Page 93 of This Life and All the Rest
I stay quiet. I let her think it through. I wait for her words.
“I’m on birth control,” she whispers finally, her voice quaking with something I don’t quite understand.
There’s so much damage between us. So many secrets and broken promises. I should tell her we can wait. I should reassure her and prove to her I’m a better man now.
But in moments like this, I’m not sure I am.
I’m always going to be an addict, and she’s always going to be my greatest temptation. The only addiction worth ruining myself for.
“Are you sure?” I ask, trying like hell to mask the desire in my voice.
She nods and slowly guides my hard cock back to her center.
“I’m so sure,” she says earnestly, rubbing me over her once more before positioning me at her entrance.
She holds eye contact as she pulses her hips upward.
“More sure than I’ve been of anything in years.”
The thread holding my restraint snaps, and I give in. I lean in and kiss her, long and deep, and I push into her slowly, savoring every single inch that we connect. We sigh together, and I hold for a moment, breathing her in. Telling myself that this is real. That we can do this.
And I fall harder.
I move slowly at first, letting us adjust to each other. To breathe in the euphoria. My lips never leave her body. Her hands never leave mine. With every whimper and moan she releases, it gets harder to contain myself.
She starts to move with me, meeting my thrusts, and we speed up. Her breath collides and tangles with mine, our sweat mixes, making our skin slick where our bodies connect.
Her breasts press against my chest. Her hands in my hair. Her legs around my waist.
“You’re perfect,” I rasp against her lips. “You’re so fucking perfect.”
I love you, I want to say.
I love you. I love you.
But I don’t.
I break away from her and rise on my knees, lifting her ass off the bed and digging my hands into her hips.
“Yes,” she cries, and I pound faster. “Macon, please.”
I use my thumb to rub her clit as I fuck her, until she’s quivering and shaking on the edge.
“Come for me,” I say, my voice strained. “Come on my cock. Give me what’s mine.”
She moans and her thighs clamp around me. She slides her hands to her chest and twists her nipples, the silver bars catching the light with a flicker. I rub her clit in circles, and she starts to spasm, coming around me with a breathless hum, then I follow behind her, pulling out just in time to come on her stomach.
Her legs drop to the bed and her eyes are closed as she works to catch her breath. All you can hear is our heavy breathing and the rain pounding the windows outside.
I look her over, memorizing every detail right down to the wet strands of hair on her shoulders and fanned on my pillow. I’ll never be able to sketch anything else. I already know I’ll have entire books dedicated to this Lennon. My Lennon.
“Thank you,” she says quietly after a moment. My stomach churns. My chest tightens.
Thank you, as if this was doing her a favor.
I don’t answer. I get up and grab a washcloth, then wipe down Lennon’s stomach before going to the kitchen to grab us some water. My nerves are shot when I walk back to the bedroom, half expecting to see her ready to leave, but I heave a sigh of relief when I find her fast asleep. Her breathing is deep and even, her face is soft without a trace of worry.
She’s been through a lot today.
