Worth It in the End

One day, as if she had telepathically read my disquietude, my mother called and imparted rather unsettling news.

I had been sitting on the couch with Stefan, watching mindless television while he gave me a toe-curling back massage. Just as the session was taking a more interesting turn, the telephone rang shrilly in its cradle. Stefan ignored it, continuing to kiss my neck with maddeningly light, teasing kisses that were well on their way to rendering me senseless. I heard the answering machine crackle, and my mother's voice filtered through the apartment.

"Hello honey, this is your mother. I know you're there. I really think you should pick up the phone..."

"Hello?" I said breathlessly, having just extricated myself from Stefan's arms. I pushed my hair into some semblance of order, as if my mother could see me. Looking at the couch, I shot an "I'm sorry" look at Stefan, who was left in a rather uncomfortable looking situation, judging by the bulge in his jeans. He just shrugged and turned his attention to the television, readjusting himself to cool off. We had been over this before. Mother panics when I don't pick up the phone. She just happens to call at rather... inopportune moments. "This had better be good mom."

"Oh it won't take but a minute, then you can go back to whatever nerdy things you were doing. Unless of course you finally got your nose out of a book long enough to get a man into your apartment..."

"Mom!"

"What! I'm just saying... oh, forget it. I was just calling to say that Gonzalo dropped by yesterday. He was looking for you."

This was rather unexpected news indeed. I sat down at the kitchen table.

"What? That's weird. He knows I don't live with you ..." of course. How silly of me. He also was well aware of how strongly my mother approved of our relationship... and how she wanted it to end up. In short, she wanted us to have a fairy-tale wedding and make lots of half-Hispanic babies. Let's just say she hasn't gotten over that rainbow-infused vision of the future, and Gonzalo knew that. The scumbag. I realized belatedly that my mother was still talking, and tuned back in.

"...and he was just telling me how badly he missed you and all. Honey, I think you ought to give him another chance. Everybody makes mist—"

"No mom. That's not a good enough reason. I hate that this is the way I have to tell you, but I did manage to get my nose out of a book long enough, thank you very much, and I'm very happy with the way my life is now. I most certainly do not need that cheating creep back!" I looked up, seeing Stefan in the kitchen doorway wearing a concerned expression. I rolled my eyes in response, indicating that I would tell him later. He didn't leave; instead he came over and continued to massage my shoulders. I touched one of his hands, grateful for his presence.

"I understand that what he did was wrong, honey—"

I interrupted her once more.

"I don't think you do. You're still enamored with the vision you had of little half-Hispanic babies running around for you to spoil."

"That may be... but still, he looked so sorry... that I told him..."

"What did you tell him, mother?" My tone was icy.

"Well, I told him that whoever he saw you with was not important and that I had spoken to you and I kind of assured him that you would take him back." She said in a rush. I felt like I had been stabbed.

"Mother, you crossed the line." I said, and hung up without another word.

After dropping the receiver onto the table, I leaned over and buried my head in my hands, heaving a great sigh.

"What did she say?" Stefan asked softly.

"Nothing surprising. She told me that Gonzalo came to visit her. Upon hearing his fabricated tale of how badly he missed me and how much it hurt to see me with someone else, she ensured him that I would take him back at a moment's notice."

"Well that's not that big a deal... you can reject him when he comes to collect his dues, if that's what you want." I ignored the implicit question.

"It's not that easy, Stefan. He's going to play dirty on this one. He still thinks I'm his, for all intents and purposes. You know how Latinos are..."

"I'd like him to try to take you away from me," he said, his touch becoming protective. I smiled. Sensing the relief of my tension, he leaned forward and touched his lips to my neck. Whether he wanted simply to assert his presence or continue the exchange on a more physical level, I didn't mind. "Now where were we?"

His hands moved from my shoulders down to my chest, cupping my breasts in his large, warm hands. The touch was so welcome after the stressful phone conversation that I couldn't hold back a moan. Stefan chuckled against my neck. "I agree," he said. He kneaded my breasts for a minute or two more, before sliding his hands down my stomach to latch onto the hem of my shirt. He pulled up, and I raised my arms obligingly. Soon, my shirt and bra were on the ground.

I stood up at that point, and wrapped my arms around Stefan's neck. I kissed him deeply, conveying my gratefulness to him nonverbally. Pulling away, I found the same sentiments reflected back to me in his eyes before he closed them again, drawing close to kiss me once more.

Before I could register the change in location, Stefan was laying me down on the couch. Without thinking, I opened my legs for him and groaned into his mouth as he nestled his hips just so between them. I could feel his hard cock pressing insistently against me, but he seemed determined to take it slow this time. Our tongues slid together languidly, our breath mingling hotly. I deeply enjoyed the pleasure of feeling his weight pressing me down into the soft sofa cushions in counterpoint with the wet, hot feeling of his mouth claiming mine. My arms wrapped themselves loosely about his neck, my fingers slid into his soft curls, enjoying their silkiness. His hands ran down the length of my body, stopping for a moment at my breasts, and then farther down to my hips, holding me still so that he could grind maddeningly against me.

