audible exhale, the stunted syllable of a mirthless laugh.
She kissed his shoulder again. “That was the best sex I’ve ever had in my life. My ribs happily suffered a moment’s discomfort for it. But something’s wrong, Nick. Will you tell me? Can you?”
He pushed his hand into her hair, cradling the side of her head. His eyes, once they’d met hers, had not left. “Brian died today.”
“Oh, no. Oh, my God.” He hadn’t told her much about his life yet, but he’d talked about Brian several times. She’d met him at Neon, of course. He had saved her and Nick both that night. He was Nick’s best friend. “I’m so sorry.”