My breaths were as frantic as his when he came inside me. His grunts were primal. His body was wild.
He kissed me as his cock unloaded, and I felt it – love.
Love from him.
Love for me.
Love, even in the dirty.
Love, even in the raw.
He was sheened in sweat as he collapsed onto me, my wrists still pinned up high. He kept on kissing me, kept on grinding, and my ass was throbbing sore when he pulled out. I felt like he’d bulldozed my butt with his dick, but still I was wriggling for more.
“The jitterbug jitters,” he said, and ground against my clit over again.
Fuck, I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t. I was wriggling and squeaking, my body still reeling from the last orgasm, but again, he knew my body better than I did.
Slowly.
So fucking slowly.
The rhythm was firm.
Coaxing.
My body was tingling.
Wired.
The man ground his dick against my clit until I came again, and this time I had no words, just pants, body bucking like a bronco while he was holding me firm.
“Good girl,” he said, and I unravelled.
I gave up, cresting on the heights, and he was everything. He was my whole fucking world.
I guess that’s why my mouth ran away with me. I guess that’s why I blurted the stupid unblurtable as I lay gasping for breath under the man who’d stolen it.
“I love you,” I told him. “Seriously, Logan, I love you. I love you so much, it’s unreal. So don’t ever stop this. Please, don’t ever stop this. I wouldn’t be able to breathe if you did.”
And that’s when he stilled.
That’s when he tensed and pulled his body away from mine.
Spell broken, his eyes primal in a whole other way, jaw gritted hard as his shutters came down.
“Let’s get that coffee,” he said.34LoganI hated myself as I walked through to the kitchen, knowing full well I’d cut her off in a moment of expression. I couldn’t help it. My barriers were up, steel strong, emotions sealed.
She followed me through, jeans and t-shirt back on, fingers twisting in front of her in that way I knew so well. She didn’t speak, just stared, and it broke my heart to see her like that, so confused and so unsure.
I didn’t know what to say to her, so I said nothing, just flicked the kettle on and made coffee, wishing life was different, and that I hadn’t been that little boy, fighting bodily demons in the hospital ward.
I’d already handed over her mug when she cleared her throat and spoke to me. Her words were timid. Shy.
“Sorry, if I, um… said more than I should.”
I shook my head. “You didn’t.”
“Oh.” The confusion on her face deepened.
I leant against the counter, trying to find words of my own.
“You said you couldn’t breathe without me, Chloe.”
Her eyes widened. “Yeah, I meant that I was feeling it, you know?”
I did know. I was feeling it too. I was feeling that utter reliance on another person. On the happiness she gave me, and the sparkle in her smile. In her touch, in her laughter, in her warmth at night.
“Life is fragile,” I told her. “Love is fragile with it.”
“Not this love,” she said, and I fell in love with her all over again. Her honesty, her outpouring – so natural and so true. “This love isn’t fragile. I know it isn’t.”
“Life’s fragility makes all love fragile.” I sipped my coffee, soaking in her stare. “Love leads to loss. Loss leads to pain. Therefore, all love ends in pain.”
She was still confused, mulling over my words. “But love makes it worth the pain, right? You only ever get a fall after a high.”
There it was again. That optimism. That beautiful optimism that made her who she was.
I wish I believed her.
I almost told her my truth. I almost broke down those barriers and confessed my own reality, but I didn’t. The steel didn’t bend, even though my heart was beating for it.
“You love me, right?” she asked. “You said so. And it was more than that, I felt it, too. I feel it, Logan. And it’s not me being the crazy happy girl who sings through life. It’s true, and it’s real, and I know that.”
“Chloe…” I started, but she was shaking her head.
“Don’t do the whole impractical thing. Don’t do the whole professional and age and all that, please. It doesn’t matter, and it doesn’t make any difference, and I don’t care. I don’t care that you’re older, or work with me, or think I’m better off without you. Because that’s what this is, isn’t it? You think I’m too young and too happy for you. You think I should be with someone more like me, and who will dance around with me, and be silly with me.”
The girl had astute perception, but she was wrong on the essentials. I thought she’d be better off without me because she would. She was in her twenties with her whole life ahead of her. Adventures to be had, and children running around her feet.