“Marcel,” she moans, arching, her voice cracked and wild. The sound urges me to press deeper, my tongue thrusting, my teeth grazing just enough to make her cry out again.
I slide a finger in slowly, picking up my pace to match my tongue against her. Her body changes, rocking against my mouth, searching, reaching. I continue until her release hits like a storm breaking, her body arching off the bed as she cries out my name. I hold her there, my mouth locked to her, drinking in every trembling pulse until she collapses, shaking and breathless.
When I finally lift my head, my lips slick, my chest rising hard, her eyes are wide and dazed. I press a slow kiss to the inside of her thigh before crawling up her body, bracing myself over her.
“I needed that,” I rasp, my voice torn raw. “Needed to taste you, to remind myself that no time, no grave, no distance could burn this out of me.”
Her hands find my face, thumbs stroking the edge of my jaw as she pulls me into a kiss, tasting herself on my tongue. “Marcel…” she breathes, her voice trembling with want. Her palm slides down between us, wrapping around me with a boldness that makes my head spin. Her eyes stay locked on mine. “You’re already hard again.”
A ragged sound escapes me, half laugh, half groan. “I’ve been waiting for this. Foryou.”
Her lips curve, shaky and pink, her hair splayed on the pillowcase. She’s trembling, but her gaze is clear, steady, pulling me under. She’s the girl I lost and the woman I found, all at once.
“Clara…” My voice cracks on her name. “I can’t hold back. I need you.”
Her fingers tighten around me, her whisper slipping between us like a secret she’s been dying to tell. “Then don’t,” she says, her eyes fierce even as her mouth trembles. “Take me. Take everything.”
I moan, the sound low and rough against her throat, my hands clumsy with hunger. The air between us trembles. Her gaze drifts downward, then back to mine, her breath catching as I press against her entrance. The world narrows to that single point of contact, the unbearable ache of being almost there.
I hover, trembling, my body poised on the edge of eternity. “Clara,” I whisper, my voice breaking, “if I take you now, I won’t ever want to stop. Not in this life or whatever comes after.”
Her hand slides to my neck, pulling me close until her words ghost across my lips. “I don’t want you to stop. I’m yours, always yours.”
I sink into her slowly, every inch a collision of longing and remembrance. Her gasp shatters the stillness, her nails digging into my shoulders as I press deeper, her body gripping me like it’s known me forever. I pause, just to feel her around me—heat, tension, the quiet miracle of being whole again in her.
My forehead falls against hers, our breaths tangled. “You’re everything I ever reached for,” I whisper, my voice wrecked. “Every lonely night, every prayer that never made it past the ceiling—it was always you.”
Her lips curve, her words trembling against my skin. “There’s no more lonely nights, Marcel.”
“Tell me,” I rasp against her ear, my voice breaking on each word, “tell me this is real. Tell me I’m not some lost soul in a dream.”
Her lips graze my jaw. “You’re not dreaming,” she breathes. “Fuck me, Cowboy, claim me.”
My hips drive deeper, as hers rise to meet me, her back arching as my hand slides over her breast. My thumb finds thetight peak, circling until she shudders and tilts her head back, eyes fluttering closed. “Marcel…” she whispers, her voice a soft plea.
Her thighs tighten around my hips, drawing me in, guiding me with an urgency that strips me of restraint. I give in, pushing forward in hard, steady strokes that transform into rougher, needier thrusts. Her hands move over my back, clutching, clawing, her breath hot against my ear.
I push up, my hands by her head, looking down. “Fuck, Clara. Look at you, so beautiful taking me.”
She arches into me, nails scraping down my shoulders as she cries out, “Marcel—God, Marcel—don’t stop.”
The pace is rough, my hips losing rhythm, only wanting to be deeper. I watch her mouth open in a silent cry as her body trembles around me, gripping me so tight it draws a ragged groan from my chest. My rhythm becomes erratic, and I drive deep, spilling into her with a sound that’s less a word and more a vow—her name torn from me like a promise carved into my bones.
We collapse together, shaking, our faces pressed close. Tears slide down my cheeks and onto hers, mingling on our skin. I find her mouth, kiss her hair, her temple, whispering against her damp skin,
Her hand comes up to cradle my jaw, her lips brushing mine as she whispers back, “Please hold me. Don’t let go. Not tonight, not tomorrow. Hold me forever, Marcel.”
I collapse against her, shaking, my heart pounding against hers. The room is quiet but for our breaths. My body still pulses inside her, every inch of me trembling. Her chest rises against mine, damp skin slick with the heat of our lovemaking. I can feel her heartbeat—wild, frantic—matching mine beat for beat.
I shift only enough to look at her face. Her eyes glisten in the lamplight, wet with tears that aren’t sorrowful but the kind of tears that come when love is too much for a body to hold.
I slip from her gently, not wanting to leave her, then draw her into me, our bodies twining together as I pull the sheet over us. She curls against my chest, her head tucked beneath my chin, as though we’ve done this a thousand times before. My hand strokes the length of her back, memorizing her all over again.
I hold her tighter, burying my face in her hair. Still mine. And as the night deepens around us, I let myself believe in something I never thought possible.
That we’ve been given this chance not just to remember, but to begin again.
Breaking
