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The war in her continues to wage as I fuck her with my fingers, coating them with the proof of her last orgasm. She crashes onto me until she needs an escape from the pleasure, and then comes promptly back for more, driven to desperation. I’m drawing it out, enjoying every second as she waffles between pleasure and overload. I could do this forever—let her edge herself with my help. But my cock aches to be where my fingers are, so I put her out of her misery, curling my fingers inside of her and caressing that spongy little spot buried deep inside. She immediately stops moving. I think she spits out the word fuck, but it’s hard to hear past my pulse thundering in my ears. Her legs are trembling on either side of me, and her arms above me, though I think for two very different reasons.
I thrust into her again, curling my fingers at the top so that when she tries to move away, it only results in the vigorous bouncing of her breasts. She can’t move, even if she wanted to—her body has already begun surrendering to me. “Stop, I—”
But whatever she meant to say, it’s lost in a cry.
And then a moment later, she finally makes good on the threat from before. She worried she’d crush me, but neither of us thought she may drown me. I open my mouth to drink from her, but I can’t work fast enough to swallow it all. The liquid spills over my chin while I lap at what I can get, taking all that I can while she attempts to wiggle away from me. When I finally let her go, Claire scrambles quickly away, her face burning. For a moment, I worry she’s angry that I continued when she was clearly trying to get away from me, but then I realize it’s not anger. She’s… embarrassed.
“I—” Wrapping her arms across herself, she hides her nakedness from me and buries her face in her palms a moment, trying to collect herself. Her chest still heaves, and when I sit up and peel her hands away from her face, she’s still scarlet. “I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry?” I manage to repeat the word before I laugh, taking the moment to catch my breath too. I thread my fingers through her hair, pushing it off her face so that she has a clear view of me when I speak again. I have to tilt her chin up so that she looks at me, and even then, she averts her eyes from mine until I run my thumb over her lips. “That was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. I’d drown in you the rest of my life to give you pleasure.”
She opens her mouth, probably to protest, and I seize the opportunity she’s presented. I pull her against me and crush her lips against mine, letting her feel the truth of my words and the wetness that came from her. When I push my tongue against hers, I make her taste herself too.
It’s when she melts beneath me, accepting the second-hand taste and what just happened and how much I need her right now, that I realize I’m in trouble.
Earlier I was terrified by the idea of turning into one of the men I seek to destroy.
Now that thought is eclipsed by the realization that Claire has somehow become what no one else has ever been.
Other than my sister, there has only been one person in my life that I’d die for, and I had to leave her before my darkness destroyed her. Rhea has been the only person in my life that I’d live for, and I had to leave her on the other side of the world so that she could be safe. But now there’s a new woman in my world, and the danger with this one is that I’ve just realized I would both die for her and live for her.
That’s the scariest fucking thought I’ve ever had.
Chapter thirty-four
Claire
Aside from the mind-bending orgasms he gave me in quick succession, our second time together is nothing like the first. My body is tired, physically drained after the intensity of what just happened, but Remy’s awake with the need for more and I’m not going to deny him after that. As much as I feel like I need to curl up and sleep, I also somehow ache for more of him. I’m not sure I have much left to give, but I’ll take what he offers… his fingers curling in my hair, his lips whispering something against my ear as he lines himself up with my slit, the groan as he pushes inside of me all at once, meeting no resistance and filling me all the way.
“So wet for me, Claire.”
I’m not too exhausted for the slightest bit of embarrassment to start slipping beneath my skin. But there’s something more demanding, something that pushes my little bit of shame aside—desire.
Being filled with him floods me with the need for more, so that when he pulls back to give himself more room to slide in again, it sends static need racing along my spine. I lift my hips to meet him, seeking his friction, my need for what I’m getting renewed. I’m on the edge of delirium, caught between wanting this, needing it, and needing a moment to regroup.
I can still feel my clit throbbing with the force of my orgasm, and I know that any touch there right now would be absolutely excruciating, and yet I want more.
“Needy little thing.” He laughs, sinking into me and chasing a moan out of me as proof of what he’s just said. I’m not sure if he’s referring to me or more specifically my vagina, but at the moment, we’re both needy whores, so I don’t object.
I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. I’ve only been with a few men, and none of them ever wanted to talk during this. And yet, his words are doing as much for me as his thick cock stroking my insides. I don’t know how to reciprocate that, or if he would even want me to reciprocate that, but I close my eyes anyway and say the words that spring to my tongue.
“Yes.” I moan, perfectly timed as he slides in again. “I need you. I need you to fill me, Remy.”
For the briefest second, I worry about my word choice and whether it’s too specific, but we’ve already established we’re both clean and I’m on birth control. And I want him to not just fill me with his cock, but with his cum too. I want him to paint my insides with his lust, to feel his seed slipping between my thighs. His thrusts pick up, apparently spurred on by my words.
“I want you to go back downstairs—” he grunts, hitting deep inside and pulling a moan out of me “with my cum dripping down your legs.”
The thought is depraved and yet wildly erotic. My lips part to let out whatever noise his deliciously naughty suggestion provoked, but he covers my mouth with his and plunges his tongue against mine before it meets the air. I’m desperate as I kiss him, and he swallows my sounds just as easily as he swallowed my orgasm.
He seems to be composed despite the fact that he unraveled me long ago… all the way up until I hear him swear under his breath. It takes me a moment to realize he pulled away—I think I’ve started to disconnect from my body, honestly. It’s like there’s a single thread connecting my soul to my body at this point, and while the pleasure is blissful, it’s sending me to another plane.
I open my eyes to see him moving away and open my mouth to ask what’s wrong, but his hands are on my hips as he pulls out of me so quickly that the loss is visceral. For one millisecond, I worry that I did something wrong or that he just reached a very anticlimactic climax. But no sooner does he pull out of me, than he flips me all at once so that I’m flat on my stomach. I’m suddenly aware of the silk sheets and how luxurious they feel rubbing against all of my hot and needy bits. He’s in me again with one thrust, and it’s enough to make me come alive again.
Despite my exhaustion, I need to invite him deeper inside me, give him more access, so I get my hands under me, lifting my hips and presenting him with my ass like some sort of gift, letting my nipples drag against the sheets. Each of his thrusts drags them over the mattress, keeping them hard as the rest of me melts.
“You take my dick so well, baby.”
The surprise crackles quickly like lightning through me, hand-in-hand with pride. This is the first time he’s called me anything other than Claire, and while I know better than to think anything of it, the praise in combination with the affection of a pet name is too much. It’s too soft, too gentle, too… easy.
