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Lifting his head, he pressed it into the pillow, hiding himself away from me. I growled and pulled out, and the shock of not being connected made my stomach dip with discomfort.
I pulled him around so he was on his back. “Look at me, princess,” I demanded, and he opened his eyes.
I held his stare when I claimed him again with one thrust. His mouth came open, but no sound came out. Bracing myself on my hands, I increased my thrusts, the need in me taking over, blinding me to all else.
I drilled into his body until sweat beaded my hairline and dripped down my chest. His dick bounced between us, and I lowered so my abs brushed against it with every thrust.
His eyes blazed with pleasure, the look on his face blissful and far away.
“You’re mine,” I chanted. “Mine. Mine. Mine.”
Up and up I went, his channel like a vise ready to strangle me for every last bit of pleasure I had to give, but I wouldn’t give in until he did too.
Reaching between us, I wrapped my hand around his cock, smiling at the moisture beading the tip. “Be a good boy and come for me, Matthew. Let go.”
Angling my hips just right, I thrust again, keeping the pace in tune with the way I jacked him. His hands slapped onto my bicep, nails digging in.
“There you go, baby. Give it to me.”
His body arched, a long, low moan slipping from his lips while his pleasure shot across his belly and dripped over my hand. Satisfaction sent me plummeting over the edge, and with one last powerful thrust, I came undone, the orgasm hitting so hard that spots swam before my eyes.
My body jerked and shook, muscles rigid as I poured into him, his hole clenching to milk every single drop.
When power over my own body came back to me, I lowered so we were chest to chest and peppered his face with gentle, fleeting kisses.
“I love you,” I whispered. “I love you so much.”
His breath caught, and I drew back to gauge his reaction.
His lips remained closed, but his eyes shimmered like uncut diamonds.
“Did you feel?” I whispered, brushing the backs of my fingers across his flushed cheek.
Can you feel how much I love you?
One of those diamonds fell over, liquid in form, to streak a glittering path toward his ear. A knot formed in my throat as I waited. But just as I was about to choke, he nodded.
31
Prism
He loves me.
He loves me not.
He loves me.
Not even I, a man scorned by love since birth, could deny it. I was too hypersensitive to emotion. To sound. To touch. To the world around me. And right now?
My entire world was him.
How could I not feel it? It was overwhelming and devastating. Undeniable to even a cynic like me.
I wanted his love. God, how I wanted it. To be swallowed up and muffled by Arsen Aaron Andrews. To let his love shield me from everything sharp and cruel. To believe that I was lovable even if I was filled with faults.
Love is fragile.
Love is fickle.
