When You Come Back to Me (Lost Boys 2)

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“Yes,” he hissed. “God, yes…”

I slipped my fingers from his cock, down between his legs. Holden sagged against me, his breath coming in short pants, as I worked him open, loosening him for me.

“Now,” he gritted out when I moved two fingers in and out of him easily. “Please…”

He bent over the foot of the bed, his back rounded, muscles playing under perfect, smooth skin. His ass, round and taut, poised in front of me. Slowly, I pushed in, gripping his hips and pulling him on me at the same time.

“Ah God, yes,” he hissed. “More. Harder.”

I was in a delirium but hadn’t lost myself enough to be reckless. I couldn’t hurt him though I wanted to. Wanted to punish him.

Holden braced himself with both hands on the bed, rocking back into me. I reached around and gripped his cock, stroking him in time with my thrusts, creating a rhythm out of the chaotic lust and love that roiled in me like a tornado.

How was it possible to feel this broken and yet whole at the same time? To have my heart saturated in grief and love in equal parts. To have my body wracked by the greatest pleasure I’d ever known while pain gripped my soul. Wanting to hold on while saying goodbye. I fucked him because he was leaving. I fucked him to make him stay. I gripped his hips and used his body, driving against him, my own release ready to detonate.

Not yet…

I chased after it but I didn’t want it to come. I wanted to remain suspended in this mindless bliss with Holden’s body shuddering from the pleasure I gave him. To hold onto the night and make it stretch into forever. Because his absence in the morning was going to break me all over again.

And it was breaking him too.

Holden sank onto his stomach on the bed, and I braced myself over him, my chest to his back, wanting as much of his skin on mine as possible. We rocked together, our bodies sealed. His hand found mine and we locked fingers; I heard the shaky inhale of his breath. Hot tears trailed down his cheek and I kissed them away as I moved in him, our bodies in perfect harmony, giving and taking.

“Ah, God…” Holden gritted out. “River…”

“Come.”

I wanted him to come on my bed, in my sheets. It was dirty and raw, but I was going to sleep wrapped in everything that was him.

Holden tensed, his sharp cry cut off and his entire body went rigid except for my merciless thrusts that drove him back and forth, his cock trapped in the friction between his body and the bed. I kissed him between his shoulder blades, then bit back a harsh curse as my own release shuddered through me.

I sank against Holden, blanketing him, and we lay there for long moments, our breaths rising and falling together. But I was too heavy; I gently pulled out of him and slid to the mattress. I rolled to my side to dispose of the condom in the wastebasket and stayed there, my back to him. Drained. Ribbons of the orgasm still coursed through me and yet the terrible hollow grief sucked it all away.

The bed dipped and Holden’s warm skin met mine all along the length of us. His arm wrapped around me, his muscular legs tangled with mine. Our fingers twined and I held on, sinking too fast into sleep.

“Holden…”

“Shh,” he whispered, his breath hot against the back of my neck. “Sleep now, River.”

I fought it but the sleepless nights and overwhelming emotions of the last few weeks were driving me toward merciful oblivion. My eyes wouldn’t stay open. All I could do was cling to him, relish the feel of him in these last moments.

Just before the black came, his chest expanded against my back and his breath wafted warmly over my neck.

“I love you.”

But he was gone in the morning. The bed empty and cold, so maybe I only dreamed it.

Chapter Twenty-Five

The first rays of light were filtering in through the window when I carefully disentangled myself from River. The cold air swooped in where our skin was no longer touching.

I dressed quietly, wincing at every sound yet wishing he would wake. If he opened his eyes and asked me to stay, I might.

But River slept on, heavy and sated from last night. I’d felt the power in him as he gripped me, moved in me, his release shuddering through both of us. But the man refused to simply fuck. Because River was River, his love for me had seeped through every touch until I’d sunk under the weight of it.

When I was dressed, I stood on his side of the bed.