Sixteen #2
Sadie’s breath hitches, a soft gasp escaping her lips as I fill her completely.
The way she moves with me, the way her body pulls me in drives me crazy.
I both want to protect her and claim every inch.
I can’t believe this is real, that we’re crossing a line we can’t uncross, diving into something wild and deep.
“Beckett,” she whispers. She wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me closer. The heat between us grows, and I start to move, slow at first as I savor every delicious moment, the pressure building within us like an impending storm.
With each thrust, I lose myself in the rhythm of our bodies connecting.
Her moans echo in the room, pulling me deeper.
There’s something so beautifully raw about this.
It’s more than just physical. It’s an acknowledgment of all we’ve hidden from each other, the pain and longing that have lingered beneath the surface.
I lean down to capture her lips again, swallowing her gasps as I plunge deeper within her.
As I stare into her lust-filled eyes, a surge of desire courses through me. “When it becomes too much, just tell me,” I growl, my voice hoarse with the effort it takes to maintain some semblance of control.
“Just don’t stop,” she pants, her nails digging into my back.
With her consent, I let go of all my remaining restraints.
I grip her hips and jackhammer in and out of her.
Her breasts bounce with each powerful thrust, and her moans fill the air between us.
It’s an erotic symphony that sends shivers down my spine.
Pumping my hips even harder, I feel myself getting closer to the edge.
Sadie’s breathing becomes more ragged, and I know she’s close.
“Beckett!” she cries out, arching her back as her orgasm washes over her.
She grips me like a vise, spurring me on.
My climax approaches like a freight train, and I can’t hold back.
With one final thrust, I explode inside the condom with a growl, my entire being consumed by the intensity of the release.
I get lost in the rush, the world shrinking to just us. With a deep groan, Sadie clenches around me, pulling every last bit from me. It’s pure fire, so strong that everything else disappears.
Eventually, I pull out, still feeling her warmth, not ready to let go. She rolls to her side, breathless and glowing, her eyes full of heat that makes my heart pound. I’m trying to catch my breath, but the weight of what just happened lingers in the air.
I get up, still buzzing with want, and walk to the bathroom.
The cool tile under my feet helps steady me.
I spot a bit of blood on the condom as I throw it out.
It’s a small thing, but it feels big, like proof of everything that just happened.
She wasn’t a virgin, and it hits me that maybe we were too rough.
I run warm water over a washcloth, then wring it out and head back to her.
Sadie looks up when I return, her eyes soft but fierce. I kneel beside her and gently clean her, each touch slow and careful.
“Beckett,” she whispers, closing her eyes as I glide the cloth along her thighs. “This was…incredible.”
I smile. “It takes two to be incredible.”
“Beckett,” she murmurs, “that was the first time I…you know.” Her cheeks flush again, and a shy smile graces her lips. “I’ve never climaxed with anyone before.”
I freeze, still holding the cloth, and look up at her. “Really?” I ask.
Sadie nods, her eyes shiny with emotion. “I lived with Alex for over a year,” she says, staring down at the sheets. “He used to say I was bad at sex because he couldn’t get hard. And when he did, it was quick. After he was done and asleep, I’d finish myself.”
A rush of anger rises in me. I hate the thought of anyone making her feel that way—like she didn’t matter.
Those nights alone in the dark, left with nothing but disappointment.
She deserved better. She deserves everything.
“That’s not true,” I say, my voice firm as I cup her face in my hands, forcing her to meet my gaze.
“You’re not bad at anything. It was him. ”
Without thinking, I lie down beside her, sinking into the mattress. I’m not usually the type to stay close after sex. It gets messy, too personal. But with Sadie, it feels right. I pull her close, wrap my arm around her shoulders, and let my fingers drift over her warm skin.
“Beckett,” she whispers, curling closer.
I breathe in the scent of her hair, vanilla and something that’s just her. It calms me, even as my heart races. I’ve never liked this part, lying close, getting tangled in something that makes it harder to walk away. But this time, I don’t want to pull back. I want this. I want her .
“You deserve so much better than what he gave you,” I murmur into the quiet space between us, resting my chin atop her head.
Caleb’s face flashes in my mind. My best friend.
The guy who would do anything for me and who asked me to look out for his sister, not sleep with her, not want her like this.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was supposed to keep my distance.
Be the safe place she needed, not the reason she runs again.
I spot dark marks forming where my fingers were.
Small, faint bruises across her hips, her thighs.
And one on her breast. If I can see them now, I know they’ll take ages to fade.
Christ. I didn’t mean to leave them. She never said stop.
Never pulled away. She met me beat for beat—wild and unafraid—and I’d be lying if I said that didn’t light up something dark inside me.
But what if I misread her? What if I crossed a line she was too afraid to draw?
I swallow hard, the back of my throat raw.
After her breathing evens out, I ease out of bed, careful not to wake her.
I stand there watching for a moment. She looks so damn peaceful, like I didn’t just wreck her, leave marks.
Like I haven’t let guilt crawl in and twist something good.
I grab my shirt off the floor and walk out of the room, leaving my mistake behind.