“What?”
“Never with Corey.”
“No.”
“Anyone else?”
“No.”
He sighs. “Oh, Ty.”
“What?”
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
I’m crushed. “Then let me up,” I say. I need to leave. I need to run. I need to run so bad. I struggle, but it’s no use.
“No,” he says. “You didn’t hear me right. Open your eyes.”
I can’t.
“Ty,” he says. “For me.”
For him, I’d do anything. Even this.
I open my eyes.
He watches me with such wonder. Such hunger. Such… love? I think it might be. Whatever it is, it’s for me. It’s all for me. “You didn’t let me finish,” he says quietly. He kisses me again. “I’m not going to hurt you. We’re going to go slow. Take our time. Okay?”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
“Say it.”
My voice sounds like his when I say, “Okay.”
My shirt is gone and then his is gone and he lies against me, and the weight of him is crushing, but it holds me down, holds me in place, and his mouth is on mine, over mine. My chin. My neck. My shoulders. He kisses my chest, and I breathe and breathe.
He takes his time. He goes slow. When he takes me in his mouth, I feel like fire and I cry out, dig my fingers into his hair and scalp, and he does things that I didn’t think were possible. I say his name, and he says, “Oh, Ty,” and can it be this good? Can it be like this? How did I never know? How did I never know it could be like this?
It hurts, later. I never thought I’d experience such pain. I cry out as my eyes water and tears trickle down my cheeks. I press my hand against his chest and say wait. He does, from his perch above me, sweat dripping from his nose onto my chest. He leans down and kisses me again, and I lift my legs around his waist. I can’t believe how full I feel and it burns as I’m stretched to the point where I think I’m going to be torn apart. I’m about to tell him, No, I can’t do this, not yet, but something gives. Something gives and I nod, and he pushes forward and the stars, my God, the stars that come then explode and I chant his name, I scream his name. He snaps his hips again and again, and it still hurts, but I’m riding on waves above the pain, in the ocean, and there are earthquakes, but they’re so, so good, and when he sighs my name in my ear, I explode, and he explodes, and I breathe in and hold. I breathe out and hold. I breathe for him. I breathe for me. I breathe for the years we’ve lost, and the future we might have, uncertain though it might be.
But most of all, I just breathe.
SOMETIME LATER, he shifts above me, and I grimace. “I’m sticky,” I mutter.
He chuckles in my ear. “It’s a good look on you,” he says, kissing my chin. “Ready?”
I nod.
He rises above me, and I wince as he slides from me. Holy shit, I am going to be fucking sore tomorrow. And I’m also probably going to sound like wind blowing over a bottle when I walk. I was initially thrilled (and a bit awed) to find Dom completely size proportionate, but now I think the circus freak needs to keep that thing far away from me.
I watch him as he turns and heads for the bathroom, my gaze never leaving that broad expanse of back. Okay. I lied. I’m really watching his ass. You would, too, if you could see it like I can.
I close my eyes and drift momentarily, not thinking about much at all. I can’t remember the last time that actually happened. There’s always something with me (it’s sort of my curse), so to have this quiet, this lull between the storms is something that I cherish. Even more so because it feels like it’s been given as a gift from him to me.
There’s warmth on my chest now, and I crack open my eyes. He’s smiling down at me as he wipes my chest with a cloth. “You got some on your eyebrow,” he says, sounding amused.
“I was very pent up,” I explain as he dabs my face.