The Convict

Slipping and Sliding

"Oh Dakota," I moaned as my body slipped up and down the wall, rubbing on her leg.

She kissed my neck, sucking the skin roughly into her mouth.

"Fuck, be careful. I don't want her to see," despite that, I held her head onto my neck.

I texted BB that I was running behind, that I needed to take a shower to wash all the paint off, and that I'd be home later. She said okay and that she'd get dinner ready. After that, it was all rules out the window for me and Dakota.

She had me out of my clothes in no time, slamming against every wall as she reclaims me as hers.

For once every part of me agreed again, I want this. God do I want this. I want her. No one can love on me like Dakota can. BB is good in bed, don't get me wrong, but Dakota, god damn Dakota, she just has a certain finesse. The way she handles me is both rough and sexy, yet passionate and delicate all at once. I can tell she loves me by her movements and how she treats and holds my body against hers.

I'm sorry BB, but no one can make love to me like Dakota can.

It's one of the things I missed most about her, one of the things I craved. I even told that to my therapist who tried to convince me that I would find that magic touch again one day. But I don't believe him. That's why the letters to Dakota slowly dissolved into love letters and sex letters because out of all the things I miss about Dakota, I miss her naked body against mine, the most. Dakota knows that and she used my weakness against me.

"Dakota!" I cry out loudly as I reach my first orgasm.

She picked me up in her arms as if I weighed less than nothing and carried me into the room, slamming me down on the bed.

"More," I beg.

She smashes her lips against mine before interlocking our legs.

I throw my head back in ecstasy.

Dakota and I used to make love all the damn time. In fact, that's what we did 70% of the time I was locked up with her. With the lockdown and her being home all the time, we couldn't help it. I was addicted to her. She was the only thing that could make me feel good back then.

Some days we wouldn't do anything at all other than having sex.

Fucking hell, I missed her body. I missed her kisses. Missed the sounds of her moans. I meant every word I wrote to her in my letters. By the way she is making love to me, I can tell she meant every word too.

"Oh Dakota, I'm almost there!" I cry out.

"Melony, fuck, you are so hot. Oh fuck," she grinds her hips deeper into me.

"Ah!" my back arches off the bed as I reach my second orgasm.

Her body shudders as she reaches her first.

We take a moment to catch our breath. I know I should stop, get dressed, and go home. Otherwise, I'll end up making love to her all night long. Just like we used to.

She drops my leg and crawls on top of me, I wrap my arms around her and we kiss. Deep, passionate, kisses.

"Dakota," I say between kisses. "I have to go."

"No," she growls. "You belong to me."

I get goosebumps.

"If she comes here and finds you, I'll never be able to make love to you again," I remind her.

She growls, actually growls, like some type of animal. Obviously not happy with those words. We pull apart to catch our breath once more.

"It's been so long," she rests her forehead against mine.