Eventually, he lifted his mouth from mine and shifted his attentions to the left side of my jaw and neck. Upon reaching my ear, he took the lobe gently between his teeth and flicked the end with his tongue, sucking gently at the end. Releasing it, he breathed hot, moist air on my ear, causing an intense shudder to travel down my spine, making me wriggle beneath him. My movement against his hard cock caused him to gasp. I grinned at his response. Despite our mutually intense arousal, the pace remained slow. It was as thought both of us relished in the sensations of our bodies becoming more and more sexually aroused, masochistically enjoying the near-pain caused by the unfulfillment of actions.

Stefan eased his weight off of me and onto his knees as he moved his mouth down from my neck to my chest. He caught my right nipple in his mouth, and sucked it in deeply. My breath caught in my lungs as I arched my back to him, eager for him to take more of me into his hot mouth. He responded by sucking deeper, and raising his hand to caress my other breast, teasing the nipple just like his mouth was doing. My hips swiveled this way and that, desperately seeking the pressure my pussy sorely lacked. If he noticed, he didn't change anything about what he was doing. It seemed as though he wanted to drive me mad with wanting. He was well on his way to completing this end.

Releasing my breasts, he eased himself up until he was resting entirely on his knees, kneeling between my legs. Looking down at me in my wanton state, breasts wet from his mouth and hair all in a tussle, his face took on an almost arrogant look. He seemed to thoroughly enjoy his ability to render me senseless and writhing beneath him. His hands reached up to caress my breasts, and then slid down my quivering stomach to the hem of my jeans. He slid his fingers under the hem just enough to send my lower abdomen a-quiver at the need for his touch, making my pussy even wetter than before—if as much were possible. However, all he did was unbutton my jeans.

Throughout all of this, his eyes never left my face. I was certain now that he was carrying out his actions slowly in order to drive me completely mad, as he could surely read my desperate need of him on my face. The look in his eyes was unlike any expression I had seen there before. Sure, there was the predatory lust that overcame his features whenever we made love, but this time it was laced with something else—something deeper than just carnal hunger. However, in my lust-addled frame of mind, I found myself quite unable to put a finger on it. I abandoned the train of thought for the moment. My mind could handle one thing, and one thing only.

After unbuttoning my jeans, he proceeded to pull them off. I raised my hips to help him, and watched for the expression on his face as he discovered the thin, black, lacy underwear underneath. Regardless of the frayed state of my nerves, I was able to grin a bit at the sight.

At that moment, there were many things I could have said. However, instead of conveying to him how badly I wanted him at the moment, or how amazing he was, or how much I—dare I say it — loved him, I said, "Take off your shirt." He readily complied with this request, crossing his arms across his torso to pull the t-shirt he was wearing over his head. I delighted in the sight of his muscles flexing and stretching with the action. The light layer of hair that spanned his pectorals never ceased to catch my attention and make me want to touch him. Never had I seen a more manly or delectable sight. Involuntarily, I reached out a hand to touch his taught stomach. My action seemed to freeze him in place—his hands dropped to his sides and his eyes closed, as if he were reveling in the pleasure of my light touch. However, as my hand traveled downward to his pants, he snapped out of his trance. As his hand closed over mine, restraining any further advances, it became clear to me that he wished to be entirely in control. The look in his eyes hardened, silently reprimanding me for distracting him from his goal of rendering me a puddle of goo for his toying pleasure. And here I was, thinking he couldn't get any sexier.

"Not so fast, my dear," he said. His accented voice was impossibly low and husky. "I intend to have my way with you exactly how I want to. I intend to make you mine."

Needless to say, that shut me up—figuratively speaking, of course. There was no way in hell I could have formed a sensible sentence at that point in time. And with that statement, he leaned over me once more, capturing me with his gaze. My writhing had stopped for the moment as I was still recovering from the impact of his words. It wasn't until his chest hair brushed my breasts and I felt his hot breath on my lips that I came to.

The kiss we shared seemed to communicate the same emotion his eyes had before—except with the addition of the steeliness of his will, his desire to make me his. His tongue overpowered mine; his teeth bit my lower lip; his fingers dug into me, sure to leave a mark. I found myself whimpering at his actions. Never before had I made such sounds. His hand strayed down my body, coming to rest between my legs. At this, he emitted a deep groan, doubtlessly feeling the wetness that had pooled behind the thin lace of my undergarments.

"Oh my god... you're so wet... so hot... for me..." he panted brokenly.

His mouth abandoned the spine-melting kiss and continued its travels down my torso. I opened my eyes and looked down, seeing his brown curly mass of hair hovering above my stomach, his pink tongue darting out every now and then to tease my quivering abdomen. The sight was too sexy to handle. I put my hands on his head, attempting to push him farther down, but he resisted, making it perfectly clear that I could not rush him.

