Chapter Twenty-Three
brISTOL
Rhys captures my lips with his, my arms wrapping around his neck as he kisses me senseless.
My heart thunders behind my ribcage, emotions running through me, mingling and fighting for dominance.
My body can’t decide if I want to cry, or laugh, or scream.
I’m not lying when I say the words he begs for.
I’m his. Irrevocably. Unconditionally. Eternally.
I’ve never experienced anything like this before. It’s transcendent. Life-changing. Like everything in my life has led me to this single point, this one man, and now it’s all snapped into place. I’m connected to Rhys in a way that I couldn’t fathom before now.
“Fuck, my love, you feel so good wrapped around me. Look at how well you take me.” God, his dirty mouth. I never thought I would enjoy dirty talk, but the way Rhys is constantly reassuring me . . . praising me . . . it’s everything I didn’t know I needed.
He’s so in tune with my body, in tune with me, that I’m having my needs met without having to vocalize them. His gorgeous body hovers over me, his hips picking up speed as he pistons into my center. He’s so big, stretching me wide around him, but I’ve never loved anything more.
Except for maybe his mouth.
His skin is clammy and cool under my touch. My mouth salivates as he moves over me, and I can’t help but give in to my baser instincts, leaning forward and trailing my tongue along his collarbone, his sweat salty and oh so manly.
“Jesus Christ, baby. You feel perfect. You’re perfect. Such a good girl for me, letting me take you outside under the stars. Let the world hear you scream my name as you come for me.”
He sits up on his knees then, hooking his arms under my knees and lifting my ass off the ground. He stays deep, never pulling out as he lifts me up and down on his cock, dragging my clit over his pelvis. Everything feels like it’s on fire, like I’ve been jump-started and brought back from the dead.
Pleasure like I’ve never experienced before spreads through my body before I combust. My pulse flutters wildly, my body responding before my mind has. Wave after wave of pleasure rushes through me until I am left with shaky legs, my heart beating rapidly, and my breath ragged.
“There it is. That’s it. Come for me, pretty girl, let me feel you shatter.”
I scream out his name into the dark, endless night, my body ravaged in a way it never has been before.
“Oh fuck, Bristol. That’s it, my love, come all over my cock.
You’re taking me with you. Shit.” Rhys comes with a guttural, drawn-out moan that embeds itself into my soul.
His hips stutter as he holds me close and stays deep.
I can feel the power of his orgasm as his dick throbs between my sensitive walls.
His arms strain, and I wish so badly I could see the bulging veins in his thick, corded forearms.
Rhys collapses down on top of me, bracing himself up on one forearm as his other threads through my hair, brushing the strands out of my face. I’m sure I look thoroughly wrecked.
“You’re an exceptional creature, my love, and I’m so incredibly obsessed with you.”
“Rhys, I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but you, that, what we just did, I’ve never . . .” I ramble on, at a complete loss for words.
“Wow,” he chuckles, the vibrations flowing through me. “I made you speechless. That’s a pretty hefty compliment.”
“It should be. I’ve never experienced anything like this before.”
“Me either. I know I’ll never experience it with anyone else. You’re it for me, Bristol. My endgame. My heart beats for you.”
Rhys kisses me slowly and languidly, like we have all the time in the world. And right now, in this meadow under the stars, the outside world doesn’t exist. It’s just me and this incredible man. We stay like that, with his length softening inside me, until the wind chills my bones.
“You’re cold,” he whispers as he kisses my forehead and then my nose. He slips from my body, taking all the warmth with him. I shiver again, attempting to sit up, when his strong hand presses flat against my chest. “No, baby, let me clean you up.”
I watch as Rhys uses his shirt, oh so gently wiping down my inner thighs and then my intimate area.
It’s so tender, so sweet. When he’s finished, he helps me sit up, pulling my shirt back over my head.
I can say wholeheartedly that I’ve never been treated with such care.
Rhys pulls off the condom, tying it off before helping me finish getting dressed.
When I stand to pull my jeans up, I notice the large, cool wet spot on the inside of his vest I was lying on.
Jesus Christ. I must have gushed all over the damn thing. Horror washes over me.
