Page 63 of The One Who Won’t Get Away
“Smooth,” I said, but my voice cracked.
He grinned, gaze flicking from my face to my chest, then his hands were on me.He started gentle, thumbs brushing the sides, warm palms kneading as if he was mapping the shape, but the gentleness lasted seconds.His mouth landed on my nipple, and the world pinwheeled.I forgot about my shirt, about the past, about every dumb rule I’d set for myself.I gasped, fingers in his hair, arching up against his tongue.He moved to the other one, using the blunt edge of his teeth.The jolt went straight to my thighs.
I clawed at his shirt, desperate to even the playing field, and he let me, breaking contact just long enough to help get his arms out of the sleeves, then he went right back to kissing down my body, slow and deliberate.
He got to my waistband and hesitated.His hands splayed wide, pressing into my hips.“This okay?”he said.
“Fuck yes,” I answered, and then he had my jeans undone and sliding down my legs.
They bunched at my knees, so I kicked them off, and he laughed, mouthing the inside of my thigh.His stubble scraped along my skin, making me shiver.He traced the edge of my underwear with his nose.The sound I made was embarrassing, but damn, this felt too good.I buried my hands in his hair and forced him closer, greedy for him.
He took the hint, inching the underwear down and off, then settling between my knees.He took a moment just to look, making me burn under his gaze.I was naked, trembling, and fully exposed, yet there was no place I’d rather be.No person I’d rather be with.
Then his mouth was on me, and I lost all ability to care about anything except what he was doing.He was slow at first, and so, so careful.He read every twitch, every catch of breath, and adjusted to it, alternating between tongue and lips, mixing it up so I never quite knew what was coming next.He pinned my thighs open with his arms, hands under my ass, lifting me toward him.I ground my hips up, desperate for more.
He chuckled against me, and the vibration was almost enough on its own.“Impatient,” he murmured, the sound muffled.
“Don’t tease,” I managed, but I barely got it out before my back arched and my fingers curled into the bedding.The tension inside me snapped, sudden and sharp and perfect.The world went white.
I came with a sound that would’ve embarrassed me if I hadn’t already surrendered all shame.He kept going through it, drawing it out until I was quivering and pushing at his shoulders, breathless and oversensitive.
He kissed up my stomach and then climbed over me, bracing himself on his elbows so his weight wouldn’t crush me.His face was flushed, eyes dark and wild, hair sticking out everywhere.
I wanted to say something, to make a joke, but my brain melted.Instead, I pulled him down and kissed him, deep and messy, tasting myself on his mouth.He groaned into me, then felt blindly around the bedspread for the condom I’d seen him toss there earlier.
He held it up.“Should I?”he said, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.
I almost laughed, but it came out as a whimper.“Please.”
He rolled it on, hands slightly shaking.He was always so put together it was a thrill of its own to see him this frantic and eager as he positioned himself.When he hesitated for that heartbeat, I grabbed him by the back of the neck and dragged him down to me, hooking my ankles behind his legs.I wanted him.All of him.
He sank inside in one slow, steady slide, and the air left my lungs.I’d forgotten how right it felt with him.Not just the sex itself— I could find that easy enough— but the way he made me feel whole again.
He kept his eyes on me, one hand tangled in my hair, the other on my hip, anchoring me to the bed, holding me like he thought I might vanish.His breath brushed hot against my ear, and he kept whispering my name, low and rough, as if he couldn’t believe I was real.I dug my heels into his ass, urging him on, wanting to feel every bit of him.
There was no talking after that, just sweat and skin and the slap of our bodies.It didn’t last long—I was too worked up, and he must’ve been holding back for a while because he came hard, fingers bruising into my hip, jaw clenched.
He collapsed on top of me, just long enough to catch his breath, then rolled us so we lay side by side, limbs tangled, his arm thrown over my waist.
I felt okay.Better than okay.I felt...normal.Like maybe I wasn’t ruined after all.
Sex had always been about more than pleasure for me.It was a dare.I dared to try and not have flashbacks.I dared to be normal.I dared to enjoy it.
Every time, I would compare now to then.Was the guy the wrong kind of possessive?Did he only care about himself?Was he gentle?Did he respect my boundaries?
I hadn’t thought about that with Nick.It was just the two of us, with no past encroaching on the moment.
Except...Wasn’t I comparing now?Maybe not to...to then, but still, I was comparing sex with him to sex with all the other men who had come before.
I might’ve compared him to back then, as well.He was a touch possessive, but in a good way.There was a possessiveness where the person was treated as a possession, but Nick never made me feel that way.He made me want to be his.
Or how about this for a comparison; Nick was perfect, and I was a perfect mess.I couldn’t even enjoy this bliss for five minutes before my mind started spiraling.My heart spiked for a different reason now—panic, not pleasure.The memory of the nights I slept with Nick flashed through my head: the nightmares, the thrashing, elbowing him.
I wasn't normal.This could never work.He should find someone better.
I scooted away an inch, but he felt it.Of course he did.
He let me go, but kept his arm on the bed between us, palm up and open, like an invitation if I ever wanted to take it.
