But even so, it’s still not as comfortable as I’d like it to be and of course, he knows that. And when has he ever let me suffer? Meaning, he has an idea to make it all easy for me.
I feel him jerking my tampon out before he slides his dick into my bleeding pussy. And oh my God, I come just from that. Just from that one stroke. The fist in my tummy that was tightening and tightening when I was sucking his cock unfurlsand I gush, moaning, jerking, writhing. And holy God, he usesthatas lube, my orgasm and my blood to then fuck me in the ass.
And I’m relaxed enough that I let him do it. I’m relaxed enough that I start to enjoy it and before long, I think he’s the one who’s should’ve put a gag in his mouth because he’s loud. He’s groaning and moaning and panting as he fucks me in the ass like he’s going to die. Like it feels so good, nothing can compare.
Iknownothing can because even though this may look like dirty, animalistic fucking, with me on my hands and knees, my dress flipped up and him behind me, banging into my body with vicious thrusts as a party rages on somewhere in the distance. But it’s more than that. It’s love making. It’s two people being as close to each other as they can be. It’s the coming together of two hearts and two souls.
With that thought, I come once again and as always, he follows me over the edge and climaxes with me.
Chapter Thirty-One
With his handsin the pockets of his sweatpants, he stands at the floor to ceiling window of my hotel room, looking over the city skyline. He has a light gray t-shirt on and his freshly showered hair’s dripping water on it, making the neck all damp. I don’t think he knows I’m watching him where I stand at the bathroom door, having taken a shower myself.
Just for the record, we didn’t take a shower together. After what happened at the maze, he carried me out in his arms while I almost dozed off against his hot, cozy chest. He drove me back to the hotel and escorted me back to my room before leaving me without a word. Although he did kiss me on the forehead, all light and soft, tender that made me weep in the shower.
I wanted to ask him where he was going and when he’d be back, but I didn’t. I was too afraid. While the big realization that I had at the party felt like a joyous moment, like all my dreams coming true, even the ones I didn’t dare think about, I’m thinking differently now. My adrenaline rush is gone, and I’m left shaking in its wake. It’s not going to be easy, making him see the truth but I have to try. I have to do more than try. I have to convince him. And the fact that he’s back gives me hope. At least,he’s not disappearing on me like he did after the first time we had sex. Progress.
“Hey,” I say, my voice soft, a little bit shy.
He stiffens at it, his shoulders going taut. I notice his jaw clenching in his profile and my heart starts to slam really hard in my chest. Yes, he may be here but that doesn’t mean he’s here to readily accept whatever I have to say. Still, I hold on to that little piece of hope.
He takes his time turning around, as if he doesn’t want to and when he does, my little hope only gets…littler. It’s nothing on his face per se. As in, he isn’t angry or something similar. He isn’t annoyed or irritated or any number of things. It’s the fact that he isn’tanything. He’s completely and absolutely expressionless and I don’t think it has happened before. Even when his expressions are a mystery to me, I still know something is happening beneath the surface. In this moment though, it seems like there is nothing. He’s empty. Hollow. He’s dead.
My heart starts to slam really,reallyhard in my chest. As if I’m compensating for his lack of heartbeats. And I take a step toward him. “Shepard?—”
And for the first time ever,ever, he takes a step back. “It’s over.”
I didn’t expect him to say that but still, I’m not surprised. And I don’t know what scares me more, my lack of surprise because I somehow knew this was going to happen and I was still holding onto false hope or him saying these strange words that I never thought he would. Not after everything. Not after I know this is not himat all.
“Why?” I ask, taking another step toward him.
He drops his stare to notice my movement before lifting his eyes. “Because you’re in too deep.”
I raise my eyebrows and keep walking toward him. “I’min too deep?”
His chest finally moves with a breath, and I see irritation flickering through his blank features. Good. I want him irritated. I want him angry. I want him alive and feeling and running on emotions, not the stone statue that he had somehow turned into.
Shifting on his feet, he says, “Yes, you are and it’s time you took a step back.”
“So this is for my benefit? You’re doing me a favor.”
He moves his jaw back and forth, his eyes belligerent. “Yes.”
“Why does it look like you’re dying then?” I ask because that’s the reason, isn’t it? That’s why he looks like that, all emptied out and hollow because he thinks he needs to do me a favor.
He sucks in a breath. “You need?—”
“And all of this because I let you fuck me in the ass and called you Sir?” I cut him off and snap, proud of myself that I didn’t let my voice crack. I didn’t let it show how those words affected me. I know I said it in a tone that makes everything sound casual and kinky fun. But it wasn’t that. It may have been kinky, but there was nothing casual about it.
It was meeting of our souls. It was our connection finally sliding into place. I’ve always wanted a connection with him, something that I made myself, not something thrust upon us by our dysfunctional parents. But even I couldn’t have imagined something so deep. So primal and raw. Visceral.
God, does he not see how lucky we are? How fortunate to have found each other in this world of billions of people. To not only have found each other but to also stand on the verge of something so big, a world full of possibilities and an even deeper connection. Apurposefulconnection where we’re both each other’s safe spaces. He gets to be whoever he wants to be and I let him. Where I behisin every way possible, mind, body, heart and he takes care of me.
Making it sound cheap cuts into my soul and squeezes my heart, but I have to do it. I have to jar him and I think I have. Because it takes him a second to recover from it. He draws back and his hands in his pockets curl into fists. I can clearly see the outline of them. Then, “Yes. It was all fun and games and you?—”
Coming to a halt a few feet away from him, I stab my finger at him. “Don’t you dare. Don’t youfucking dare, Shepard Thorne.” He grates his jaw, but I keep going, “Say what you will but if you insult what happened between us, if you try to twist it or poison it in any way, I will fucking scratch your eyes out. It was beautiful and you know it. It wasmeaningfuland you know that too.”
Finally, I see anger flickering through his features, hot and fuming. It makes his chest expand with a sharp breath, his jaw going back and forth before he growls, “I told you. I fuckingtoldyou. What this was supposed to be. What we were doing. I thought you understood. Jesus,fuck.” He shakes his head, finally ripping his hands out of his pockets and raking his fingers through his wet hair. I notice a tremor in them that makes my heart clench, despite my anger at him right now. Then, gripping his own hair in anger and frustration, he growls again, “Howthe fuckcould you let this happen? How the fuck could you fall in love with me andfucking fuckeverything up?”
