Chapter 44
ELIJAH
The room is a fucking furnace, sweat dripping down my temples like I've been running laps in hell. Every nerve in my body is lit up like a goddamn firework stand, hyper-aware of her—her breathing, her scent, the way her fucking gaze scorches me like I'm made of fucking kindling.
She's sitting there, legs crossed, and I swear to Christ, I've never been so painfully hard in my life. My dick's throbbing so hard it feels like it's going to bust through my boxers, pre-cum soaking the fabric as I imagine her spread out beneath me, her pussy slick and ready for me to claim.
I can smell her—that faint scent of lavender and something muskier, something that makes my balls tighten and my mouth water. Her tongue darts out to lick her lips, and I nearly fucking lose it. That little pink tongue of hers is going to be the death of me. I want it on me, around me, inside me—fuck, I want her wrapped around my cock, sucking me dry until I'm fucking wrecked.
My hands twitch at my sides, desperate to reach for her, to yank her up from her stool and bury myself inside her until we're both screaming.
But I can't move. I'm fucking paralyzed, caught in this torturous limbo where every second feels like an eternity.
Sam tilts her chin up, her eyes meeting mine, and I see it—the same fucking desire that's clouding my senses mirrored in her dilated pupils. Her tongue darts out again, licking her lips nervously, and I swear I can feel her gaze dragging down to my parted mouth, lingering there before dropping lower, to the tented fabric of my boxers.
"Eli," she whispers, and the sound of my name on her lips is enough to make my fucking knees weak.
"I really want to kiss you right now, sweetheart," I growl, my voice husky, rough with need. I don't bother hiding it—the way she makes me feel, the way she fucking owns me.
"I don't... think that's a good i—"
"Don't fucking lie to me," I interrupt, cutting her off with a growl. "I can see it in your eyes, Sam. You want this as much as I do."
I can't take it anymore.
I grab her by the waist, yanking her off the stool and slamming her down onto the fucking workbench. Paintbrushes and pencils clatter to the floor, but I don't fucking care. All I care about is her—her body, her heat, the way she's looking at me like I'm the only goddamn thing that matters.
"Fuck," I breathe, grazing my fingers across her face, down the delicate curve of her neck. Our faces are so close that our breaths mingle, our lips hovering just inches apart.
"Do you have any idea how much I've missed being this close to you?" I whisper. "How much I've missed feeling you against me, like in Duluth?"
Her eyes flutter closed at the mention of Duluth, and I press my advantage.
"I think about that night constantly," I continue, my voice low and rough. "It's the last thing on my mind before I fall asleep and the first thing I think about when I wake up. Do you know what it's like? This constant torture of wanting to feel you like that again?"
"Like what?"
"You know exactly what I'm talking about."
I lean in, my lips brushing against the shell of her ear. "Eating you out in the hot tub while snow fell around us," I whisper. "Burying myself inside you, feeling how perfectly you fit around me, how wet and ready you were. How you trembled under my touch."
I feel her squirm against me, and when I pull back to look at her face, her cheeks are flushed, her eyes hooded with desire.
"Tell me, Sam," I press. "Do you think about that night too? Does it torture you the way it tortures me?"
"No," she says defiantly, but her voice is breathy, betraying her. "I don't even remember it."
I chuckle, the sound darker than I intend. God, I want to sink my teeth into the soft skin of her neck for that lie.
"Oh really?" I challenge.
"Really," she insists, shrugging with forced casualness. "Maybe the sex just wasn't that memorable. Maybe it was... subpar. I could have better. Someone else could do better."
Something snaps inside me. I know she's saying this to push me away, that she doesn't mean it, but the mere suggestion of someone else touching her, someone else making her feel good—it makes my blood boil.
I part her legs with my hand and press my erection against her heat, growling against her ear. "Don't you fucking dare talk about someone else. It drives me insane just thinking about another man touching what's mine, claiming what's always been mine."
The mere thought of anyone else's hands on her fills me with a rage I've never experienced before.
She is mine. All mine.
