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Some other paper-thin thread in me snaps and leaves me feeling like it might be the final thread. Like I’m completely, utterly broken inside as I smash my fist into the wall above us.
22
Erica
Riley stills on top of me. He’s still inside me. He’s fisting the sheets with his now scraped knuckles, and I see anguish slashed across his features. He looks into my eyes for a long, exposed beat before he looks away.
“Fuck,” he says gruffly and then he rolls to his back, taking me with him.
He’s still inside me.
As much as I know the biology, the meaning behind what we just did… the knot, the bite…nothing could have prepared me for the reality.
I prop myself up with my elbows so I can look at his face. His bleeding hand shields his eyes as he blows out a long breath.
His body language right now? He’s unhappy. Supremely.
“Um…” I start.
He grinds his teeth and still doesn’t take his hand away from his eyes.
“Riley?” I inquire, barely whispering. He’s bleeding. He might want ice for his hand.
“We have to wait a minute for it to go down.”
“It?”
“My knot.”
“Oh.”
And I know now that he’d be pulling away if he could. But he can’t. And now pain slashes through me.
My vagina feels like it’s on fire. That was rough. Painful. But I wouldn’t change it. Because it was Riley. Riley and me and it probably won’t happen again. I saved it and gave it to him. It was his, nobody else’s. And despite everything, I’m glad it went to him.
Yeah, it hurt. A lot. But then it felt good. And rough. But more good than anything. I felt sensations I didn’t know my body had the capacity to feel. And feeling him? Touching him? Being touched by him? What a trip.
I’m very aware of our bodies touching. Skin-to-skin. But instead of basking in the afterglow of giving my virginity to the man I’ve loved for ten years, the man I was destined to be with, the man I’ve hurt beyond repair… I get to feel raw and on the verge of empty, knowing I’m about to be empty because he can’t wait to pull out of me, away from me. He’s so angry he just put his fist through the wall while still inside me.
This hurts.
He lifts his hand and looks into my eyes. I don’t know how to read what I’m seeing. Regret. He regrets this.
Mason’s words of earlier ring in my ear. “Biology.”
That’s what this was. He was driven by biology and now that it’s over, he wants to push me away. But we have to wait for his knot to go down first.
Well, this is awkward. And immensely fucking sad. My chin wobbles and I do my best to stop the tears from flowing.
There’s a long beat of silence before I jerk in surprise because it’s vibrating again. Riley’s back arches and I can’t take my eyes off the smokin’ hot look of pleasure on his face while feeling it myself. That knot is buzzing against a sensitive bundle of nerves inside me again and my muscles are contracting around it. We let out twin moans as I bury my face into his shoulder and he grips a handful of my hair, moaning out loudly, masculinely. Holding me tight.
This is what I’ve been holding out for. It really fucking hurt at first, but then it transcended into something ethereal. Something otherworldly. Something magical.
I’ll never be the same. Never.
I also know that although he’s feeling physical sensations, I can tell he’s not remotely near the same metaphysical space as me. I can only imagine he wants to fly through another window; he’d just burst through the roof if he could fly – anything he could do to flee the witch that betrayed him. Because despite the biological response that made him mate with me, Riley Savage hates me.
***
It goes on so long and so intensely that when the vibrating finally stops, I’m utterly exhausted. He tries to position me on my side, but it isn’t comfortable for me since he’s much larger than me, so sensing this in an eye lock where I know he reads my discomfort, he rolls to his back, and I flop listlessly on top of him, tucking my head under his chin.
“How long until it lets go?” I finally ask.
He’s so warm. So comfy to lie on. I feel like I could lie here forever.
His answer is just an exasperated breath.
“It’s not supposed to do this, is it?” I ask a few minutes later, daring to look up at his face.
“No,” he says, not looking at mine, looking off to the side. He can’t even bear to look at me.
And lying here like this, there’s nothing I can do but rest my head on his shoulder and fall asleep.
