Chapter 14 #2
"I love you," I murmured against her skin. "I love you so fucking much it scares me. That's why I hid. That's why I built walls. Because loving you felt like standing at the edge of an abyss, and I was terrified of falling."
"You're not going to fall." Her fingers threaded through my hair, tugging gently. "I've got you."
I looked up at her, and something in my chest cracked open. For eight years I'd been trying to protect myself, to maintain control, to keep her at a safe distance where she couldn't hurt me. And all it had done was destroy the best thing I'd ever had.
No more.
I unzipped her jeans and pulled them off along with her underwear, baring her completely to my gaze. She was already wet, glistening in the dim light, and the sight made my mouth water.
"Tell me what you want," I said quietly. "This is your show now, remember? I yield to you."
A wicked smile curved her lips. "I want your mouth on me. I want you to make me come so hard I forget my own name. And then I want you inside me, fucking me until neither of us can think straight."
"Yes ma'am."
I lowered my head and licked a slow stripe through her folds, savoring the taste of her. She cried out, her hips bucking against my face, and I pinned her down with one hand on her stomach while I worked her with my tongue.
I knew her body better than I knew my own.
Knew exactly how she liked to be touched, exactly where to press and suck and tease.
But this time was different. This time I wasn't just trying to make her come.
I was trying to show her how much I loved her, how sorry I was, how completely and utterly devoted I was to making her happy.
I spelled out apologies against her clit with my tongue. Drew promises into her flesh with every stroke and swirl. When I slid two fingers inside her and crooked them just right, she shattered with a scream that echoed through the empty room.
I worked her through the aftershocks, gentling my touch as she came down. Her chest was heaving, her skin flushed and damp, and she looked at me with eyes that were glazed with pleasure and something deeper.
"More," she breathed. "I need more."
I stripped off my jeans and boxers, my cock springing free, hard and aching. Jennifer's eyes dropped to look at me, and she licked her lips in a way that made my brain short-circuit.
"Come here," she said, reaching for me.
I settled between her thighs, the head of my cock nudging against her entrance. I wanted to slam into her, to bury myself so deep she'd feel me for days. But I forced myself to go slow, to savor every inch as I pressed inside.
"Fuck," I groaned when I was fully seated. "You feel so good. So fucking perfect."
"Move." Her nails dug into my shoulders. "Please, Clayton. I need you to move."
I started slow, rolling my hips in a rhythm that made her gasp with every thrust. But she wasn't having it. She wrapped her legs around my waist and pulled me deeper, harder, urging me to lose control.
"I'm not made of glass," she panted. "Stop treating me like I'm going to break. I want to feel you. I want to feel everything."
Something snapped inside me.
I gripped her hips and fucked her hard, driving into her with a force that rattled us both. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mixed with our moans and gasps and desperate pleas. It was raw and primal and nothing like the polished performances I'd been giving her for years.
This was real. This was us. Stripped bare and completely honest for the first time.
Jennifer
He was finally here.
Not the Clayton who held himself back, who rationed his passion like it was something to be conserved. This was the Clayton I'd always known was hiding underneath the surface. Wild and desperate and so consumed with want that he couldn't control himself.
"Harder," I gasped. "God, Clayton, harder."
He obliged, slamming into me with an intensity that stole my breath. His hands were everywhere, gripping my hips, cupping my breasts, fisting in my hair to angle my mouth for a bruising kiss. He was claiming me, marking me, reminding both of us who I belonged to.
"Tell me you're mine," he growled against my lips. "Tell me you're never leaving again."
"I'm yours." The words came out broken, scattered between thrusts. "I've always been yours, you idiot. Even when I hated you, I was still yours."
He made a sound like I'd wounded him and drove deeper, hitting a spot that made stars explode behind my eyes. I was close, so close, my whole body wound tight like a spring about to snap.
"I love you," he gasped. "I love you, I love you, I love you. I'm sorry, Jen. I'm so fucking sorry for everything."
"Show me." I dug my nails into his back hard enough to leave marks. "Stop apologizing and show me."
He reached between us and found my clit, rubbing in tight circles while he fucked me with relentless precision. The dual sensation was too much, overwhelming, and I shattered with a scream that echoed through the empty room.
Clayton followed me over the edge a moment later, burying himself deep and coming with a groan that vibrated through both of us. I felt him pulse inside me, hot and endless, and the intimacy of it made tears prick at my eyes.
We lay there in the aftermath, tangled together on the hardwood floor, both of us breathing hard. His head was resting on my chest, his ear pressed against my heart, and I ran my fingers through his damp hair while I waited for the world to stop spinning.
"That was..." He trailed off, apparently unable to find words.
"Yeah." I smiled against the top of his head. "It was."
He propped himself up on his elbow to look at me, his hazel eyes soft with wonder. "I don't deserve you."
"Probably not." I traced a finger along his jaw, feeling the stubble rasp against my skin. "But you've got me anyway. So what are you going to do about it?"
"Spend the rest of my life making it up to you." He turned his head to press a kiss against my palm. "Every day. For as long as you'll let me."
"That sounds like a good start."
We lay there in comfortable silence for a while, the city lights washing over us through the windows. It felt strange, being in this house that was no longer ours, surrounded by emptiness where our life used to be.
But maybe that was appropriate. We were starting over, after all. Building something new from the ashes of what we'd destroyed.
"I have conditions," I said finally.
Clayton's lips quirked. "I thought you might."
"Weekly check-ins. Non-negotiable. We sit down, we talk about how we're feeling, we address anything that's bothering us before it festers."
"Done."
"Therapy. Couples counseling. I don't care how uncomfortable it makes you. We're doing it."
"Already planned to suggest that myself."
"And Grace." My voice hardened on the name. "I don't ever want to hear her name again. I don't want to see her at events. I don't want to know she exists."
"She's already ruined." Clayton's jaw tightened.
"After the podcast, her clients started dropping like flies.
Apparently nobody wants a PR consultant who secretly records vulnerable conversations and uses them as leverage.
" A grim satisfaction crossed his face. "She's done in this city. In any city that matters."
"Good." I felt a petty flash of pleasure at the news. "She deserves worse."
"She does. But I don't want to waste any more energy on her." He propped himself up further, looking down at me with an intensity that made my breath catch. "I only want to focus on you. On us. On becoming the husband you deserved from the beginning."
"Then do it." I reached up and pulled him down for a kiss, softer this time. "No more talking. Just doing."
"Yes ma'am."
Clayton
We made love again on the floor of our empty living room, slower this time. Gentler. I mapped every inch of her body with my hands and mouth, relearning the curves and hollows I'd been taking for granted for years.