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“I hate you,” I growled, and he laughed, the sound warming me.
It wasn’t even close to what I wanted. I wanted him to fill me, take away any sense I had of him and me, and fuse us together so all we had was each other.
I thought he would drag this out, make me pay for all the times I’d wound him up. Instead, he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to his chest, holding me so tight against him I could barely breathe. Every part of him moulded around me, even lifting his leg to slot his knee behind mine.
“Why did we wait so long to do this?” he murmured.
Why did he have to sound so sweet? His lips buried in my neck, his thick stubble scratching a jagged path in my skin as he panted against me. Hot and sweaty, our scents mingling under the duvet, pushing and pulsing, melting together.
He ground his hips into me, his cock slipping between my folds. I gave him what he wanted, crying and panting as the tip of his cock hit my clit every time he moved. It wasn’t enough. His strokes had gasps and mewls pouring from me, sounds I barely recognised. I wanted more. I needed him inside me, but I still had to choose. My pleasure or my pride.
The thickness of his cock was driving me crazy. Each time he pushed forward, I could feel myself widening, spreading for him. He could sense the way I tensed each time he moved, his sharp inhales matching mine.
I didn’t want to have to put my trust in him again. He wouldn’t leave me hanging. Teasing was just part of the fun. But I had to let go of something to believe it. That piece of me, the one I’d anchored in the centre of my heart, promising I wouldn’t release, the part that swore I would always protect. It needed to be free if I was to trust him.
He stilled, his cock resting at my entrance. Max was here. We were both ready; all he needed to do was push inside me, and I could let go. He gripped my thigh, his other arm secured around my chest. Every part of us was so tight, fitting perfectly like two of the last pieces in a puzzle.
He was almost there. I could drown out the voice yelling at me to stop as his scent surrounded me, his harsh pants and bites crowding my shoulder, my pussy demanding attention.
It was just once, just one moment where I could ignore all these stupid rules I imposed on myself in the name of safety and protection.
“I’m on the pill.” I gasped the words out through tight lungs.
My eyes squeezed closed, my body ready. I hadn’t taken them for days. I’d been too ill, but I could start again today. It would be fine.
He froze around me, all his muscles tense, his breaths quick and fast. Was he waiting for me to say something else?
“Max.” My voice was rough, aching. I couldn’t wait any longer. “I swear to God I’m going to kill you if you don’t hurry up and fuck me.”
He laughed against my skin, and it rumbled through me. I loved that sound so much. I hadn’t realised how vital it was until his breath tickled my ear.
I was a puddle in his hands, all my defences collapsing. I was aching and needy, every moment turning me on, seconds away from grabbing his cock and taking charge.
I felt him draw in a breath. In the quietest voice, cutting deep into my heart, he whispered, “I love you,” before his grip tightened and he thrust into me.
I screamed through clenched teeth, my hand fisting the pillow. The fine line between pleasure and pain shattered as he consumed me, filling me, destroying me. His words echoed in my ears, but his cries drowned them out. My eyes clouded with tears. It was too much. He was so deep and so close. I was drawing him into me, and it felt like it would go on forever.
He pushed my thigh further up, pressing deeper.
“You’re so wet, baby. Is this for me?”
It was all for him. I bit my lip, trying to hold back, my heart aching. It was always him. There had been others after him, but no one got to me like he did.
He pushed his face into my shoulder, shuddering. “Fuck, you feel so good.”
I wanted to let the tears flow. Everything I’d been holding back was suddenly pouring out. The pain, the loss, the longing, but also the tenderness, the love, the tremors in my heart and stomach when he reached for me. The way he moaned and ground up against me crowded out any fear that I was making a huge mistake.
“I love you, Cat.” he groaned, breaking my heart again.
I turned my face into the pillow, trying to wipe away the tears. I didn’t want to hear it. I couldn’t stand how soft and sweet it was, how I was melting from the inside. I wanted those words tattooed on my heart so they would stay with me forever.
It was pounding on the tip of my tongue.I love you.Each time he pulled out, when his fingers tightened on my thigh as he sank back into me, I wanted to say it. I opened my mouth, but gasping fear gripped me, and I pulled back.
It was the last thing, my last barrier. If I said it, if I told him how deeply he corrupted me, how much he meant to me, I’d be open and weak. I’d have nothing to stop myself from pouring into him, giving him every piece of me. I couldn’t stand the idea of him having so much power over me again.
Like rain wearing down a mountain, he showered me with the sweetest words of love.
By the time he gasped, “Cat, I’m going to come,” I’d reached for my clit, stroking myself, trying to meet him in his pleasure.
