Page 79 of Don't Say You're Sorry

He takes his clothes off—slowly, the bastard—and then he’s on top of me again, his hand closing around the back of my neck as he rubs my hole with the tip of his cock.

“Remember what I taught you? Relax.”

Ah, God. I don’t know if I can.

Still, I do as he says, slowly breathing in and out while I unclench my muscles one by one. He smooths his hand over my shoulders, murmuring gentle words of praise and encouragement.

“Easton,” I plead.

He doesn’t make me wait any longer. He enters me slowly, ensuring I feel every inch of his dick as he stretches me, filling me up.

“Fuck.Fuck.”

“You okay?”

“I’m good,” I rush to assure him. “So good.”

Still, he slows down even more, allowing me time to get used to the size and feel of him. Once he’s fully inside me, he pauses, his fingers clutching my waist and neck.

I wait. And wait. But he doesn’t move. Not a muscle.

“Areyouokay?”

“Yeah, just give me a minute,” he mutters. “I’m trying not to come.”

I laugh, and he groans, smacking my ass. I yelp and clamp my lips shut.

“You ready?” he asks.

I nod fast. He begins fucking me slowly, rocking his hips back and forth. His hands clutch my waist as he adjusts his angle slightly, finding my sweet spot with ease. I whimper, burying my face into the pillow.

“Don’t do that,” he says, lifting my head up by my hair. “Let me hear you.”

“What iftheyhear me?”

“Fuck ’em.”

Fuck Axel, he means.

He picks up the pace, and I couldn’t stay quiet if I wanted to. Every inch of my skin feels as if it’s on fire. My dick is so hard it hurts, dripping precum onto the sheets beneath us.

I almost forgot what this feels like. Three and a half years is a long time, but I was never tempted to fuck anyone else. Not even once. No matter what happened or how much time passed, I always knew I’d end up right back here. This is where I belong. With him. Completely at his mercy. His to do whatever he pleases with.

I only wish I could see him. Wish he could see what he’s doing to me.

His thoughts must mirror mine before he says, “Fuck it. Come here.” His hands fumble as he unties me and flips me onto my back. He takes my wrists and wraps the tie around them, knotting it tight. He doesn’t tie me to the headboard like I expect him to. Instead, he hooks my arms over his head, my arms wrapped around his neck.

He looks down between us and lines himself up, pushing inside me with one quick thrust. He’s not slow or gentle this time. He fucks me hard and fast, his hand around my throat, squeezing with just the right amount of pressure. Hard enough to pin me down, but not hard enough to cut off my airway. I’m caught in a place between pleasure and pain, and I never want it to end.

I clutch the back of his neck, bringing his forehead to mine. “I missed you, baby.”

He glares, but the look in his eyes tells me he’s trying not to smile.

“Did you miss me?” I push.

“No.”

I smirk. “That’s the third lie.”

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