Our relationship rests on this moment.
If she can’t do this…
If she can’t touch me.
If I can’t have her.
I wait.
Please, Ana.
Tentatively, she reaches up and places her hand on my chest.
Heat and pain spiral across my chest as the darkness unleashes its claws. I gasp and close my eyes.
I can do this.
I can do this for her.
My girl.
Ana.
She runs her hand up to my shoulder, her fingertips scalding my skin. I groan; I want this so much and I dread it so much.
To dread your lover’s touch. What kind of fuckup am I?
She pulls me down to her and moves her hands to my back, holding me. Her palms on my flesh. Branding me. My strangled cry is half groan, half sob. I bury my face in her neck, hiding, seeking solace from the pain, but kissing her, loving her, as her fingers cross the two scars on my back.
It’s almost unbearable.
I kiss her, feverishly, losing myself in her tongue and her mouth as I fight my demons, using only my lips and my hands. They skim over her body while her hands move over mine.
The darkness is swirling, trying to dislodge her, but Ana’s fingers are on me. Caressing me. Feeling me. Gentle. Loving. And I steel myself against my fear and the pain.
I trail my lips down to her breasts and close them around one nipple, tugging until it’s hard and standing at attention. She groans as her body rises to meet mine and she scrapes her fingernails across the muscles on my back. It’s too much. Fear erupts in my chest, hammering my heart. “Oh, fuck, Ana,” I cry out and stare down at her. She’s panting, eyes bright and brimming with sensuality.
This is turning her on.
Fuck.
Don’t overthink this, Grey.
Man up. Go with it.
Taking a deep breath to slow my pounding heart, I skate my hand down her body, over her belly, to her labia. I cup her and my fingers are wet with her anticipation. Easing them inside her, I circle them and she pushes her pelvis up to meet my hand.
“Ana.” Her name is an invocation. I release her and sit up, and her hands fall away so she’s no longer touching me. I feel relieved and bereft at once. I remove my boxers, freeing my cock, and lean over to the bedside table for a condom. I hand it to her. “You want to do this? You can still say no. You can always say no.”
“Don’t give me a chance to think, Christian.” She’s breathless. “I want you, too.” She rips open the foil with her teeth and slowly, with trembling fingers, slides it onto me.
Her fingers on my erection are torture. “Steady. You are going to unman me, Ana.”
She gives me a quick, possessive smile, and when she’s done I stretch over her. But I need to know she wants this, too. I roll us both over, quickly.
“You, take me,” I whisper, staring up at her.
She licks her lips and sinks down on me, taking me, inch by inch.
“Ah.” I tilt my head back and close my eyes.
I’m yours, Ana.
She grabs my hands and starts to move, up and down.
Oh, baby.
Leaning forward, she kisses my chin and runs her teeth over my jaw.
I’m going to come.
Shit.
I still her with my hands on her hips.
Slow, baby. Please, let’s take this slow.
Her eyes are full of passion and excitement.
And I steel myself once more. “Ana, touch me, please.”
Her eyes widen with sheer delight and she spreads her hands on my chest. It’s blistering. I cry out and thrust deep inside her.
“Ah,” she whimpers, and her fingernails trail through my chest hair. Tantalizing me. Teasing me. But the darkness is pushing at each point of contact, determined to rupture my skin. It’s so painful, so intense, tears spring to my eyes, and Ana’s face blurs in a watery vision.
I twist so that she’s underneath me. “Enough. No more, please.”
She reaches up and clasps my face in her hands, wiping my tears, then pulling me down so that her lips are on mine. I drive into her. Trying to find my equilibrium, but I’m lost. Lost to this woman. Her breath is at my ear: Short. Panting. She’s reaching. She’s close. But she’s holding back.
“Let go, Ana,” I whisper.
“No.”
“Yes,” I plead, and I shift and roll my hips, filling her.
She moans, loud and clear, her legs tensing.
“Come on, baby, I need this. Give it to me.”
We need this.
She lets go, convulsing around me and crying out while she wraps her arms and legs around my body and I find my release.
HER FINGERS ARE IN my hair while my head rests on her chest. She’s here. She didn’t leave, but I can’t shake the feeling that I nearly lost her again. “Don’t ever leave me,” I whisper. Above me, I feel her move her head, her chin lifting in that mulish way she has. “I know you’re rolling your eyes at me,” I add, pleased that she’s doing so.