Eventually, his teasing mouth reached my pussy—unfortunately still clad in lace. To my surprise, he began laving my pussy through the lace, lapping up my juices as they seeped through the fabric. I emitted an inhuman noise as my pussy finally received the attention it had been sorely lacking. Planting one final kiss on my covered, sopping cunt, he sat back up and pulled my panties off. He took a couple moments to rake his gaze over my exposed body. Through heavily lidded eyes, I discerned a sizeable bulge beneath the fabric of his jeans. It pleased me to perceive that I wasn't the only one suffering through this deliciously torturing foreplay. However, he didn't seem to be inclined to alleviate his situation. Instead, he scooted further down the couch so that he was vis-à-vis my swollen pussy, looking at it like it was the most beautiful thing he'd seen.

I squealed at the first touch of his tongue on my cunt. He drew his tongue from the bottom to the top, stopping to suck on my clit in passing before repeating the move again. He seemed intent on exploring every fold and crevice of my sex before allowing me the oblivion of orgasm. My hips, at this point, could not keep still. He wrapped his arms around my ass and held me tight against his face, determined to have his way and his way only. After a few more minutes of torture—and my continuous moaning of his name and pleadings to let me cum—he finally centered his attention on my throbbing clit. He sucked it into his mouth, circling the sensitive nub deliciously with his tongue. My hands buried themselves in his hair, signaling him not to stop—this time, he did not resist. The sensations he was producing within me caused all vocal action on my part to cease—all I could do was remember to breathe, and breathe I did in harsh, rasping breaths. Suddenly, all I was aware of was a gentle but insistent sucking on my clit—only a few seconds of this and I was gone. I must admit that I can't be entirely responsible for the sounds I made while the orgasm ran its duration. Stars danced before my eyes and I could feel my pussy muscles clenching and releasing, pulsing in the ecstasy of release. Eventually—it could have been seconds or hours—he lifted his mouth from my soaking cunt, and kissed his way wetly up my torso once more.

He kissed me then, thrusting his tongue into my mouth, forcing me to taste myself on him. The flavor was incredibly erotic—I drank myself from him greedily. Then, he was gone.

"I can't bear this any longer—I must have you," he said harshly, standing up suddenly and unbuttoning his pants. My eyes soaked up the vision of him naked, olive-skinned and muscular. His cock stood out proudly from between his legs, the darkened hue of it evidenced his likely painful state of arousal. He didn't award me much time looking at his glorious body. Suddenly, he was back on top of me. Before I could register it, I felt the head of his cock pressing into my still-sensitive opening. I clutched his shoulders, digging my nails in and moaning my approval. He bit my neck and held on, breathing deeply through his nose. At that moment I became aware of how much self-restraint it had take on his part not to just grab me and fuck me like an animal ten minutes ago.

All thoughts, however, vacated my mind as his cock bottomed out in my pussy. He didn't stay still for long, though. Almost immediately, he began thrusting into me. The manner of his thrusts was still controlled, though the power of his strokes betrayed how badly he craved climax. Each time his cock hit bottom, he grunted into my ear. After a minute or so, I became aware the he was saying "Mine, mine, mine" over and over again, as though it were his mantra.

"Yes, Stefan," I panted out into his ear. One of my hands found its way to his hair, while the other went down to his ass. "I'm yours, I'm yours...fuck me ... "

And with that, he abandoned all pretenses of control. He let out a groan so primal, so sexy that it was all I could do not to cum on the spot. Clutching my hips, he proceeded to fuck me mercilessly, angling his strokes so that he hit my g-spot every time. When orgasm finally did come it slammed into me, surpassing the last one, which seemed hardly imaginable at the time. My entire body clenched up, my legs tightened around him, my toes curled, and I was surprised that I didn't draw blood with my nails. I daresay I screamed his name—loudly, at that. At the same time, the steady rhythm of his thrusts broke, and I felt his cum splash inside me, accompanied by harsh grunts into my ear. These, I recognized as my name.

Eventually I came down off of my orgasmic high. Stefan was slack and panting on top of me, his breathing bathing my shoulder in moist air. After a few minutes he brought himself up to rest on his elbows and looked into my eyes.

"Wow," I said. He grinned, his face still flushed from orgasm.

"I agree."

"If I knew Gonzalo's renewed advances would get this response, I would have made sure they happened sooner," I said, grinning at him in return.

"I just wanted to make sure..." he paused, an uncertain look passing over his heartbreakingly handsome features. I raised a hand to cup his face, and in response he turned slightly and kissed my palm.

"Make sure of what?" I asked softly.

"To make sure that you knew how I felt about you. I didn't quite know how to encompass it in words... so I thought I'd try actions. I could tell you were hesitant about trusting me, I know that asshole hurt you before. So... I hope I showed you that... I am entirely yours."

I looked deep into his eyes then, and saw that expression again. However, this time I was able to put a finger on it—it was love. The same love that reflected back at him from my own countenance.

"And I am yours—as you made sure of just now," I said, squeezing his ass affectionately. He blushed—bless him.

"I apologize if I was too rough."

"Stefan, the only thing you need to apologize for is not doing it again in the future," I said, and kissed his smiling lips.