50. Two thrusts forward, three thrusts back
Chapter 50
Two thrusts forward, three thrusts back
TOMER
A voice whispers in the back of my mind, reminding me to go slow. Take it easy on her. Be gentle. I recognize it as the voice of reason.
The problem I’m having is a much louder and more insistent voice is roaring in my psyche, telling me to claim her. Own her. Worship her and command her body. Remind her she belongs to me. Ensure she never forgets how right it feels when we can’t tell where I end and she begins.
Down in the lobby, I told her I’d tell her the truth and answer all her questions if she invited me to her room. I meant it then and still do now. In no way had I planned to distract her with sex.
However, I don’t make the rules of physics. Two incendiary elements will eventually ignite in the right conditions.
Running my fingers through her silky hair, I pile it up on her head and keep it there with one hand, holding my cock out for her with the other. She slips the condom on exactly like I taught her all those months ago.
Air hisses through my gritted teeth. “That’s it, my sweet girl. Just like that.”
Once she’s rolled it to the base, I bite back a moan at the feel of her hand encircling me, pumping and squeezing.
I wrap the ends of her hair around my wrist, tugging down to force her face up. “Look at me, Lettie.”
Her cheeks are rosy, and her lips are puffy and red from our rough kissing. Allowing myself a few seconds to soak in her beauty, I study her greedily. The slope of her nose. The colorful flecks dancing in her blue irises. Her dainty jaw line, leading to her elongated neck.
As if it’s teasing me, the pink tip of her tongue sneaks out of her parted lips.
“Stick your tongue out,” I order, my volume low but tone severe.
A wicked glint shimmers in the corner of her eyes. “Make me.”
Instinctively, I know what she needs from me. She doesn’t want nice and gentle because it’ll make her feel fragile. Or at least make her think I see her that way.
She’s anything but.
I’ll never hurt her, but I will give her a touch of the roughness she craves.
Keeping her hair held tight at her nape, I grip her face with my other hand, coming at her from under her chin. My thumb rests in the center of one cheek, and the first two fingers on the other. Applying a tiny bit of pressure, I pucker her mouth open and lower to her eye level. “Stick out your tongue, Lettie. Now .”
I squeeze a bit harder. It’s not enough to hurt her, but certainly enough to get her attention. In this way, I’m letting her know I understand her unspoken request to remind her she isn’t broken.
A whimper caresses her lips as it leaves her mouth, followed by the warm, wet tongue I’m aching to taste.
“Very good. Now hold it there. I want to suck on that little bratty tongue.”
I don’t loosen my grip on her cheeks yet because I suspect she’ll retract her tongue if I do. That teasing look is still very much etched onto her expression.
Only Lettie could turn me into a brat tamer.
Before she can deny me, I dive in, sucking her tongue into my mouth as hard and unyieldingly as I can. My hand falls from her cheeks, settling around the curve of her neck, fingers toward her nape and thumb pressing on the underside of her jaw. She holds me close, wrapping her hands around my shoulders and working her fingertips through the hair at the base of my skull.
She tastes so fucking good. Her naturally sweet kisses, blend with her salty arousal already coating my mouth. Delicious.
When I break for oxygen, she leans backward, tugging me with her onto the bed. “I need you to fuck me.”
She spreads her supple thighs as we move toward the center of the bed together, me crawling over her like she’s my prey. Once again, that primal urge to claim her is front and center. It’s the same instinct that had me teasing her until she admitted that she owns my cock the way I own her pussy.
Violet Holt is mine, through and through.
Whether we’re together or apart, she is mine. Always has been and always will be.
And I’m going to remind her of that right fucking now.
Using the flat of my palm, I press gently on her chest until she’s flat on the bed. Remaining upright, I crawl closer to her bottom, then toss her legs over the tops of my thighs, entwining our lower bodies.
I want to see every inch of her as I sink inside her body, reclaiming what’s mine.
