Hawke likes my answer, pumps hard into me a few more times, and then surprises me by rolling. His hands expertly grip my hips, slinging me on top and never losing a fraction of an inch within me. It takes me no more than a second to get my bearings before I start to ride him.
I'm not sure if my eyes are adjusting to the dark or I'm just seeing things clearer, but Hawke's gaze upon me is intense with emotion. He bites his lower lip, his hands on my hips urging me to go faster and harder on him. He groans and grunts with every downward push, racing along with me on this highway of sizzling sex and lust.
"I'm going to come again," I gasp as he hits me extra deep and I feel the telltale prickles in my lower back and between my legs.
Hawke likes that proclamation too, because he knifes upward into a sitting position, his long legs stretched out. He wraps my legs around his back, places his strong hands under my ass, and presses his chest into mine. Then with the strength of his upper arms, he propels me along, bouncing me up and down on his shaft until I'm starting to mewl like a kitten in need.
"Come on, Vale," he urges me. "Want you to come all around me. Let me feel it. Let my cock feel it. Give it to me."
With every word he utters, my orgasm pulses...breaks free.
"Fuck, I've missed this so goddamn much," Hawke groans, and with those words, just from the mere emotion and gravity of what they mean to me, I scream out my release. He pulls me up by my hips one last time, slams me back downward as his hips punch up, and goes deeper into me than he ever has before.
He goes straight to my soul as he starts to come inside of me.
His face drops to my shoulder and he moans, "Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck that's good. So fucking good."
He pulses and shivers in my arms. My body shudders with overwhelming physical and emotional release. My heart splits wide open, right down the middle, and I'm flooded with such passionate feeling for this man that I do the only thing that can possibly be done in this moment.
I brush my lips against his temple and whisper, "I love you, Hawke."
Letting out a long exhale of relief that I've said what's been in my heart for probably forever, I pull back and look at him with a soft smile. I expect the words to come back to me at any moment. I expect his mouth to curve up gently and with appreciation for my honesty in helping to move us back to that special place we once inhabited.
Instead, his head sort of jerks back in surprise and his brow furrows into a pained wince of an expression. He opens his mouth to say something, and when nothing comes out, my stomach drops in keen disappointment. Hawke drops his gaze, down and to the left, staring aimlessly at the blanket and discarded paper cups.
While his hands are still resting softly on my hips and he's still hard within me and buried deep, I feel exquisite emptiness make a hollow cavern out of my chest.
"But you don't feel the same," I hazard a whispered guess.
His eyes snap up to mine and his gaze is sympathetic. He even leans forward and gives me a soft kiss before saying, "I'm sorry...I feel something. I'm just not sure it's love, Vale."
Chapter 25
Hawke
"You seriously can't be leaving," I say as I watch her helplessly put another suitcase into the trunk of her car.
"It's for the best," she says quietly, refusing to look me in the eye. She stuffs a duffel bag into an empty nook beside the suitcases. I want to rip them out and toss them to the ground, slam the trunk, and demand she stay.
"So everything that we've been building back up...that's not worth staying for," I growl at her, my frustration starting to overtake my emotions.
"I'm sorry," she whispers, and places the last bag in place. When she shuts the trunk, she turns to look at me with sad eyes but a clear conscience. "But it's for the best."
I don't beg. I will not beg. But I come close when I ask, "Is there anything I can do to get you to stay?"
If I thought her eyes were sad before, they go positively morose. She looks as if her entire world just got plunged into darkness. And she tells me the one thing I cannot give her. "You can tell me you love me."
I jerk awake, the strains of "Let It Be" by the Beatles ironically filtering from my earbuds to my consciousness. I rub my eyes, pull the minispeakers from my ears, and look to my right. Max sits in the plane seat next to me, staring at me with a knowing look in his eyes. "Bad dream?"
"Something like that," I mumble.
"You okay?"
"Sure," I say as I wind the cord of the earbuds around my iPhone and stuff it in the seat pocket in front of me.
But I'm anything but fine.
Things are fucked up.
Fucked up so bad I feel absolutely helpless and without any clear direction on how to make it better.
I haven't seen Vale in four days. Since that awful fucking night out by the airport when I had the best orgasm of my entire freaking life, and then proceeded to lose the girl. I'm not sure that's how things are supposed to happen.
I'm not kidding.
Best. Fucking. Orgasm. Ever.
So powerful it sucked everything out of me and left me momentarily desolate of feeling. I was confused by the force of the response to Vale and the way in which we were fucking. The exquisite sensitivity to her; the solid connection of our bodies and even something more than that.
She told me she loved me, and based on how perfect those moments were right before those words tumbled forth, I should have been throwing a dance party on cloud nine. Instead, those words pierced through me like a molten poker straight from the fireplace, filling me with the burning pain of betrayal. It wasn't something that lasted long, but a finite stab of anger pulsed within me toward Vale. That she could dare go back to that revered place we both shared once long ago. I wasn't the same. She wasn't the same. What we had was different now, and in a moment of absolute shocked confusion over what she was saying, I refused to let myself believe that love was even possible.
And I told her such.
Things clearly eroded from there. There was a mad scramble by Vale off of my lap where she awkwardly pulled her clothes on while I tried to make things better with a multitude of idiotic statements.
I'm sorry. We have something here. Let's talk about this.
I care for you, Vale. Surely you can see that.
Wait a minute...take a deep breath and let's figure this out.
These lame attempts to spark a conversation fell flat. She refused to look at me as she got dressed, and when she was fully clothed and I was still bare-ass naked, she said in a soft voice, "I'd like to go home now."
I sighed and rolled over, pulling my clothes on slowly. I felt that with every article I put back on, I was heading faster toward the demise of what we had become so far and I didn't know how to fix it. The only thing I could think to do was smack myself on the forehead and blurt out, "Silly me...I was confused. I do, in fact, love you too."
But I couldn't do that. It simply wasn't true, and the only explanation I had for this innate feeling of not being able to reciprocate was because I didn't trust Vale not to hurt me again. So I, in turn, hurt her.
Yeah, I'm pretty much a douche.
After an awkwardly silent start to the journey back to her apartment, we were able to get a modicum of conversation going. She's actually the one that started it.
I jerked when she said in such a confused voice, "I don't understand. I thought I had it figured out."
I seized the opportunity to try to get this turned around in a positive manner. Like a moron, I said, "Look...I'm sure you were just caught up in the moment. It's easy to do that during sex. We have feelings for each other, and sometimes they can seem multiplied when you're in the middle of--"
"No," she cut in on me quietly. "I'm not mistaken in how I feel. I do love you. I'm just confused on about why you don't love me back."
That shut me the fuck up, for all of about two minutes. Then as carefully as I could, with all hope still surging that I could still salvage this with her, I said, "I can't
explain it, but something inside of me just rebelled against it, Vale. I'm just not ready to say it back."
"Why?" she pressed me, her voice sounding determined to uncover the truth as to why she was so far off the mark.
I sighed, turned the radio completely off, and said, "Honestly...I think I don't trust you not to hurt me again. I think the betrayal of what you did...the way you cut me loose before...I apparently just can't let it go."
I felt it before I saw it. Almost as if the temperature in the car dropped a few degrees, then I imperceptibly saw her body tighten through my peripheral vision. I turned my head to look at her and was shocked by the flash of anger I saw in her eyes. I expected to see contrition, but she was pissed.
"You can't let it go?" she asked incredulously.
"Apparently not," I said, with my own anger building. I felt I still deserved to be offended. I thought I still had the right to be wary.