I smooth my hands down her inner thighs and over the tops of her smooth knees. “Course not. Just means that you won’t be having sex with anyone else.” Ever again, I finish in my head.
“For now,” she retorts stubbornly.
Forever. “Can we negotiate later when all my blood isn’t pooled in my cock? I need you. I need to be inside you. Let me in.”
“As long as you acknowledge that me sleeping with you doesn’t mean I forgive you or that I’ve forgotten. You haven’t explained anything to me.” She’s mad but she hasn’t moved.
“That’s fair.” Rational thought has fled, though. I wouldn’t be able to explain how to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich at this point. I place my hard cock at the entrance of her sex, for a moment enjoying the sight of her flushed, rosy flesh opening. “And, baby, we aren’t going to sleep a wink tonight.”
30
Charlotte
I’m so torn. I love him and yet . . . part of me hates him and hates that he’s making me want him. I’m pinned to the bed, not by his gaze or his hands, but my own fucked-up desire for him. The mixed emotions turn to anger. If this is all he’s willing to give me and my body is begging for it, why not give in to him? Let him fuck me. Let him give me pleasure. If this is all we have, I’ll take it. This one time.
I curl my heel into his back, right above his tight, bitable ass.
“Take me. If this is all you’ve got to give me, make it good. Make it so good I don’t remember the last nine years.”
His eyes widen, and I think he may pull away but he doesn’t. He pushes the broad head of him into me, and he feels so big I’m afraid he’ll split me in two. “I’ve dreamt about this moment,” he says thickly. “Fantasized about it so many times. Wanted it to be true so many times.”
Each word pierces me, a dagger in my heart. If only those words had been spoken in all those silent spaces years before. Now it’s salt on the wounds of my heart. The wounds that started like small little paper cuts, only to deepen as each year passed and the bonds that tethered us together for so long grew thinner and thinner until they were weak like a single thread.
“Don’t talk,” I beg because I want to be able to close my eyes and revisit my own fantasies. The ones where he comes to my door on his knees and pours out his soul. The ones where I join him, and our tears of past regret but current joy mingle together.
Today, the only tears are mine, and they are bittersweet.
“Charlotte, Charlotte,” he pleads. “What is wrong?”
“I’m just . . . torn . . . apart.”
“Let me love you. I’ll make it better.”
I give in because the sensation of him being inside me is overwhelming. It’s been years. And I’m dying for it. My body is trembling with desire. And my flesh easily gives way with each slow push forward until he’s finally seated. “God, Charlotte. God!” He stands at the end of the bed, his nostrils flaring, his hands biting into my hips as he shakes with the effort of standing still. Every line of his body screams for him to pull out and plunge forward repeatedly until he spends himself, but he wants to make it good for me.
I can see the fierce determination in his face, the internal struggle between his mind and body. He wants to fulfill my demand that it be so amazing I’ll never forget it. His eyes are glazed over, and I wonder what he’s seeing–whether it’s me or young Charlotte or the Charlotte he’s created in his mind in the years of our absence.
“I want you so bad I’m afraid to move. It’ll be over in five seconds.” His chest heaves as he grapples for control. I wonder if he knows how sexy he is. If another person saw him right now, they’d fall over in shocked arousal. He’s a stallion—a perfect construct of muscle, bone, and flesh. Every inch of him is defined. If he’d told me he’d been hewn from a rock in the sea, I’d believe him. There is nothing soft. Even his cock is diamond hard, splintering me.
His hands roam everywhere, leaving behind a trail of raised hairs, goosebumps, and shivering nerve endings. Finally he moves, and the slow drag along my oversensitive tissues causes me to arch my back off the bed. His head falls back, and his eyes close only to snap open.
“When I close my eyes, I see you in every position I’ve ever imagined. You sitting on my face. You riding me. You on your knees while I’m fucking you like an animal. You covered in soap and water as I eat you out and then fuck you against the tile. I’ve had you in my mind in every way possible and some not possible ones. I’ve dreamt of fucking you standing, sitting, bent over, and raised up. I’ve fantasized it all but none of it—none of it—came even close to what it feels like to be inside you.” He plunges forward, and I cry out.