She was mine before, she's still mine today, and I don't care if she says she doesn't feel anything for me anymore. I know she's lying, because no matter how much she pretends she doesn't love me, her eyes don't lie.
She still looks at me the same way, albeit more guarded—probably because she's scared I might hurt her again. I can't blame her for that. And it's something I'll work hard to fix.
"Was I really that bad that night?" I growl, my palm sliding down her stomach, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of her shorts.
"Because I could have sworn you couldn't stop moaning my name, couldn't stop begging me for more as you came undone around me."
She whimpers, her hips jerking against my touch, and I press my aching cock against her, letting her feel just how fucking ruined she makes me.
"Was our first night really so forgettable, sweetheart?" I taunt, my fingers teasing the damp silk of her panties, already soaked through for me. "Or do you just need me to remind you how good I made you feel?"
She bites her lip, her nails digging into my shoulders as I drag my fingertips along her slit, slow, torturous, just enough to make her squirm.
"Eli—"
"Tell me," I demand, my voice a dark promise as I push two fingers inside her, deep, curling them just right to make her back arch. "Tell me you remember how tight you are, how perfectly you take me, how your body shakes when I make you come."
She moans, her thighs clamping around my wrist, her pussy clenching around my fingers like she never wants to let go.
"Eli—" she starts, but I cut her off with a kiss, my lips crashing down on hers with a hunger that's been fucking starved for too long. She moans into my mouth, her hands tangling in my hair, pulling me closer, and I fucking lose it.
"Tell me you remember," I demand against her mouth. "Tell me you think about how perfectly our bodies fit together. Tell me you remember every second of that night just like I do."
"I remember," she gasps, her voice breaking as I add a third finger, stretching her, filling her the way she loves. "God, Eli, I remember—"
My hands roam her body, pulling her shirt up and over her head, tossing it aside like it's fucking garbage. Her tits are fucking perfect—small, pert, nipples stiff and begging for my tongue. I latch onto one, sucking it into my mouth, my teeth grazing the sensitive flesh as she arches into me with a gasp.
"This feels so good," she moans, her fingers tightening in my hair as I switch to the other nipple, teasing it with my tongue until she's fucking writhing beneath me. "Eli.... Please—"
"Please what?" I growl, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes. "Tell me what you want, sweetheart. Tell me how bad you want it."
Her cheeks flush, but she doesn't hesitate. "I want you," she breathes, her voice trembling with need. "I want you to fuck me."
I grin, dark and fucking predatory, as I yank her shorts down her legs, tossing them aside. Her panties are soaked, the fabric clinging to her core like it's begging to be ripped away. I hook my fingers in the waistband, tearing them off with a growl, and her pussy is fucking glistening, her clit swollen and begging for attention.
"Fuck," I groan, dropping to my knees and spreading her legs wide. "Look at you. So fucking wet for me."
She whimpers, her thighs trembling as I lean in, dragging my tongue up her slit in one long, filthy lick. She tastes fucking incredible—sweet and tangy, like she was fucking made for me to devour. I do it again, slower this time, savoring the way she squirms, the way her moans fill the room.
"You're mine," I snarl, my cock throbbing painfully against my boxers. "No one else gets to touch you like this, no one else gets to taste you—only me."
"Eli—" she gasps, her hands gripping the edge of the workbench as I focus on her clit, teasing it with my tongue until she's fucking shaking. "Oh God, don't stop—"
I don't. I fucking feast on her, my tongue working her clit in slow, deliberate circles before plunging into her heat, fucking her with my tongue as she cries out, her hips bucking against my face. Her juices are dripping down my chin, and I'm fucking drunk on the taste of her, on the way she's falling apart for me.
"Come for me," I growl against her pussy, my fingers finding her most sensitive bud, rubbing it in tight circles as my tongue fucks her deeper, harder. "Let me feel you come all over my face, sweetheart."
She does, her thighs clamping around my head, her wet heat pulsing around my tongue as she screams my name. I don't stop, flicking her clit with my tongue until she's fucking sobbing, pulling at my hair like she's trying to make me stop and begging for more at the same time.
