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I was burning up. Wanting. He wasn’t giving me what I wanted, but I still swallowed, waiting for him.
“Love you. Kick ass,” he clipped out. “That’s what you sent me. At the end of a text. When I was already rock hard and trying to keep from losing my shit and storming out of there, hunting you down, and bending you over the nearest counter so I could sink in, knowing your pussy was built only for me. And you send those words to me? ‘Love you. Kick ass.’”
He was angry.
My chest deflated.
I started to try to pull my hands out from his, but I couldn’t move. At all.
He drew back, then thrust back against me, his eyes glazing over for a second before they grew alert once again. His fury crystal fucking clear. “You love me?”
He was still grinding into me, and I forgot all about needing to get away.
Back to panting.
Back to only feeling those sensations he was building in my body.
“Brett, please,” I whimpered, moving back against him and moving with a rush. Yearning for more.
“I asked you a question.” He stopped, breathing harshly over me. “Do you love me?”
My eyes snapped back to his.
He was serious. He was asking me.
At seeing something in me, his whole demeanor softened. He let go of one of my hands, his thumb pressing gently against my bottom lip, rubbing it before falling away. He also softened his tone, asking again, “Do you love me, Billie?”
Fear filled up my chest, and it filled and filled and it kept filling. The pressure there building until I knew it was only a matter of time before I’d break open.
“Yes,” I whispered, the word detonating a dam inside me. All the emotions that’d been rising burst free, and I was saying it, saying it in a rush as if to save my soul, “Yes. I don’t know when it happened. I don’t. Maybe when you caught me from falling, let me ramble about Miss Sylvia Rivera, took me to goat yoga, or when you held me in your arms surrounded by bikers protecting us, or you started following Nellie Bly around and she didn’t know what to do. Or Jesus, maybe it was all the fucking orgasms you gave me and we had to stop one time because I was losing my voice from all the screaming. Or I don’t know, maybe because you brought the sunshine back. And I know that as long as you’re standing next to me, I’ll only feel the sunshine. No matter how dark it might get. I don’t care if you don’t want to hear it.” Tears were sliding down my cheek by now, and I was not meeting his gaze. I couldn’t. I’d shatter when he’d pull away from me.
Why I thought he’d do that, I wasn’t sure.
But he would. I was so very sure of that.
He couldn’t love me. He was angry I’d told him. I had changed everything when I sent that text.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” More tears slid down. I needed to get away. Both of my hands were caught in one of his, and when I tried sitting up, he lay back down over me, holding me in place. “God, no. Please, Brett. Let me go.”
“No,” he roared, deep and primal and low, coming straight from his chest. “I will not let you go.”
I went still again, looking at him.
He relaxed, visibly, when my eyes met his. As he let go of my hands, both of his went to where he had stopped pulling free my leggings. He continued rolling them down my body. His hands worked between our bodies because he wasn’t letting me up as he began, his voice so tender, “You tell me that you love me as an afterthought. Like you’d been feeling that for a long time and kept it to yourself. Kept it to yourself for so long that when it slipped out, it was normal. Comfortable. As if we’d been saying it to each other at the end of our phone calls for months, years even.”
He paused, my leggings down to my knees, and his one thumb began rubbing over my exposed knee. A tingle trailed over my skin from his caress. He readjusted and whisked them off the rest of the way and leaned back into me, rubbing his dick against me, the ache was unbearable.
I wanted him inside me so bad.
But he wasn’t done talking, and he tore his gaze from mine, his head folding as he looked between where he was grinding up and into me, against me. He kept moving, rotating his hips around before pushing, and holding as if he really was inside me to the hilt.
“You think I don’t know what those words cost you?” He caught my gaze again. “You have an entire family who loves you, but you won’t let them have that last bit of ownership over you. That you’re someone’s daughter. That you’re someone’s sister. You're someone’s aunt. They’ve claimed you. They love you the same, it makes no difference to them. It’s you. You won’t let them all the way in, but you love them. I know you do. You can’t let them in, and it bothered me. I couldn’t figure it out. Why wouldn’t you? It wouldn’t make a difference. They wouldn’t change.” He stopped pushing into me and held still, rising up so his hands rested on my hips.
There was so much distance between us now.
I ached from the separation.
His thumbs began moving in circles, rubbing over my skin. “It hit me one day. You loved your mom. She died. You loved your brother. Died. Your friend, dead. Was it just them, baby? Were they the only ones you loved and lost? Were there more?”
