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“We… we can’t…” My words trail off with my moans of pleasure. “This will never happen again. It can’t. We’re married. Never again.” I can't tell if I'm trying to convince him or myself.
“We’re not married for much longer,” he rasps, his thrusts become deeper and quicker, both of us in a race to the finish line. I'm determined to get there first and get the fuck out of his room.
I open my mouth to speak, but my words fall short when the familiar warming sensation starts at the bottom of my stomach and tightens. My climax is so close, and as wrong as it is, I desperately want to come on his cock again.
“You feel so fucking good. We can’t stop, not when we’ve only just begun.”
“Dean, oh God, Dean.” I'm not sure if I'm crying his name because I want him to stop or go deeper. After all, he feels so fucking good inside of me. Stretching me. Owning me. Claiming me.
“This isn’t a mistake. You came here for a reason. You needed me, just like I need you.” He pinches my nipple and clit simultaneously, sending jolts of electricity through my body.
“M-mistake!” I cry out, my climax ready to consume me.
With a grunt, he stills before I have the chance to let go and give in to the pleasure. With a slap to my ass, he pulls his still hard cock out of my pulsing pussy, leaving me wet and aching with need.
“Why did you come here?” he growls, demanding an answer.
“Fuck! Why did you stop?” I whine, grinding myself against his rock-hard cock that’s pressing against my ass, slick from my juices.
“I asked you a question. If you want to cum, you must answer me.” He pinches my nipple again, tugging at it in a way that is both painful and pleasurable. “Why did you come here last night?”
“Because… I wanted to see you.”
“Why?” His fingers find my clit, brushing over it teasingly. I groan in frustration, desperately needing him to rub my clit and let me have what I both need and want. An orgasm. “Why, Camille?” he demands.
The bastard always knows exactly why I showed up at his door last night, but he wants me to say it.
He’s making a point.
Asshole.
“I came because I wanted to see you! I had a fight with Declan, and the only arms I wanted to be in were yours! You were the one I wanted to comfort me, and I wanted to feel you inside of me!” I yell my admission.
He's silent for a moment, but my answer must please him because the very next second, his fingers are back on my clit, while he glides his cock back inside of me easily and begins piston fucking me like a crazed man.
My body twitches, and it doesn't take long until I'm shaking and crying out my orgasm, flooding him with everything I have. I come with a loud cry, my head falling back on his shoulder. I’m a boneless mess, still floating on cloud nine when he reaches his climax and roars his release, shooting his hot semen deep inside of my throbbing pussy.
“Oh, God,” I groan breathlessly, a grin curling my lips.
For a while, we lie beside each other, his cock still inside of me, but he’s no longer moving. His arms wrap around me tightly, and the only sound in the room is our heavy breathing. It’s peaceful, and I temporarily allow myself to forget our mistake that doesn’t feel like a mistake.
Dean could never be a mistake.
How can he be?
He's my first love. My first kiss. My first sexual experience.
He owns all my firsts.
I remember when I thought he’d own all of my lasts, too.
It’s been eleven years since I’ve seen him, and sometimes it feels like no time has passed. Sometimes I think he knows me better than I know myself, and that thought is scary. Sometimes I wish he didn’t know me so well so he wouldn’t know everything I’m thinking and feeling.
Like now.
I’m overthinking our situation, and I need to leave. Dean must know what I’m thinking and planning because his arm tightens around me, and his body tenses.
“Stay.” One word that feels more like a plea rather than a demand. I don’t move. Instead, I remain where I am, wrapped in his warm embrace.
