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Love is not a guarantee.
So yes, even though I could feel his love, feel it so well it was nearly tangible, how could I accept it?
What would happen when he woke up one day, tired of the life sentence of me? I supposed it was different with Kruger, Jess, and Gram. Their love, I mean.
All love is not created equal.
It seemed far less of a risk for them to love me. For me to love them back.
But with Arsen? I wondered if the risk outweighed the reward. That thought alone made me sick, and I sat up on the bed, violently swallowing the vomit trying to purge itself up the back of my throat.
How could you even think that about him? What is wrong with you, Matthew?
When did I start referring to myself as Matthew?
God, he was in me deep. DNA swimming in my womb. Hickeys marking my skin. Whispers in my ear. The very beat of my heart.
Yeah, yeah, I don’t have a womb. It’s an expression, okay?
Give a guy a break.
Besides, as emotional as I felt after everything and then that dicking down he just gave me, I might as well have been pregnant.
Look, I never said I was as funny as Jamie.
And clearly, I have a breeding kink.
Add it to the list of things I won’t tell people. Lucky you, getting to know my kinky secrets. *wink*
“Hey.” Arsen’s voice was calm and soothing, the literal balm to my very existence. The sheets ruffled when he sat up beside me, broad palm stroking across my back. “You okay?”
I turned toward him, and he opened his arms. I crawled into them, fitting myself between his spread thighs. I sat sideways in his lap, shoulder and side pressed against his chest, the rest of me enclosed in his arms.
His chin rested on the top of my head, his prickly scruff catching in my hair. Burrowing closer, I reached for his nipple piercing, twisting and tugging it lightly, then tapping against it in threes. One, two, three. He said nothing, just held me while rubbing up and down my arm.
I knew I should say something, but it was hard to speak. And when I was here like this, tucked into his embrace, the reward far outweighed the risk.
What about when he’s gone?
An intrusive image of his father, Senator Andrews, high-beamed the backs of my eyelids, leaving me nearly blind.
I jolted, falling out of his arms.
He reached for me, but I scrambled out of bed, more worried about the way the carpet felt underfoot than the fact I was stark naked.
Kinda hard to be shy about that when his cum is leaking out my ass.
That thought had me reaching around to feel that, yes, Arsen’s release was in fact dripping from my puffy entrance. The panic about the carpet shifted into something new. Emptiness. Abandonment. I didn’t want him leaking out. I wanted him to stay.
Without thinking, I scooped up what I could and pushed it back inside me, body sagging a little in relief.
He caught me around the waist, lifting enough so he could plant my feet on top of his.
“What are you doing?” I asked, glancing down at the way I stood on top of him.
“Was about to ask you the same thing,” he rumbled, and tingles raced over my scalp.
I stepped back, but the second my foot made contact with the sandpaper marauding as carpet, my skin screamed, so I jammed it back on top of his, and he chuckled under his breath.
