Page 62 of Overkill

“Mine,” I whispered again.

I said it to her. To claim her.

I also said it to soothe myself. To tell myself this was real and she was here. And she was mine. I could hold her, surround her, protect her. She was everything I needed and worshipped, and in this moment, her breaths, her pulse, her whimpers, her sighs all belonged to me.

I owned very little.

I had no need for much.

But I needed her.

I pulled off my shirt, only sparing the buttons because some quiet voice in the back of my head said I’d have to walk out of here without scaring the shit out of the kids, before roughly removing my jeans and socks—because I refused to be naked in socks; it was weird, and I didn’t want to ruin the moment with something as fucking weird as being naked in socks.

We were gloriously bare, we fell together, her legs around my waist, my cock nuzzled between her folds. Our noses inches apart.

“I need you to keep your eyes on me.” I cupped her cheek and held her gaze, refusing to let her look away.

“You’re insane if you don’t think I know it’s you…”

I almost smiled.

That was the horrible thing, wasn’t it? Our past cast shadows over this perfect moment. Hers, and mine. Both tragic and trauma-riddled. But…then again, we were our pasts, too. The pain, the scars, the hurt we would heal for each other. That was what made us fit.

My cock slid against her entrance, and I groaned at her heat. I felt it everywhere.

“I’m ready for you,” she whined, eyes pleading. “I’m ready, please.”

How could I deny her? How could I ever deny her anything? Anything that was asked, and not asked.

I fisted myself in my hand. We both sighed with relief as I slowly entered her. As she opened for me. Not just her pussy, but her eyes, her body, and her mind. She was spread naked. A feast made just for me.

I wanted to jump into this with both feet, just like I’d promised I would, but something held me back.

“I don’t want you to regret this.”

I don’t want you to regret me.

“I’ll regret it if you don’t.” Her hand touched my cheek, and my tears matched hers. “If we don’t try…”

We all had unbreakable chains. We all had pasts that hold us from what we could be. But we could fight for every inch, every link in the chain, and push forward until we had enough room to breathe.

And Melody was that breath.

I kissed her again, tasting her mouth, her warmth, her life.

I pushed into her and savored her tightness strangling me even as she beckoned me in, welcoming me with legs that hooked around my waist. She pulled as much as I pushed, until we were connected as far as I could go. I was too big, and she was too tight, and somehow it was perfect because we could not ignore each other, and I was man enough to admit I wanted to weep with joy and stay here for the rest of my existence.

Because this was life.

My life. Her life.

This was it. The best that I would ever have, and better than anything I could have ever dreamed.

“Mine!” I cried against her lips, and she cried too.

“Mine,” she whispered back.

She was perfect. The girl next door. The one with a family, a house, and a life in which I could be useful. She was a purpose I could wrap my soul around. I wanted more of her. More of us. I wanted more of all this. It was perfect but also imperfect, so I had something to do here. I had a place in this house, a thing I could give and contribute to, and she was a person I wanted to work for in every possible way.