What! What's he–
I grasp when he plunges into me again. He captures my lower lip between his, then suckles gently, muffling my moan as the weight and heat of his naked body comes down on me. His pins my arms, as he dives deeper and deeper and faster.
"Not too tight!" he barks in my ear, then adds, "I don't want to finish yet."
Slowing down, he holds me hostage on the edge of ecstasy. I feel every inch of his pulsing hardness, as if it's the first time I've truly felt him this intimately. Breathing is all I can do to stay anchored to my body, before he drags me away again, making me feel like I'm falling into myself.
I want to resist the impending suffocating waves of pleasure to understand his emotions, but he won't let me. With every thrust, he smashes against me—both inside and out—forcing my head to roll back. I can't ignore the pleasure he insists on giving.
Then he stops right as I'm about to climax. "Nnnn... my love—plea–" I begin to beg, but his fingers only tighten around my arms as he stays still, pinning me down as much by the tip of his hardness against the wall of my insides as by the weight and heat of his body.
"No. Do you know what you've done?" he roars, his words crashing onto my lips before he gently caresses them. His accusation feels like resentment—but there's something else, another shade of that same bitterness. It blends with the gnawing longing in his kiss, leaving my mind spinning. My body shivers as my insides continue to dance around him. "Before you, any woman could satisfy me. They'd let me do whatever I wanted to them," he says through gritted teeth. "Now... only you can."
My nipples pebble, sensitive to the faintest touch, while my core throbs, aching against his, making me even more desperate. My legs tremble uncontrollably as they tighten around him, pulling him closer, every nerve in my body screaming for more. His nose presses against my neck as he takes in a long, deep breath, breathing me in. His tongue glides along the length of my neck, and then his teeth sink in—not hard, like when he's angry. He replaces the brisk bite with gentle suckling, then drag his teeth over the sensitive skin with his pressurized sucking then repeats it, drawing out the moment until my aching need for him hurts. The hickey mark will be evidence for the next five to ten days. He's punishing me for what I do not understand. But this is his resentment expressed.
"Please my love–" I plead into his hair.
His body rigidly tensed, his head flops down, his face burying into the curve of my nape. His grip tightens on my arms, and he becomes perfectly still. The moment stretches, his posture resembles defeat. His breath comes shallow and uneven against my neck, and for a moment, he feels less like the man who held me down and more like someone battling his own mind. I don't know what war he's fighting, but it feels like he's losing—yet he won't let me in to help.
I sink my teeth into my lower lip, a futile attempt to stifle my moan as as his hardness swelling, pulsing and throbbing faster and harder with every relentless beat inside me. "Damn it!" His whispered curse lands on my collarbone as he begins to pound into me. His body jolts into motion, moving with the force of everything he's been holding back. For the first time, his eyes are closed, his face twisted in a painful expression. Stars explode behind my eyes. My arms go numb, the blood flow cut off by his unyielding grip. As I scream through my orgasm, hot liquid erupts inside me, and he quivers on top of me. The moment his body steadies, he pulls out and shifts us so I'm on top of him, his arms locking me in place.
I wait for my mind to settle while my body is limp from the avalanche of sensations. His heart is hammering in my ear.
"What's this new scent?" he asks through heavy breathing, but his tone still has that lingering resentment that I don't understand.
I barely get enough air but he needs an answer. "I wore Anat's deodorant because I was at her place before we went to Beth's–"
"I don't like it. Don't cover up your natural scent."
"I'm sorry, I forgot to use the crystal salt–"
"Don't wear clothes in bed again."
"I wouldn't if–" I say as I prop my head up to him.
"Don't move."
I rest my head back onto his heaving chest and stay still. What is he resenting? Is he venting his feelings onto me, or are these his feelings for me? His low snores, the rise and fall of his calming chest, and the loosening of his arms around me signal that he's drifting off to sleep. So I stay still a little longer, waiting for him to fall deeper into slumber before I can safely disengage myself without waking him.
A quiet elation flows through my soul. I realize why his anger turns me on. He seems to desire me no matter how he feels—whether he's angry, resentful, or desperate. His happiness is sensual, affectionate, and lingering. His anger is fast and rough. His desperation is clingy and urgent. His resentment is punishing, laden with restraints. His jealousy is a volatile mix of desperation, anger, and outbursts. I might worry that this is his emotional dumping onto me, except... it's too fun and addictingly orgasmic. I should lean deeper into it, but there'll be plenty of time for that after we end.
He desires me the way I love him. I love him even when I'm mad at him—or when he makes me sad—and especially when I don't understand him. I wonder what his other emotions will feel like.