Could being divorced make him more cautious with who he slept with? She had no idea since she’d never been in a relationship serious enough to have a bad breakup.
She got him to focus on her by calling out his name. “Crew.” Once she had his undivided attention, she continued, “You might as well make this worth the guilt you think will eat at you afterward.”
He stuttered to a stop. “Guilt for what?”
“You tell me. I expected for us to go at it hot and heavy. Instead, you’re holding back. You’re scared about something.”
His jaw shifted. “I’m not fucking scared.”
“Well then, fuck me like you aren’t.” She threw down the challenge glove. Would he pick it up?
“Iamfucking you.”
“No. You’re going through the motions but—” She gasped when he slammed into her. “Yes, like that. Because if you don’t want to do this…”
“Shut up, Cami. Just shut the fuck up. Stay out of my goddamn head.”
“Forget my age. Forget who my father is. Concentrate on me. On what you’re doing. Stay in this room and forget everything else.”
“I…” Thrust. “Said…” Thrust. “Shut…” Thrust. “The…” Thrust. “Fuck...” Thrust. “Up.”
She smothered a grin because she had goaded him into getting his head back into the game and back into her bedroom.
To concentrate on what they were doing.
To push past whatever guilt he had. Or the guilt he perceived he would have later.
The soft grunt he added onto the end of each stroke stoked the flames flicking at her core.
“This what you wanted?” he forced past his clenched teeth while continuing to power up and into her.
“Yes,” came out of her on a breath.
“This what you wanted?” he asked again, louder.
“Yessss,” she hissed.
“This what you wanted?” he yelled, her body jolting violently with each slam.
“Yes!” she yelled back. “Don’t stop. Keep going.”
And what did he do? Stop.
What the actual fuck?
“I can’t do this.”
Holy shit.
He was finally present and now he was going to stop and leave her hanging?
Son of a bitch!
“Not like this,” he continued.
“Not like what?”
“This!” he barked.