She blinks.
Her reflection stares back — bent over, thighs tense, red dress hiked around her waist. Me, towering behind her, pants down just enough to expose the cut of my hips and the flex of my ass. And her body taking all of me while I grip her hips, like I’m holding onto a memory that may disappear if I let go.
A breath catches in her throat, her gaze in awe. She doesn’t look away.
“Good girl,” I praise, then move in slow, agonizing strokes. Deep and sensual. Her body clenches with every inch, and fuck if that doesn’t make my eyes roll back.
But soon, I lean over her, chest against her back, stubble grazing her neck as I nip her ear. “How many lucky guys got to fuck you, baby?”
She tenses. “What?”
“How many?” I breathe again, cock dragging slower as I wait for the answer. “Don’t lie. Bet they lined up for a taste once you started strutting around like a slut. That sexy new hair. This tight dress. The way you moved around those guys naked. You know what you are doing now.”
She looks over her shoulder, scowling, but I thrust deep and hard, knocking the air from her lungs.
I work her faster to calm that chaotic little mind. Her body melts onto the hood with each dig. She stops resisting, the shock slipping from her eyes.
She moans.
Beautiful.
I slow again, using her submission to my advantage. “Tell me, Charlotte. I won’t hold it against you. I just need to know.”
She pants, cheeks red and lips parted. Finally, she murmurs, “Nobody. I didn’t sleep with anyone. I couldn’t. I was just... too hurt to move on.”
My heart stutters from her confession.
That fucking loyalty. She had every reason to sleep around. And didn’t. All because of me.
I don’t deserve it. But I’ll take it.
“See?” I reply, brushing her hair from her face. “You went a year. So did I. I missed you too much.”
Her lashes flutter. Her jaw relaxes. She believes me.
And that trust... fuck, it makes my cock jump.
I slide a hand beneath her, my fingers finding that swollen bundle of nerves. I circle it slow, coaxing soft whimpers from her lips as I keep thrusting long, shaky, claiming strokes.
Her hips jerk in rhythm, rubbing against my hand, chasing the pleasure I’m giving her. She’s soaked. She’s close. And she still watches our reflection, her own eyes glassy, mouth open in surrender.
She looks wrecked. Beautifully wrecked.
Mine.
Fuck.
I tried to hold back.
But it’s over.
White-hot ecstasy shoots through my core as I release inside her pussy. Too soon, too hard. But it’s her. She’s just as sweet, submissive, sexy... she’s everything I remember.
I don’t pull out.
Can’t.
I stay buried, panting over her back, gripping her hips so tight my knuckles crack.
