Predictably, I start getting antsy, but I don’t want to disturb our fragile détente. I breathe smoothly and slowly, trying to expel the tension from my body. I roll my neck around, which helps. My leg is falling asleep, but I don’t want to move it because it’ll disturb Onyx. Rembrandt’s breathing slows down, and when I peek at him, I notice that he’s fallen asleep. He and Ginger are snoring in a compatible rhythm, and I wish I could join him in la-la land. I put Onyx on Rembrandt’s lap next to Ginger and move Jet’s paws off my thighs and onto the couch. I ease away from Rembrandt without waking him, then go outside to smoke. I’m not pleased with the way our conversation went, even though Rembrandt was more gracious than I had any right to expect him to be. What I wanted was for him to say he was fine with us being open, but I knew that was unrealistic before I even brought up the subject. I also know he won’t be happy that I left the couch, but what does he expect? For me to sit around meekly waiting for him to wake up? I’m working myself into a snit, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I know it’s because I’m panicking at the commitment I’ve made to Rembrandt, as limited as it is.
“Hi, honey,” Rembrandt says, putting his arm around my waist. “It’s a bracing night, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I say leaning back against him. He puts his arms around me and holds me close. I can feel his heart beating against my back, and it’s strangely comforting. He doesn’t say anything, and neither do I. I can feel the tension draining out of me as all the strawman arguments I had created in my brain melt away. Rembrandt is such a sweetheart, and any woman would be happy to have him doting on her. What the fuck is wrong with me? Maybe I shouldn’t even be dating if I’m dithering this much about having a wonderful man care so much about me. I push the thoughts to the back of my mind and try to stay in the moment.
“Can I stay the night?” Rembrandt asks, his voice tentative. I can feel his cock digging into my ass, and my body responds accordingly.
“Yes.” I turn to face Rembrandt, kissing him hard on his lips. He grabs my head and kisses me in return. There’s a fierceness to his kiss, and I know I’m in for a night of raw sex, which is fine with me. Sometimes, I want slow and gentle loving, but other times, I just want to be fucked. That’s what I want now, and Rembrandt is more than willing to oblige. We race upstairs, tearing off each other’s clothes as we go. By the time we reach my bedroom and close the door on three inquisitive cat noses, we’re naked. We hit the bed with a thud, and there’s little conversation between us. We’re totally focused on the business at hand, and I’m more than ready to fuck him. Normally, I like a fair amount of foreplay, but not tonight. I want his cock in me as soon as possible, and I push on his arm to indicate it’s time. He rolls a condom down his erect cock and thrusts all the way into me in one go. I bite down on his shoulder, leaving a distinct bite mark. He returns the favor on the back of my neck, and I moan in pleasure. I turn us over so I’m on top. I’m in the mood to ride him, and ride him I do. I slam myself down on his cock, clenching around him with my muscles as I do. He has his hands on my hips, but he’s letting me set the pace. I lean forward and kiss him on the lips. He bites my lip, and I bite his in return. Then, he grabs one tit in his hand while sucking on the other nipple. I know I’m close, so I speed up. I need to come now, no delayed gratification for me. My orgasm hits me in an explosion, and Rembrandt isn’t far behind. I’m screaming something as I come, but I’m not sure what. Once I’m done, I collapse on him. I have no energy or strength, not even to roll off of him.
“Girl,” Rembrandt croaks, his voice hoarse. I don’t know why as he didn’t say much as we were fucking, but I dismiss it as not important. After a few seconds, I flop onto the bed, a silly grin on my face. I hear the cats meowing to be let in, but I can’t make my legs work. Rembrandt rolls himself off the bed, staggers to the door, and lets them in. They scold him as they jump onto the bed, smack dab in the middle. The three of them twine around each other and promptly fall asleep. Rembrandt laughs and lies next to them. They are between us, acting as a barrier. I want to cuddle, so I move them, one by one, to my other side. Predictably, they don’t approve of that, but they begrudgingly comply. I scootch over to Rembrandt. He puts his arm around me and falls asleep. I’m content to lie in his arm for several minutes before I need to move again. I slip out from under his arm and go to the bathroom. I take a quick shower to wash away the sex funk, and it feels good. As much as I like sex, I don’t like to wallow in the fluids. When I whisk back the curtain, I see my cats staring back at me. I assume Ginger is still with Rembrandt, which is fine by me. I go down to the living room to check on my blog. I’m still receiving comments on my post on families, and I know it’s time to write my next post. I decide it’s going to be on sex.