The second time

June had been at his place two nights before. He told me on the walk over, not as a confession. As news I like. She is thirty-eight. She had worn his shirt in the kitchen and she had been loud. I held his hand and got that hot, stupid drop low in my stomach, the one that is not jealousy. I asked what she sounded like. He did the impression badly. I laughed, and then I stopped laughing because I wanted his cock in my cunt.

At my door there was a box he had sent ahead. A thin gold chain. No note with a price on it. I do not want the price. I put it on before I took my coat off and looked at him like he had done something enormous, which he had, by thinking of me. He said I did not have to make a fuss. I said it is not a fuss. I love it. I love you. Both.

He bent me over the kitchen table with the chain on and my dress up. I was dripping before he fucked his cock into my cunt. I used to apologize for that. I do not, with him. He kept fucking me slow and told me how June had ridden his cock, the shirt open, her hands on his chest. I came the first time with my cheek on the wood, too fast, whimpering his name and then hers because he had put her name in my mouth. He did not chase it. He stayed deep in my cunt and let me shake, one hand spread on my back, the other petting my hip like keeping me was his idea. I said I can take more. I said please. The second one took longer and was worse, in the way I like, my legs going, the chain ticking the table every time he fucked my cunt. He asked where I wanted him to cum. In my cunt, I said, if you want that. I do not spend his choices for him. He did. I clutched the edge and thanked him while his cock was still pulsing.

After, he sat on the floor with me because my knees had quit, and he fed me peaches he had also brought, which I had not even seen. I asked if June was happy. He said she was. I said good, and I meant it, and I kissed the hand that had been in my hair. He ran a bath. I did not ask for the bath. I fell asleep against his chest in the water and woke to him rinsing the soap off my shoulder, careful, like I bruise if he is careless. I do. I love that he knows. I would not trade his other women for a quieter week. I like the week the way he actually lives it, and I like being the one he pampers when nobody told him to.