I rise to my feet, claiming her mouth with mine, letting her taste herself on my tongue.
"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" I groan against her lips. "How you make me feel? You're like a drug to me," I murmur, my voice rough with need. "When I'm away from you, I feel like I'm going insane. But when I'm with you, everything feels right again.
"I need you," she begs. "Please, I need more..."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yes," she breathes. "Please."
I don't waste any time. I push my boxers down. My cock springs free, hard and fucking throbbing, pre-cum dribbling down the shaft.
"You want this cock inside you, Sam?"
"Yes," she moans, her legs spreading wider. "Please, Eli, fuck me—"
I don't need to be told twice. I grab her hips, pulling her to the edge of the workbench, and slam into her in one fucking stroke. She's tight—so fucking tight—and the way her pussy clenches around me is enough to make me see stars. I pause, my thick length buried deep inside her, my forehead resting against hers as I try to fucking breathe.
"You're mine," I tell her, "Only mine."
I pull back slowly, inch by fucking torturous inch, before slamming into her again, harder this time, and she cries out, her nails digging into my shoulders.
"You feel that?" I growl, my voice rough with need. "Feel how fucking deep I am inside you?"
She nods, her eyes wide, her lips parted as she gasps for air. "Yes," she whispers, her voice breaking. "God, yes—"
"That's how deep my feelings for you go, sweetheart. That's how much you're mine."
She sobs my name, her legs locking around my waist, her body begging for more.
"Mine," I snarl, my hips pistoning into her, each thrust deep, brutal, claiming. "Say it."
"Yours," she whimpers, her nails raking down my back. "Only yours—"
Her eyes flutter closed, and I feel her walls start to tighten around me, her orgasm building with every fucking stroke. I'm close too, the pressure in my cock unbearable, but I'm not going to fucking come until she does.
"Look at me," I demand, "I want to see your face when you come for me."
"Eli," she gasps. "Please don't stop. Please... Please..."
I grin, my hands gripping her hips tighter, pulling her down onto me with every thrust. "Don't worry, sweetheart," I mutter, my voice rough with desire. "I'm not stopping until you scream my name."
And she does. Fuck, she really does.
"Come for me," I tell her, my thrusts turning erratic, my balls tightening. "Let me feel you squeeze me—"
Her inner walls clamp down around me like a vise, milking my cock with each pulsing wave of her climax. The sensation sends lightning up my spine, and I throw my head back with a guttural groan that tears from somewhere primal inside me.
Every nerve ending is on fire as her body squeezes mine, demanding everything I have to give her. It's fucking transcendent—like drowning and being saved at the same time.
"That's it, sweetheart," I encourage. "Let go for me. Show me how good I make you feel."
Her orgasm hit her hard, her body trembling around me, her nails clawing at my shoulders as she come undone. I follow her over the edge, my cock pulsing inside her as I empty myself deep inside her tight little pussy, claiming her completely.
"I love you," I whisper against her skin, not sure if she can hear me. "I'll always love you."
And even though she doesn't say it back, I feel her arms tighten around me, and for now, that's enough. It has to be. Because no matter what she says, no matter how hard she tries to push me away again, I'm not going anywhere.
She's mine, and I'm hers, and I'll spend the rest of my life proving it to her if I have to.
*****
Being with Sam felt like coming home. I thought that night in her studio meant something—that things between us had finally changed.
I was wrong. So fucking wrong.
After Sunday, after I had her in my arms again and didn't want to let go, she went right back to ignoring me. Like it meant nothing. And fuck, that hurt more than any hit I've ever taken on the ice.
I gave her space because I promised I would. It was hell staying away for a few days, but I kept it. But that ends today.
Caroline's winter showcase gives me the perfect opportunity. Sam will be there. And I swear to God, if I have to drag her into a janitor's closet to make her talk to me, I'll do it.
By the time we arrive, the theater is already filling up. We managed to snag a row on the main floor—prime real estate for watching the show. My eyes dart to every doorway, hoping to see Sam.
Meanwhile, the guys are turning our section into a circus.