“Lettie, even more than usual, I need you to talk to me while we do this. Okay, sweetness?” Kneeling between her legs, I drag the head of my cock through her slick flesh. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
She fists her hands into the bedding beside her hips, digs her heels into the mattress, and drags herself over the tip of my cock. “I want it hard.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll fuck you good and hard, sugar bear. Just don’t forget, you’re in charge. Everything stops if you say butterfly or pinch me three times. Got it?”
She nods, then verbally agrees, exactly as she’s been taught. “Yes.”
Something flashes behind her eyes, taking her from submissive to defiant in an instant. Her eyes narrow to slits as a sense of sternness coats her features. “Just so you know, this doesn’t change anything between us. We aren’t making love, only fucking.”
Except for the pulsing of my fingertips into her hips, I freeze. “This changes everything. I’m reclaiming this pussy, sweetness. Reminding you who it belongs to. Who it will always belong to.” Resuming teasing her entrance, I grind my tip against her clit until I draw a whimper from her. “I’ll fuck you and make love to you at the same time.”
One of her perfectly groomed eyebrows arches. “Really? How do you plan on doing that?”
“By making you love how hard I fuck you.”
With a pointed eye roll, she raises her upper body and reaches for my cock. Curious to see what she’s got in mind, I don’t halt her movements.
The little brat lines up my dick with her entrance and shimmies her ass closer to me, working my length inside her as best she can at that angle. Once more, she warns, “I mean it. Don’t get this confused. We’re just fucking.”
“The fuck we are,” I growl, thrusting myself deep inside her in one long stroke.
Clamping my lower lip between my teeth, I suppress an animalistic roar deep inside my chest.
Her pleasure-filled moan echoes around the room. The only thing sweeter than the sounds she makes is the feel of being cradled inside her again.
I never thought I’d experience this perfection again outside of my dreams.
Holding myself locked in place, I don’t move right away. Instead, I study her, looking for any signs of panic or discomfort. Despite the feral passion that spurred this encounter, I won’t forget what she’s been through.
I hook one of her legs over my forearm, then the other. Tugging up and outward, I expose more of her beautiful body to me. My vision greedily drinks up the sight of her pussy suctioning my cock, keeping it in place.
Indulging longer in the moment, I leisurely trail my vision over her silky skin until I reach her gorgeous face. “Open those eyes, sugar. Let me see you.”
When she complies with my request, there’s no trace of fear or worry. No panic or stress. Only rapturous lust.
My hips pulse a fraction of an inch. “Are you ready?”
She nods, giving her hips a swirl to draw me in deeper. “Mm-hmm.”
Starting off, I give her one deep stroke, nice and slow. Glancing down my body, I withdraw, leaving only the tip inside. Fucking hell, that’s a glorious sight.
Before slamming back in, I hesitate for two seconds, maybe three. She pulsates her hips, beckoning me back inside. Eventually, I oblige, filling her in slow, hard strokes.
Each time I pull out, I make her wait before I slam home. Sometimes two seconds. Sometimes six, or seven. I only go back in when she begs me with her body, her mewls, or her sapphire eyes.
The next time I withdraw, I lift her right leg up farther, extending it straight and resting it against my chest. I drag my lips along the inside of her lower calf and press kisses on her ankle. My palm skims down her shin, knee, and thigh, moving to her outer hip. Using her leg as leverage, I slam inside her twice as hard as the last few strokes.
“Yes,” she simpers. “Fuck yes. Hard like that.”
I repeat the process three more times. Same tempo. Same lengthy pause between thrusts. And same intensity. Each time, she demands more, which I refuse without speaking. My body is doing the talking for me.
It’s driving me crazy to hold back. But I’m nothing if not determined.
Each time I drive inside her, her volume increases. Those breathy moans turn into keens and wails. She’s not only getting louder, her attitude is changing too. The needier her pussy gets, the more submissive she becomes. Instead of telling me what to do, she starts begging. Aching to please me so I’ll give her what she wants.
I drag it out as long as we both can stand, teasing her until she’s exactly where I want her—desperate and eager to comply.
With my tip barely inside her, I swirl my hips, edging her further. After placing a kiss on her ankle, I hoist up the other leg and squeeze both calves firmly against my chest. As I move her legs closer together, her channel narrows, making her tighter.
