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“Oh,” I whimper when he starts to rub in gentle circles.
“Does that feel good?” he murmurs against my lips.
My hips move involuntarily with his hand. “So good.”
He moves down to brush his fingertip over my opening. “Jesus, Ella, you’re so wet. I need to see you come.” His thick finger slides inside, and I groan at the sensation.
I could come from this, but when I reach down his boxers to grip his hard cock, a finger isn’t enough. I sit up and toss off my shirt. My shorts and panties quickly follow.
He rolls onto his back when I nudge him, and watches while I pull his boxers off. Straddling him, I stroke his cock, loving the feel of the smooth, heated skin.
He runs his hands up and down my thighs. His chest rises and falls faster when I scoot up and rub his tip at my entrance. “Look at me, Ella,” he orders, and I watch his mouth fall open as I slide down on his cock.
It’s been a while, and I can’t take it all the first time. Raising myself up and back down, I close my eyes, reveling in the feel of him stretching me. His hands run over my back then press me forward until he can suck my nipple between his lips. My pussy contracts around him and he groans.
It feels so good. I sit back up and ride him. Slowly. Every slide of his cock inside me feels better than the last. The room, the music, everything around me fades away. It’s bliss. Glorious peace and growing pleasure.
Strong arms lock around me, and I’m rolled over onto my back. My eyes pop open and I’m met with an intense stare. I cry out when his thrusts resume. My legs wrap around him, and I claw at his ass, trying to get him deeper, faster.
I’ve lost all control. Every stroke of his cock drags over that sensitive spot, making me cry out as the pressure builds to overwhelming.
His voice is deep and raspy in my ear. “Are you going to come for me, Ella?”
“Oh fuck, yes!” The orgasm starts in waves of sensation, growing stronger by the second, and spreading to every inch of my body until I almost can’t bear it. I see his face as he hits his climax at the same time, his mouth falling open.
“Oh, yes, Alden!” I’m holding onto him, digging my fingers in while my body pulses and thrums. My eyes squeeze shut while I ride it out.
When the orgasm fades, I open my eyes, and he looks down at me. The devastation in his expression is something I’ll never forget. My brain takes a second to catch up to what I did, and the horrifying realization hits me as he slides out of me.
I called him Alden. He asked me to come for him, and I yelled Alden’s name when I did. Without saying anything, he gets up and walks to his bathroom.
What the fuck is the matter with me? I came in here to comfort him. Instead, I fucked him and called him by his dead brother’s name. I’ve never been this ashamed in my entire life. The shower turns on in the bathroom while I’m frantically dressing.
The urge to run to my room and act like this never happened is strong, but I can’t do that to him. Instead, I sit on the edge of the bed trying to find the right words to say. He stays in there so long I wonder if he’s hoping I’ll leave. I don’t know what to do. Why do I have to be so fucked up?
Finally, he walks out with a towel around his waist. Anything I planned to say is gone the second I see him and all I can do is rush to throw my arms around him. “I’m sorry, Oliver. I didn’t mean to say that. I don’t know why…I’m sorry.” My voice cracks on the last word, and I swallow, fighting back tears.
He takes a deep breath and strokes the back of my head. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. Not even a little bit. I don’t know what else to say. I’m fucked up.”
He looks down at me when I step back. “We’re both fucked up. I’m not upset at you.”
I’m pissed enough at myself for ten people. I’m not sure what to feel first. The guilt for fucking Alden’s brother, for liking it, or for hurting such a sweet man who has already been through too much.
“I’m going to go back to my room.”
“Don’t. I want you to stay.”
There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him right now. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” I nod my agreement and a small grin tilts his lips. “You’re going to have to let me get to my dresser to get some underwear.”
“Oh, right. I’m going to use the bathroom.” I duck into the bathroom to get cleaned up, but I don’t let myself linger. My head is too full. If I start crying now, I may never stop.
Oliver waits for me in his bed and embraces me when I join him. Despite the confusion that’s eating at me, this doesn’t feel wrong. His arms around me are comforting and warm. Tomorrow, I can face the guilt of the many ways I fucked up tonight. Right now, I need this as much as he does.
Oliver said the gunshots echoed. They did. In that convenience store, in his nightmare, in our lives. My fear is the same as his. What if they never stop echoing?