Two of our teammates, Reese and Jasper, are on the balcony rail trying to hang a banner, and somehow they're still screwing it up. And by "banner," I mean a neon monstrosity with crooked letters, dripping paint, and spacing that would make a graphic designer weep.
Cody and the twins are shouting instructions like drill sergeants.
"No—other way! OTHER WAY. Dude, that's left. I said right!" Cody barks.
Luke chimes in, exasperated, "Bro, lift your side. YOUR side. Why are you lifting his side?"
"Dude, it's STILL crooked! Higher—no, LOWER—no, what are you even doing?!" one of the twins shouts.
"STOP PULLING, YOU'RE MAKING IT WORSE!" Reese snaps at Jasper.
Reese adjusts it two centimeters.
"JASPER, STOP MOVING! WHY ARE YOU MOVING?!"
Zach rubs a hand down his face. "Jesus Christ."
Cody stands in the aisle, hands on his hips like a proud, useless supervisor. "STRAIGHTEN IT! No—STRAIGHTEN IT STRAIGHTER!"
"STRAIGHTER?" Zach mutters. "That's not even a direction."
There's only ten minutes left before the show starts. Sam's mom is already here, sitting next to Caroline's parents four rows ahead of us. But where is she?
"Little devil!" Liam suddenly blurts, waving so aggressively he nearly smacks a random guy in the face.
I shift in my seat trying to be subtle but failing miserably because I catch my best friend's knowing smirk. My face lights up when I finally see her.
My heart hammers against my ribs as I wait for her to look at me, for our gazes to meet. I'm practically leaning forward in my seat, a pathetic puppy begging for attention.
But she passes by without so much as a glance in my direction, and I know—I fucking know—she did it on purpose. What makes it worse is that she stops just past my row to chat with everyone else.
Everyone. Except. Me.
I want to punch Liam so bad when he slings his arm around her shoulder. The possessive monster inside me claws at my chest, demanding release.
"Long time no see," Liam grins at her.
"Yeah, little devil," Luke adds from his seat beside mine. "You haven't been showing up at the Pond lately. Don't you miss us at all?"
I don't see Luke's face, but I feel his eyes on me when he says 'us'. The smirk in his voice is way too pointed to be subtle.
Sam laughs, still not giving me even a fraction of acknowledgment. "I've just been busy."
"Busy?" Liam scoffs. "You mean busy partying every damn night?"
Sam rolls her eyes, elbowing him gently.
"At the football house no less!" Liam piles on dramatically. "Can you believe that? Betrayal. Actual betrayal. What about loyalty? What about family?"
Sam snorts. "What can I say? Their parties are more fun than yours."
Luke clutches his chest like he's been stabbed. "Wow. Right to our faces."
I clench my jaw so hard it hurts, my fingernails digging crescents into my palms. The thought of Sam at the football house, surrounded by those meatheads, makes my vision blur with rage. My eyes bore into her profile, willing—no, demanding—her to look at me, to acknowledge my existence. But she's committed to ignoring me, acting like the seat I occupy is empty air.
Cody leans forward from the seat next to Zach. "Yo, Sam—I heard Khol's been asking you out. That why you're always over there? Or are you guys going out already?"
I see red. Khol. Fucking Carter. I already warned that asshole to back off, told him in no uncertain terms that Sam is mine. And now Cody's planting these images in my head—Sam and Khol together—and I want to vomit or punch something, preferably Khol's face.
I wait for Sam to deny it. She has to deny it. Because of course she's not going out with him—not after we slept together a few nights ago, not when I know damn well she still loves me.
But Sam just grins.
My eyes darken as she eventually goes to sit with her mom. As the show begins, I continue seething in my seat, barely registering the performers on stage. Halfway through the first act, I see Sam slip out of her row, heading toward the lobby. I count to thirty, then follow.
I wait outside the women's restroom, leaning against the wall opposite the door. When she emerges, I push off the wall and move fast. Before she can react, I've got her caged between my arms, her back against the wall.