One powerful slam turns into two and three. Her tits bounce and jiggle with the force of my thrusts.
Then I stop again.
Eyes locked on mine, she juts her lower lip. “Please, babe. Please. Oh my god. Please, please, please .”
She called me babe again. I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve heard that before today. It’s another one of those gifts I never thought I’d receive again.
Gently this time, I inch in, not even halfway before withdrawing. “What is it, Lettie? Tell me what you want.”
“You. Inside me. Get all the way inside me. I can’t take the teasing anymore. Please fuck me. Hard and fast. Don’t stop.”
My lips find her left ankle for another delicate kiss. I bend at the waist to get closer to her. Not all the way since I bet her ribs are still sore.
“Sugar bear, I’ll fuck you exactly like you want, and I’ll do it immediately after you do one thing for me.”
Her face relaxes, head tilting back with relief. “Oh my gosh. Yes. What?”
“Tell me you’re mine and I’m yours. Tell me this isn’t just fucking. This means something.”
Her cheeks fill with air for a second before she slowly lets them deflate. “I want to do that, but I won’t cave to sexual manipulation.” She skewers me with a severe glare. “You said you would take care of my needs, remember? Right now, that’s all I can agree to. We haven’t fixed our issues yet.”
My shoulders roll forward, and my head tilts down. A tightness starts in my chest, quickly sinking to the bottom of my gut.
Fucking hell. She’s right.
I’ve been so blinded by my desire to reclaim her that I failed to realize what I was doing.
Sex isn’t a tool. This isn’t a game.
Lettie might still love me, but I’ve hurt her too much for her to give in this easily. I haven’t earned her heart yet. Her warmth. Her devotion.
I can’t force her to forgive me and wipe the slate clean. No matter how much I want to.
I’m not a fucking monster.
Knowing this now, I have two choices. Neither of them appealing to me.
Choice one, I simply fuck her, removing all traces of this ownership power game I’ve unwittingly begun playing. Essentially, let her use my body the way I promised so I can see to her physical needs. But in the process, I must remove my heart. It can’t mean what I want it too. Not if she’s not in it for the same reasons.
Choice two, the sex ends. For now. If I can’t give her my body and nothing more, then I shouldn’t be doing it at all. She’s been clear about what she can give. I have no right to demand more.
Her breathing evens out, breasts no longer heaving. They’re no less enticing, though.
The idea of leaving without finishing this act—even if I’m the only one of us who views it as making love—is beyond painful. It isn’t merely the physical release I crave so ardently. It’s the emotional reconnection. The healing, soothing the ever-present ache I’ve had since she left me. In fact, the ache was there long before. It wasn’t as acute, but it was there.
Not just since she was taken and hurt.
It’s always been there.
Because I wasn’t me. I was James Harris. A figment of imagination. A work of fiction.
The last time I was inside her, she wasn’t making love to me . It was him.
It fucking sucks, yet I know which choice I have to make.
“Lettie, I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t have done that.”
Head down, I remove myself from her body. I kiss her legs again before gently lowering them onto the mattress.
Overflowing with shame, I can’t meet her eyes as I get off the bed, remove the condom, and toss it in the trash.
When I come out of the bathroom, face and hands washed, I’m not strong enough to glance at where she lies, still naked and likely confused or livid.
And I don’t look at her while I pull my clothes back on.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, facing away from her, I put my shoes on.
As prepared as I was to fight for her love, to pour my heart out and beg at her feet for forgiveness, I still managed to fuck it up. Instead of groveling like I should be doing, I’m trying to dominate her into taking me back.
What the actual fuck is the matter with me?
So here I sit, ready for her to throw me out. It’ll come any minute now. And I deserve it.
Although I didn’t come up here under false pretenses, I lost control to a primal beast I didn’t know lived inside me. Being this close to Lettie, but unable to reclaim her as my own, is too much for me.
I’m weak. Unworthy of her.
The rustle of the covers behind me is the only sign I’m not alone. Physically.
You’ll always be alone, boy.
Yeah. I know, Dad.