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Bryce grabs my hips possessively as he thrusts again. “I wouldn’t want you if I didn’t…” His voice trails off into a moan.
I freeze. I have to know. “If you didn’t what?”
“Love you,” he moans.
His hand clamps down on my shoulder again as I squeeze my eyes shut. Bryce hovers over me and penetrates my body again and again. A tingle rises up inside me as if I had dreamt those words.
“I thought you hated me, the way you torture me,” I reply.
“I hate that I want you so bad.” As Bryce confesses, his strokes lose control, and his thrusts shake me. I whimper and pant as he cums, and his fingers bite into my skin. “I own you!” he shouts. “You own me.” He shudders against my body as he collapses. “I’m the one.” He pulses inside me as I desperately catch my breath. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” he chants, pressing his head against my back as I lie underneath him.
I own you. You own me.
It flew out of his mouth, but does it mean anything? Do I have him forever, or just while he’s fucking me? His load leaves long trails on the inside of my thighs after he pulls out of me. My fingers touch the wetness, and I shiver. We’re both totally spent as we kneel side by side, our heads resting on the couch as we catch our breaths.
I know there’s no way I can jump up and get into a car with Pierce. Not only do I smell like sex, but I smell like Bryce. A light pressure, and then I’m back in Bryce’s arms as he holds me tight on our couch. His sweaty skin is against mine, and his muscles are firm against my softness. I feel sore, but so good.