“Your vest, Rhys, I’m so sorry, I made such a mess, oh my god,” I ramble as I bury my head in my hands.” Rhys is right there, gripping my wrists and forcing them down. He pinches my chin between his forefinger and thumb, gently guiding my head backward to look up and meet his eyes.
“That ‘mess’ is proof that what we just did was real. I’m not going to wash it, or clean it, and I’m going to wear it proudly knowing the first time I felt your tight pussy around me was on top of it.
I fucking love the mess we just made, and I’d do anything for a repeat. Preferably in the light of day.”
If he wasn’t holding onto my chin, my mouth would drop open at his words. Why is that so hot to me?
“I never would have guessed you’d have such a mouth on you, Rhys . . .” I stumble, realization hitting me. “God, I don’t even know your last name.”
“Hudson. Rhys Michael Hudson. I’m thirty-two years old, never had an STD, was tested the day after I met you, I haven’t been with anyone since I laid eyes on your beautiful face and knew you were it for me, I’ll always wrap it up until you decide you want me bare—full well knowing the intent would be to put my baby inside you—and I’d never, ever, do anything to purposefully make you uncomfortable. ”
My chest cracks wide open, my knees shaking, my lip trembling, and not from the chill outside.
There’s so much to dissect there that I don’t even know where to begin.
Is that what being with a real man is like?
Rhys makes everyone who came before him look like selfish, fumbling assholes.
Or maybe this is just how a man truly in love behaves.
In love. Is that what this is? Even as I think the question, I know the answer. I’m in love with him.
“I’ll get tested. I have only been with Blake, and he’s always worn protection.
But I . . .” My voice clogs up, not wanting to continue.
This man hasn’t been with anyone since he met me because he was so confident in what he felt, but I slept with Blake, even when my heart wasn’t in it with him, even though he degraded me and made me feel used and pathetic.
How stupid of me to think our problems could be fixed with sex.
Shame washes over me, and of course, Rhys reads my thoughts and feelings without me speaking them into existence.
“Hey, you’re engaged. You think I didn’t expect that you’d be sleeping with your fiancé? There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Bristol.”
God, he still thinks I’m engaged. Which, I guess, according to Blake, I still am. But as far as I’m concerned, I’m not.
“You aren’t mad?”
“That another man was touching you? Baby, I’m livid.
The idea alone makes me want to burn cities to the ground.
But I’m confident that no one has ever touched you the way I have, that you’ve never felt what you do for me with anyone else.
I don’t need to hear the words to know the truth.
I can feel those things and not be upset with you.
I can know these things and still understand it. I’d never judge you, Bristol.”
“I don’t deserve you. No one does.”
“You’ve got it all wrong; it’s that no one is deserving of you.
” My heart does that thing in my chest again, tumbling over before picking up speed.
Everything in my body is screaming to not walk away from him, to stay put, to unload all my problems and new fears at his feet and ask for help.
But I can’t bring myself to do it. I’ve found myself in a terrifying situation, and I’m letting fear hold the reins.
I can’t be the reason everything I love dies.
I’m so scared of Blake following through with his threats. I can’t put that on Rhys.
The only reason I’ve been able to come here at night is that Blake has been working out of the house for days, stumbling into bed at four in the morning, reeking of scotch.
He’s been too drunk to try anything physical with me, but the moment he gets home, fear floods my system, and I lie next to him in a paralyzed state of shock.
I’ve spent countless hours replaying the night I told him I was leaving.
I should have seen Blake for what he truly is.
A monster. I’m terrified to leave, not knowing what Blake is truly capable of.
I couldn’t live with myself if this wonderful man or any of the people he loves got hurt because of me.
If the shelter closed, or worse . . . burned down.
I’m not worth the trouble. Even if Rhys would probably argue that until his dying breath.
“I need you to talk to me, love.”
God, he looks so solemn, so concerned. We stand there, shrouded in darkness, miles of meadow and woods between us and society, and all I really want to do is step into his big, warm arms and beg him to take me away from it all.
Everything I want? It’s standing in front of me; I just can’t take it.
But I also can’t leave here and let him think that I’m in love with Blake.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, I open up. As much as I can.