A room comes with a cost - Part 3 - Sexgeschichten

A room comes with a cost - Part 3

... giving space, the focus on me, not him.

"Want me to stop? Or... more? Gentle's what you say."

"More," I whispered, the word slipping easy now, my hand unclenching his shirt to slide up his chest... fingers splaying over his heart, feeling the thud sync with mine, steady and real.

No sass. No fight. Just lean... into him, into the hold, his palm on my ass kneading soft now, easing the throb without slapping, the other hand tracing my collarbone to my shoulder, massaging the knot there with thumbs that dug just enough to melt, not bruise.

Gentle.

His lips brushed my temple... not a kiss, a graze... warm breath whispering as I melted further, body unwinding under the touches, the fear ebbing to a hum, the heat a warm glow, not a blaze.

Then I felt it. The orgasm came gently, like a wave on the beach. Like water gently washing over your feet. My fist clenched his shirt and I moaned deep from my chore.

We stayed like that... minutes blurring, his hands mapping gentle: Back, shoulders, thighs. Just soothing the wreckage, his forehead to mine, breaths mingling slow. No edge. No beg. Just held... seen, scared and all.

The clock on my nightstand ticked past ten when he pulled back... slow, reluctant, hands lingering a beat on my shoulders before dropping.

"Rest," he murmured, standing fluid, eyes holding mine one last time... no smirk, just that quiet intensity.

"Door's open. For real."

The door clicked soft behind him, leaving me bare and breathed, the warmth lingering like a promise. Gentle. His word, his touch. The slut? She quieted, for now.

And me? I'd script it. Fight it. Own it.