Page 49 of Don't Say You're Sorry

“Don’t.” Releasing one of his hands, I grab his jaw and turn his face until he’s looking at me again, my hand sliding down to his throat. “Don’t say you’re sorry for this.”

I kiss him again, slower this time, more exploratory, trying to memorize every inch of his mouth, to figure out what he likes, what makes him moan, what makes his body jerk against mine?—

When I suck on his tongue again, he bucks his hips and moans into my mouth. I grin.There it is.

I lace our fingers together beside his head as he rocks up into me, his free hand grabbing my ass to pull me down with every thrust. He’s hard—I can feel it—and he damn well knows I am too, our cocks grinding through layers of clothes.

Tightening my grip on his throat, I kiss him like he belongs to me, as if I’ve kissed him a thousand times before and I’ll do it a thousand times more. But I make every second count, knowing I might never get another shot at this.

Rolling my hips, I dry-fuck him and lightly choke him at the same time, my teeth latched onto his damp, swollen lip. His hand comes up to my wrist, and he holds on for the ride, letting me take control. Letting me own him, even if it’s just pretend.

When I pull back a little to look at his face, his eyes are rolled up and his mouth is parted with a silent scream. He’s coming, and it’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.

“God, baby,” I rasp, squeezing his throat a little harder. “Don’t try to stop it. Let it happen.”

He moans loudly, and I drop my mouth to his, muffling his sounds.

He arches his back, his legs tightening around my hips, and I slow my pace before I come too, waiting for his body to stop shaking.

Once he’s done, he sinks into the bed and blinks at me, looking stunned and blissed out and amused all at once.

“You all right?” I ask cautiously.

He laughs under his breath and nods.

Widening his legs, he pulls his hand out of my grip and reaches down between us, his hands fumbling as he tries to unbutton my jeans. Still pinning him by his throat, I grab his wrist to stop him. “No.”

“No?” he echoes, confused. “Did you come?”

I shake my head, amused by the little pout on his lips. But then that pout turns into a frown, and I see the exact moment he panics, wrongly assuming I regret what just happened.

“It’s not because I don’t want to, you idiot.”

He scowls. “But?”

“But we shouldn’t have done that.Ishouldn’t have done that. We need to stop now.”

More scowling. “Youdoregret it.”

“No.”

“Prove it.” He lifts his chin up in defiance, wearing my hand like a necklace. “Kiss me.”

I drag my bottom lip through my teeth to hide my smile, lowering my face until our mouths brush. “I’ll kiss you, suck you, rim you, fuck you, and come in your little virgin ass if that’s what you want. That’s whatIwant. But only when you’re sober.”

He lies there speechless as I stand. I grab the TV remote while I adjust my needy dick in my jeans. Adam watches me, a beautiful flush on his face as he stares at me as if I’m someone he’s never met before. When he catches me staring at him, he pushes himself up to sit, before he stands too.

“Where are you going?”

He halts on his way to the door. “To clean up and get changed.”

“No.”

“No?”

“Take those off.” I tip my chin at his clothes.

He obeys without question, which pleases me more than it should. While he removes his hoodie, shirt, and jeans, my mouth waters at the sight of his body, my teeth clenching with the urge to bite him, to bruise him, to leave my marks all over him.

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