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He leans down and licks his way into my mouth, biting painfully onto my bottom lip as he pummels my ass, and I just take it, like the winner I am.
I can give him this. I can always give him this.
“Don’t ever fucking make me leave again,” he groans as he picks up the pace, my cheeks wet from tears as he pounds into me. The bed creaks and rocks beneath us, knocking into the wall with each thrust.
My hands thread through his hair and I pull him into me, crashing our lips together once more. I don’t want him to remind me of my faults. I want him present with me here. This is my apology, me begging for forgiveness.
I’m sorry, Quinn, I think as he fucks me, pushing me over the edge.
My orgasm crests as I explode across my abdomen, and Quinn lets out a strangled groan and follows me over, filling me up completely.
I twitch beneath him, coming down from the high of being fucked like that, of being pummeled so damn good. My body is so sore, wrung out, and impossibly ready to go again.
I stare up at him longingly and his gaze slams into mine, a collective shuddered breath escaping us at the same time.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my throat hoarse from screaming.
He lowers his lips to my cheek. “I know. I am too.”
We just stare at one another until he slips out of me, leaving me feeling distraught and empty.
He sits up and runs a hand through his messy hair.
“I didn’t come here for that,” he says, and I let out a shaky breath. “I really didn’t.”
“I know.”
“But I saw you and I couldn’t help myself. Even after what happened, I still find you sexy as fuck.”
I swallow and wet my lips, wanting him to come back, to hold me.
He’s silent for a minute, his hands fisting the comforter.
“Do you want me to go?” he asks, his voice cracking, and I shake my head.
“Stay.”
That word. That fucking word. I should have said it before he left me in the UP. I should have said it sooner.
“Stay and shower with me,” I tell him and sit up, my cum sliding down my chest and pooling on my limp dick. He watches it, his eyes darkening. Oh, he still wants me. Even after he’s had me.
That’s a good fucking sign. I can work with that.
“Yeah, okay,” he murmurs.
I don’t waste a second. I stand up on shaky legs, my ass twinging as I walk to the en suite and turn on the shower. As soon as it’s warm, I pull him inside, under the spray.
We stand facing each other, our eyes locked. He reaches out, his hands sliding up my chest, one coming to rest on my cheek, the other on my shoulder.
“You need to shave,” he says, and I let out a huff.
“Guess so.”
His fingers scrape through my facial hair. “Although, you do look good all rugged like this. I kind of like it.”
“I can leave it, for you,” I say softly, my eyelids drooping as he scours his fingers up and through the hair at the side of my head. Probably need to get a haircut too.
“I’ll have to think on it,” he says and then pulls my head down so his lips can settle on mine. He kisses me softly, pressing into me, pulling moans from my mouth. “You’re perfect any which way.”
