I cut him off. “What ifs don’t help anything Axel.”
He snorts sarcastically. “They don’t.” His hand drops. “Jane returned my bike from impound, she’s working on Grayson’s car next. I’m going to take it on a long ride, clear my head. But neither of us blame you. Especially not you, Darius. You didn’t have a choice. But this is so fucked.” Axel tousles my hair and gets to his feet. “Just take care of each other. Relax. Grayson will be back soon, I’m sure of it.”
I don’t argue. I knew they wouldn’t be happy when we told them. Knew that Axel would regret letting me go. But we’ll make it past this.
Snuggling further into Darius, I continue breathing him in. “I’m sorry Darius. If anything, this was my fault. Not yours.”
His chest shakes, and for a second, I think he might be laughing, but then a sob breaks free.
It takes time but eventually he brings himself together, winds his pain back inside for it to rest.
He squeezes me tighter to him. “I don’t deserve you, but I’m a selfish man. You promise to never leave? To never go off and run face first into danger again?”
“I promise,” I murmur, shifting in his lap.
My thin shorts rub against his hardening cock. I am sore, aching from our recent encounter, but I need him.
It feels as if we are making up for lost time, as if our bodies are two forces drawn together. Existing independently but shoved together by outside forces.
The sun and the moon.
And I know with certainty that Darius is the sun.
Darius’s eyes darken with intent. “Sunday?”
Rolling my hips again as my answer.
He bends forward, reaching for the coffee table. Opening the drawer, he pulls out a condom.
“What the fuck, Axel?” Because I know it was him.
I know he scattered them across the house. I'm grateful but also mildly peeved.
Darius quirks his lips.
Shifting to my knees, he reaches between us tugging down his shorts. I expect him to pull mine off, but instead he pushes them to the side, and then he's sliding back into me.
Slowly, lethargically.
The first time taking Darius was nearly impossible.
The second time, even after the help from the shower and his fingers, was still difficult.
But this time? This time it is as if he is made for me.
A glove filled entirely with zero excess room.
And then his hands find my waist and he's tugging me down onto him as he snaps up. My knees dig into the corduroy couch, scraping against the fabric. My hands go to his shoulders, holding on as best I can.
And then my lips are on his, rolling myself onto him as I find my own pleasure. With my shorts pulled to the side, it is nearly impossible to reach my own clit, but then as he moves, my shorts drift across my clit causing bursts of ecstasy to amplify his cock as he continues to pump into me.
“Darius,” I groan into his mouth.
His name is a siren and it causes him to ramp up. To build speed and pressure.
My nerves are frayed, my mind a muddled mess, but my pleasure?
It is a growing ball of electricity deep in my gut, and it doesn't take much more before I am falling again.
