“I couldn’t stop now if I tried.”
I stick two of my fingers into her mouth. “Suck,” I command. And she does. Thoroughly.
I can’t wait to feel that mouth on my cock.
I pull my fingers from her mouth, and she releases them with a pop, then I bring them down to where we’re connected and rub her until she’s writhing against me, begging for more, harder, faster. I sit back on my heels to watch myself driving in and out of her, and I could come from the sight alone. Her long, lean torso, the beauty mark below her right breast, her full tits bouncing as she meets me thrust for thrust, her head thrown back in ecstasy. This girl is lethal. Somehow, I know she’ll be the end of me, but I can’t bring myself to care. Because this right here? Would be worth a thousand deaths.
When her legs start to shake, I tuck one hand under the small of her back and cover her with my body again. I bury my face in her damp neck as I finally allow myself to let go. I fuck her punishingly. And maybe I am punishing her. For walking out on me yesterday. For not coming to class today. For making me want her.
“Come with me, Remi,” I whisper into her ear before dragging the lobe between my teeth.
“Pierce, I’m coming! Fuck me, I’m coming,” she chants into my ear as she clamps down on my cock. She milks the orgasm out of me, and I drive into her one more time, burying myself to the hilt as I spill inside of her.
“Fuuuuuuuck,” I groan. Remington wraps her legs around my back, holding me inside of her. Our chests are heaving and sticking to each other, and my sheets are soaking from her wet clothes beneath her, but neither one of us makes a move to separate. I know that when we do, it will all hit me. The reality of what we did. What I did. The guilt. But I still won’t regret it.
We lie wrapped up in each othe
r, her nails tracing up and down my back while I bury my nose in her neck until the sheets turn cold and her teeth start to chatter.
“Shit, let’s get you warm,” I say apologetically.
“Mhm,” she mumbles sleepily.
“Do you want to take a hot shower?”
“Uh-uh,” she says, shaking her head, and I chuckle.
“Are you hungry?”
“I’m not anything. I don’t ever want to move.” She yawns and stretches, and I feel my cock start to harden again. I grind into her, and she winces from the move.
“Are you hurt?” I ask, pulling out.
“A little sore,” she admits. “But it’s a good kind of sore.”
“Remington, this wasn’t…” I clear my throat, unsure of how to ask.
“No,” she says simply. “But not in a long time, and it was nothing like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like us.”
I kiss her hard, because I know what she means. I feel it, too.
Twenty minutes later, I lift her onto my bathroom counter, place her heels at the edge, and feast on her swollen pussy, then I go downstairs to fix her a BLT while she takes a shower.
She comes down with one of my plain white tees on. Long, bare legs padding down my stairs. Hips swaying. Wet hair dripping. Fresh, makeup-free face making her look so young and innocent. I notice the faint freckles across her nose for the first time, and I decide right here and now that I like this version of Remington best.
She eats, and I watch her.
She drinks one of my sodas, and I watch her.
She tells me to say something, but everything I have to say is either dirty as hell or scary as fuck.
I take her hand wordlessly and lead her back to my bedroom, feeling so much more myself—my real, pre-Gwen’s death self—than I did when she first walked into my zone. Into my house. Into my domain.
She stops by my office and peeks through the slightly opened door.