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I tilted my head. ‘You saved my life,’ I whispered, shaken by the veracity of my words. ‘You didn’t even know me and you did that. You’re still doing that. I’m sorry I called you a monster. You’re not a monster. You’re the reason I’m alive.’ And I don’t deserve you.
He moved his thumb along my lips, his gaze shifting between my eyes and my mouth. Something stirred within me and I had the sudden urge to kiss him.
So I did. I placed my hands on either side of his face, his stubble deliciously rough against my cold hands, and leaned down, covering his mouth with mine. He responded immediately, one of his hands fisting my loose hair, the other curling possessively around the back of my neck, pulling me even closer. His tongue met with mine, and a shiver ran down my spine. Our love was electric. Always had been. It was the rest of our lives that was the problem. But right here, right now, in the howling wind, with the metal and glass the only thing between us and the pouring rain, it was almost too easy to pretend that nothing else existed. I melted into him, wanting more, always wanting more. It was like we wanted to devour each other, and maybe one day one of us finally would. But until then, we were here, together, the windows fogging up under the pressure of our heavy breathing and the rain raging on outside. I felt wetness pool between my legs as my heart pounded faster, begging to get closer, to get rid of these annoying layers of fabric that separated us so that we could be together again.
I could feel him beneath me, hard already. Hard for me. And I wanted him. I needed him.
We didn’t even need to speak to know what came next. Ours was a dance so finely tuned, we were in perfect sync. We needed each other like we needed air to breathe, and when time forced us apart, it made the world a dull place. Until we met again. And then sparks flew when we collided.
It had been like this for nine years, and I didn’t ever want it to stop.
He placed both hands on my hips and lifted me off his lap. I braced myself against the steering wheel as he unzipped his jeans and reached into his boxers, gripping his cock with one hand as he brought his other hand up my thigh, underneath my skirt. I moaned softly as he pushed my panties to the side, his fingers pressing against my wetness. I moaned again, louder this time, when he pushed two fingers inside me.
My noise seemed to be enough to drive him over the edge. He slid his fingers from me, and I ached from the sudden loss. I needed him. I needed him inside of me, around me, possessing me in every way, and I needed it now. His mouth found mine again as he jerked me closer, my legs straddling him, the swollen head of his erection pressing impatiently against my entrance.
His hands went to my hips and his fingers dug into my flesh as he pulled me down onto him. His size made me gasp, all the air leaving my lungs as the noises coming from my throat were drowned by our kiss. With agonising slowness, Dornan pulled me down onto him until I was stretched and full with him, ready to explode.
‘Fuck, you’re so wet,’ he groaned, his voice gravel and smoke, his hips continuing to rock, each thrust driving me wild. His hands moved from my hips, down to my thighs, and I flinched as he pressed against the fresh cuts I’d made just hours ago in the bath. He saw me flinch, connected the dots. His entire body stilled; though I could tell he was desperate to keep slamming up into me, his eyes demanded answers. He pulled the hem of my skirt up to my belly so I was completely exposed to him, scars and all.
‘Mariana,’ he said in a strangled voice. ‘What did you do?’
I closed my eyes, fresh tears pricking at them, demanding release. ‘Nothing,’ I breathed.
I felt one of his hands wind around my long hair and tug, forcing my face to his.
‘Open your eyes,’ he murmured.
I did. I opened my eyes to see his own dark eyes staring back, the iris and pupil merging almost seamlessly in the dim light. His eyes looked black, but they were beautiful to me. They were everything.
‘Why?’ he asked. ‘I thought we agreed no more.’
I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to think about it. I just wanted to come undone, to shatter apart with him inside me. I just wanted to forget how fleeting our time together always was. But I had made a promise to him not to cut myself years ago, and I had broken that promise.
I put my hands on his shoulders and started to move again, skin against skin, his hand tightening in my hair.
‘Mariana,’ he demanded. ‘Stop.’
He pulled on my hair to the point of pain. I yelped, stilling.
‘Look at me.’
I didn’t want to look at him. He made me nervous when he spoke like this. I just wanted to fuck and forget. I squeezed my eyes shut.
‘Fuck me,’ I begged. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘No.’ He growled, shaking me. ‘Tell me what this is. Tell me why. You know how many arteries are here? You could have fucking bled to death.’
You could have fucking bled to death. Yeah. I could. And the saddest thing was, he wouldn’t even be the one to find me because he was always somewhere else.
‘You’re gone so long,’ I croaked, opening my eyes again. ‘It was my way of keeping track. You’re always gone for so fucking long.’
His face fell as he studied the cuts on my thighs, his fingertips hovering over the barely healing flesh. ‘That’s what this is?’ he said, his voice thick. ‘You do this until I come back?’ He looked closer. ‘These are the days?’
My cheeks burned with shame as tears fell on them.
‘Baby,’ he said sadly. ‘You know I want to be there every fucking minute with you. You know I can’t live without you. I fucking love you. Only you.’
I nodded, still crying. My orgasm hovered inside me, almost there but not quite, and I wanted release. To not have it was painful. I lifted slightly on top of him and pushed down, and he resumed his almost violent lovemaking, leaning back and grabbing my hips again. He thrust deep inside me, and that was all I needed, that single stroke enough to make me cry out as I came around him. A few seconds later he tensed, his fingers digging into my flesh as he slammed home one more time and spilled himself inside me, hot and wet. We sat, unmoving for a few moments, before I disentangled myself from him and returned to the passenger seat, rearranging my clothes as I went.
