Monica by CD Reiss

JONATHAN
    I brushed my thumb against her nipple, bending it, then I leaned down to suck it. She wove her fingers in my hair. I tasted the water of the shower on her, the tinge of soap on my tongue. Steam still fogged the room.
    “Jonathan,” she whispered. “I’ll miss the plane.”
    “No you won’t.”
    I drew my tongue down her belly, flat and tight, stopping at the navel bar she still wore for me, then down between her legs. I bent one of her knees and put it over my shoulder, giving my mouth access to her.
    “I haven’t packed yet,” she said, but I knew I had her. I opened her lips with my thumbs and licked her clit slowly, tip to hole and back again, tasting the fresh, clean skin and clear, rushing fluids.
    “Pack fast,” I said. She’d be gone for a week. I wanted her before she left.
    “I have to pack the Theramin and it’s oh, God,” she moaned when I sucked her, hitching her other leg over my shoulder. “Delicate. Jesus, what is with you lately?”
    I stood up and wiped my mouth with my hand. She sat spread eagled on the bathroom vanity, wet and ready. She was mine, and I loved her.
    “What’s with me lately?” I was in my underwear, which I didn’t bother taking off as I pulled my dick out. “Maybe I’m bored.”
    “You could work again.”
    “I could.”
    I slid in nice and easy.
    There was a feeling, as I fucked her on the vanity, that something wasn’t quite right. Something was missing. She was wet. I was hard. Her tits bounced when I thrust and there was enough nudity between us to get my dick inside her.
    But her arms. I didn’t know where they were going next. She moved in unexpected ways. I put my arms around her, holding her together and I leaned in close to kiss her, dragging my stubble on her cheek and the sensitive part of her neck. She whispered, ouch.
    I felt suddenly powerful. I’d been fucking her for months with this borrowed thing in my chest, but when she said ouch, I wanted to more than fuck her. I wanted to tear her apart.
    I lost my shit at the thought of it, coming in her the way I’d been since the hospital, without control or intent; just because I was ready.
    Monica came a second after I started, and we gripped each other, quivering. The steam had barely cleared the mirrors when I kissed her shoulder and realized I had a problem in my arms.
    ***
    I stretched out in the sun with my chest to the sky and felt that thing beating. The July heat baked me, muggy and sticky, sharing sweat with a stranger’s tissue, grateful to be alive, yet in a state of constant bewilderment, thinking, how the fuck was I pulled from death for this? I pondered it too often, and for too long.
    “Hey,” she said, stepping into my sunlight. She wore a pale blue dress and clunky bracelets. “I’m going.”
    I patted a place for her to sit next to me.
    “I can’t,” she said. “Lil’s waiting.”
    I flipped my sunglasses up so I could look her in the eye and with that gaze, let her know I was entitled to a minute of her time.
    “Goddess.”
    “I’ll call you when I land.” She bent to kiss me, and when her lips hit mine I held her head there an extra few seconds. She smiled and trotted away.
    I had a problem. She was going to Caracas for three days to open two shows with some madhouse band, and I wasn’t going with her by doctor’s orders. Not yet.
    The impulsive side of me wanted to follow her, and let the team of highly-paid specialists kiss my ass, but I stayed behind. There was no need to rush. Three more days wouldn’t change anything.
    When I’d met Monica, I’d known what I was. Who I was. I knew what I was made of and I knew how to get what I wanted. I’d still been in love with my idea of my ex wife, but my goddess had cured me of that.
    I thought being happy was what had made me demand control in the bedroom, but I was wrong, or at least only partly right. All the soul-searching in the world had led me to a false conclusion.
    I’d been dominant because I knew