Mads woke up before York did and propped her head up on her hand, supported by her elbow. York was laying on his back, and it humored her at how formal he looked even while he slept. The sheet stopped at his waist, his torso bare and exposed to her. She slowly traced her finger across the creases of his abdominal muscles then up to his chest. He twitched a little but did not wake up.
The fire was a smoldering pile of ash and embers. Another log and a few deep breaths could revive it with ease. It was plenty warm in the house however, so that was not needed. Looking down the line of her body to the fire, Mads bit her lip in a smile as she remembered last night. How the glow of the fire reflected off their bodies and made them both look to the other that they had been set ablaze.
It made her recall the situation she needed to take care of today. That was ingrained in her memory due to the feeling of York finishing into her like a shotgun shell. She closed her eyes and could almost feel the blast again. It was impossible to describe how good that felt.
Mads knew what came first on her list of priorities. Check on her father and see what she needed to do from there. Also, do not forget his book. Then she could take care of anything else.
It was hard to move though. Her thighs were still touching his, and his warmth was magnetic. She did not want to leave the bed at all, if he was still in it.
Mads continued to drag the blade of her finger across his torso, having fun making him twitch in his sleep. Finally, it was enough to pull him from slumber, and he reflectively grabbed her hand to make her stop. He turned to her and saw the expression on her face. Her lustful smirk and the eyes of someone who wanted more than they had already been given.
If a look could grant permission, Mads' eyes certainly did. She raised her eyebrows up once, then leveled them out again. Her eye lashes were like extended fingers curling toward the palm to draw someone closer. She slowly pulled the sheet down, grazing across her breasts, and stopped it when she felt it about to cross her nipples.
York moved his fingers, starting at her knee then moving up her thigh, then back down again. Mads took his hands and guided it back up to her waist and slid it down toward her pelvis. York rolled to his side, Mads to her back, and circled his finger around the opening of her vagina. Mads found his penis and began to work him.
The moment he plunged his finger inside of her, he also leaned down and kissed her neck. Mads released a soft coo and repeated the sound every time his lips parted and returned to her skin. He kissed up her neck and under her chin, until she lifted her head up and rotated it around his, allowing her lips to find his.
Mads gripped his cock firmer when they started to kiss, and felt it hardening. She could feel the moister from her pussy and sloppy sound of his finger entering and exiting at a high tempo. This was a good way to start a morning.
Mads opened her legs and he positioned himself between them, moving his hand out of the way and aiming the head of his dick. She let out a gasp that was silenced with his mouth, and felt his smooth, rhythmic movements.
It would be hard to reproduce last night. How liberating, yet scary and uncertain her confession was. York opening up to her, his vulnerability something she did not think he was capable of expressing until he did. The mood of nothing but their own self-generated heat and a fire to keep them warm. Then how it ended, and how it was her fault. She did not want to stop yet, because she was so close, and when it finally arrived, caused by his explosion inside of her, there were no words.
This sex felt just as intimate, but certainly not as steamy and passionate as last night. There was something cathartic about last night. They had let something out of their systems, and now they could just enjoy each other's company. Last night was therapeutic, but this morning felt natural. For the first time, them having sex did not have a sense of being novel or forbidden. It just felt normal. To Mads, having sex with a man felt normal now.
As much as Mads still liked women, even by all indication still preferred them, there was an itch in her that only a dick could scratch. It was not even itchy until she scratched, but like any itch, once you aggravate it, it becomes harder to ignore. York was hard to ignore.
Mads felt her first orgasm start to rise, and York acted appropriately. He knew her so well, he knew when she was nearing a climax. Her entire body would flex, her arms and legs trying to push themselves together. Her thighs pressing into him was a dead giveaway. In missionary she would typically hold his waist but would let it go to grab the sheets. If she was on top, she balanced by leaning over slightly with her hands on his chest, but when she was close she'd reverse and lean back, her palms on his lower thighs near the knees. In doggy she'd reach between her legs and begin to play with her clit if York was not already doing that.
York felt her thighs clench, her hands let him go to grip the sheet, and her mouth pull away to breathe properly. He smiled, because he knew and rolled into it. Stopping for a moment, he slid his arms and hands forward, then threw her legs high. He essentially bent her in half and dropped himself straight down into her. Mads went white knuckled on the sheet and screamed herself out of air. York lowered her back down and kissed her as she was reduced to her inhales making her voice crack.
They rolled to the other side of the bed, Mads now on top. His hands fondled her breasts, and she grabbed one and helped it squeeze, and the other played with her clit. York felt her thighs clench again, but she slowed down to draw it out for longer. York decided to let her do it. He could have easily dropped his hands, grabbed her sides, arched his butt up a little and rammed straight into her. However, he knew she liked to go her own pace when she was on top.
After Mads came again, York rolled them back, but she was more to her side. He held her left leg up and held it, using it to pull her toward him as he thrusted forward. Mads enjoyed the depth of the position and the firmness of the penetration. To put it simply, he could fuck the shit out of her from that position.
"Fuck me hard," Mads said to him, and York did not ask her if she was sure like he would have a month ago. "Don't stop until you come."
York checked his grip on her leg, then started to pound her as requested. Mads wanted to smother her mouth to not yell, but she also wanted York to hear what he was doing to her. Her screams echoed the room, the only thing as loud was the sound of his dick slamming into her pussy. After the first minute, Mads was reminded of his endurance. She had no voice left again and could only groan and whimper to express herself.
York felt her go numb, so adjusted her to her back and resumed a more relaxed pace. Mads pulled him into a kiss, and he could feel how labored her breath was. When he rested fully on top with her breasts pressed into his chest, he could feel her heart thumping against his.
"I said...don't...stop," Mads said between breaths.
"I prefer this," York said, kissing her again.
Mads also knew when York was about to orgasm. During blowjobs when he was standing up, his dick would begin to quickly contract. His torso would push forward, his feet would not move, and his shoulders would draw back, making his body form a large capital C. If he was laying down, it was largely the same, only she could feel his toes curl and he would let go of her head or hair if he was using it to pull her. During sex it was more pronounced. He would feel it, then his pace would slow to a crawl. If she was on top he'd even push up to slow her down.
York slowed his pace to a crawl, a few moments later he said he was close. Mads reconfirmed she was taking care of last night anyway. York used that as his permission to lock her lips and unleash himself inside of her. The concussion caused Mads legs to clench his thighs, so he knew the feeling was mutual.
