“I imagined everything with you, Jo,” he said around panting breaths. “This. Your body. Your beautiful pussy. But everything else too. All of it. Being with you, being yours. Imagining it is how I knew I wanted it so badly. Do you see? I needed to make it my reality.”
Jo didn’t respond. He lifted his head to gauge her reaction. She looked on the verge of tears—in a good way. She smiled, knit her brow together, brushed her fingers softly through his hair. “I’ll try not to disappoint you.”
“Never. You could never.” Felix kissed her and swallowed her moan as he sped up the rhythm of his thrusts. Talking had split his attention and kept him from coming, but the pressure in his balls was almost unbearable. He was beyond ready for the sweet relief that was so close. So fucking close.
Suddenly, Jo pushed his head back. Their lips parted with a loud smack. “Roll over.”
“Yeah.”
He hooked his hands under her shoulder blades as she tucked her knees and braced him with her calves. Together, they rolled until Felix was on his back, bracketed by her legs. Jo took up his rhythm. Riding him, fucking him, undoing him.
“Can’t make you do all the work,” she said. She bent over him until she hovered an inch above his nose. “This is how I imagined it. Me on top.”
“Fucking hell, Jo.” He clung to her hips and tossed his head to the side. He wanted to watch, but he couldn’t keep his eyes open because, fuck, he was about to explode. The thought barely entered his mind when the full force of his orgasm hit. Felix yelled Jo’s name again, pounded his fist into the mattress, curled up toward her as she kept fucking him. The pressure that had been building inside him for hours, for days, for weeks finally, finally unleashed in the most intense wave of pleasure he’d ever experienced. It was like a dam bursting. Like a tidal wave slamming against the beach. He’d never come so fucking hard, so fucking long, in his life.
He forced himself to take smooth breaths as he descended from his peak. He heard Jo breathing deeply along with him. She was still now, resting on top of him. Her hands were planted on his stomach, and her thumbs played with the trail of hair on his low belly.
Felix opened his eyes and saw Jo grinning from ear to ear. She was the most beautiful sight he’d ever beheld.
18
After they’d both used the bathroom and cleaned themselves up, Felix turned down the bed and nestled under the cool sheets with Jo in his arms. It was too early to sleep, so they lay there in silence, exchanging gentle, unhurried touches. Felix thought he could hold onto Jo forever and not tire of it. Her head on his shoulder, her hand caressing his chest, her breath warming his skin.
It was Felix who spoke first. “Is there something I can call you? Like sweetheart or honey or something?”
Jo’s fingers went still on his chest. “I’m sorry about that.”
“You don’t have to apologize. I’m sorry I called you something you don’t like.”
She didn’t respond.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” he said again and ran his hand over her back. “I shouldn’t have brought it up. We don’t have to talk about it now.”
“You’re good, Felix. I’m not upset,” she said. “It’s kind of embarrassing, is all. Why I don’t like ‘baby.’”
“I won’t laugh. But you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
The quiet stretched on long enough that Felix was sure the conversation was over. He was about to change the subject when Jo took the kind of deep breath one takes to steel themself.
“My ex,” she began, and dread washed over him. “He liked it when I played a character in bed. It was a joke at first. I came home from a con once in costume as a pixie character of mine. I flirted with him in character, and we ended up… anyway, he liked it, so I kept doing it.”
Jo gave a small, unconvincing laugh that cut Felix to the quick. She covered her face with her hand like she didn’t want him to see the way she blushed.
“He got tired of her and wanted me to make up a new character each time,” she continued, her voice meeker than Felix had ever heard it. “But he could never remember their names, so he called me ‘baby’ the whole time.”
“That sounds…” he said, searching for the right word, “dehumanizing.”
Jo looked at him with something like realization in her eyes. “Yeah. That’s exactly what it was.”
“He shouldn’t have done that to you.” Felix hoped he wasn’t telling her something she didn’t already know. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. Then her inner wrist. Then higher and higher, up to the crook of her elbow. “I don’t have to call you anything other than Jo if that’s what you prefer.”
She pressed her lips together thoughtfully. “You called me something in Spanish during the tornado. What was that?”
“I don’t know,” Felix admitted. “I don’t remember calling you anything.”
“I think it ended with -iño?”
He racked his brain, but only one word came to mind. The only reason he’d call her something that ended in -iño instead of -iña. “Cariño?”
Her eyes lit up with recognition. “Yes! What does that mean?”
“It’s like darling or sweetie,” he explained, a little breathless. Had he really called her that? “Cariño” wasn’t a term he used casually, or something he’d ever called a friend. It must have slipped out in the heat of the moment.
Jo gave him a warm smile. “I’d like that.”
“Cariño mío Jo,” Felix said, the words rolling off his tongue as if he’d been waiting his whole life to say them. He touched her cheek and drew her in. “I like it too.”
He kissed her, pulling her on top of him as he settled deeper into the pillows. Jo slid her knee between his legs and cuddled closer, her entire body flush with his. Her thigh brushed his dick, and he groaned.
She grinned. “Already up for round two?”
“Not yet, I’m afraid,” he chuckled. “Old man, remember?”
“Is that what I should call you?” she teased, kissing him again. “‘Old man?’”
“I’d prefer ‘hot librarian.’”
