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Without missing a beat, he deftly flipped me around so I was on my back, reverse cowgirl. He lifted my knees slightly and entered me, fucking me deep and hard and with brutal passion, the full length of his cock ramming in and out of me like a sword that had found its sheath.
I was going to come again. I grasped at the seats in front, my mouth gaping as he stole my sheer ability to breathe. His log sluiced in and out, driving me there sooner than I'd expected.
"Oh, fuck," he cried, his voice hoarse. "I'm coming. Can't hold—I'm gonna come, Junie!"
But I was already drowning in my own orgasmic torrent. I was fucking flying in another celestial plane, lifted by his relentless fucking and his furious grunts as he throbbed and began releasing searing waves of his release into me.
I felt his load fill my womb and gave in, mind, body, soul, all. He fucked me as I came. He fucked me even as I milked his cock with spasms, and he came inside me again and again.
And as he slowly began winding down, I pressed back into him, breathing hard, full of his cock and his seed.
"Junie," he whispered, kissing my shoulders and the back of my neck. "Junie."
His voice was a low Southern song calling me back home, taking me to places I'd only ever gone in my sweetest dreams. Reed. I loved him.
I could see it then. I wanted all of them differently. We met and came together in unbridled passion, and we reveled in it, but Reed and I... it was as if there was something age-old here, deep, rooted, and agonizingly sweet.
He gently lifted me off him. I leaned forward to the front seat and retrieved what I could. I couldn't find my panties, so I slipped the rest on and handed his jeans back to him. We worked in silence, and nothing felt awkward—although this was the most public, most vulnerable thing I'd ever done. I'd shared myself with three beautiful men, but in my wildest dreams, I'd never pictured I'd make love to someone in the back alley of a deserted segment of my own hometown.
Reed looked at me as I sat back and sighed. "Hey, you okay?" he asked, his tone low and gentle.
I smiled. "I'm more than okay. I think I ... I really like you, Reed."
The words just slipped out. Maybe they could have been more eloquent. Maybe ... but nothing else would have felt this natural, thisus.
Reed, however, said nothing. And when I turned to look at him, wondering why he'd gone so quiet, he had a very dark look in his eyes. It was unlike anything I'd seen in them this evening, and I'd seen a lot flit through that ocean of blue.
Suddenly, I felt like a little girl lost in a very big carnival.
I wanted to cry, and I couldn't understand it.
Why wouldn't he tell me anything? Had I... shouldn't I have...
Reed swallowed.
"Can I tell you something?"
27
Reed
Iwanted to tell her I loved her. I loved her with a fierceness I hadn't felt in a fucking age. But I couldn't. I just couldn't.
"Can I tell you something?" I asked, my throat suddenly aching like I'd scraped it against a cactus.
"Anything," she whispered, reaching out to touch my arm.
"I got diagnosed with PTSD a few years ago. And since then ... Junie, you make me feel like I could live in the sun after spending a lifetime in a dungeon. But I don't know if I can say any more than that. I'm sorry."
How had I even told her my diagnosis? The only people in the world who knew about this, except my therapist, were Asher and Miguel. I never shared it because it made me vulnerable.
Because it hurt to think that someone could look at me and think, "He's just broken."
But she didn't look at me like she thought that at all. In fact, there was so much fierceness in that gaze—it was like she wanted to tell me she understood and that it would all be okay.
It made me feel worse about what I was doing.
Her eyes changed. From soft green, they became more matte, and then, the light in them just deepened. I was surprised. I'd expected her to give me hell for this.