"Why are you still ignoring me?" I demand, my voice low, dangerous even to my own ears.
She tilts her chin up defiantly, "I'm not ignoring you."
"Bullshit." I lean closer, close enough to smell her perfume. "You looked at literally everyone but me all night. What happened to our understanding the other night?"
Her lips—the same lips that had been all over my body three nights ago—press into a thin line. "There was no 'understanding,'" she says coolly, each word like a shard of ice. "It was just sex, Elijah. We got caught up in the moment."
"Just sex?" I echo, incredulous.
"Yes." Her fingers fidget with the hem of her sweater, the only tell that she's not as composed as she wants me to believe.
"And it's not going to happen again," she continues, her eyes darting everywhere but my face. "The drawing is done. We don't have any reason to meet anymore. So we can avoid more... mishaps like sleeping together."
"Mishaps?" I'm offended to my core that she'd reduce what we shared to a fucking mistake. "Is that what you call it when you came three times with my name on your lips? A mishap?"
Her cheeks flush, the color spreading down her neck. "Keep your voice down," she hisses.
"What happened between us wasn't a mishap. It was inevitable. It was explosive. It was the most honest either of us has been in weeks."
"You're romanticizing a hook-up," she fires back, eyes finally meeting mine, flashing with anger.
"Hook-up?" I laugh, but there's no humor in it, just a raw edge that scrapes my throat on the way out. "Is that what you tell yourself so you can sleep at night? That what we have is just physical?"
"We don't have anything," she insists, "It was just sex. Good sex, sure, but nothing more."
"So you admit it was good," I say, leaning in so close I can feel her breath on my lips.
"That's not the point."
"Then what is the point, Sam? Because I'm struggling to understand why you'd give yourself to me like that again and then treat me like a stranger."
Her eyes flash, temper rising to meet mine. "I didn't 'give myself' to you," she scoffs, the words sharp enough to draw blood. "We had sex. That's it. Don't turn it into something it's not."
"You can say that all you want," I murmur, studying the way her throat moves when she swallows, the pulse hammering visibly at the base of her neck, "but your body said something very different."
"You don't know what you're talking about," she says, but the words lack conviction.
"Oh, but I do, sweetheart." I move one hand to brush a stray hair from her face, letting my fingers trail down her cheek to her throat. I can feel her pulse hammering under my thumb.
She doesn't pull away from my touch, though her eyes narrow. "Your body's saying it right now."
"What?" She tries to sound outraged, but it comes out breathless.
"Your nipples are hard," my eyes dropping to her chest where they press against the thin fabric. I lean in until my lips brush her ear. "Your thighs keep squeezing together like you're trying to get some relief. I bet you're soaking wet already." I grind my hips against hers, her eyes rolling back as the sweetest whimper slips from her lips.
I drop my gaze to her lips. "And you haven't moved away even though I'm crowding the hell out of you."
"Because you've got me pinned against a wall," she retorts, but we both know it's a lie. I'm not holding her in place. She could duck under my arm and leave anytime she wants.
"Are you not tired?" I ask, my voice softening. "Aren't you exhausted from lying to yourself?" I cup her chin gently, forcing her to look at me, but she's stubborn, gaze fixed somewhere over my shoulder. "It would be so much easier if you just admit the truth we both know, what everyone knows. You still love me, sweetheart."
She clenches her hands into fists at her sides, frustration and uncertainty warring in her gaze. "I have to go," she says.
"No." I plant my hand on the wall beside her head again. "You can't leave, not until you tell me you really don't feel anything for me anymore."
"I don't feel anything for you," she says, the words flat and unconvincing.
"You can't even lie convincingly."
"God, Elijah, I already did what you asked!"
"Look at me when you say it," I challenge. "Say it like you mean it."
She tries—I'll give her that. She lifts her eyes to mine, opens her mouth, but nothing comes out.
"Look me in the eye and tell me that you don't love me."
Her throat moves as she swallows.
"Say it, Sam," I push, my thumb stroking her cheekbone. "Say it, and I walk away. I'll leave you alone if that's what you really want."
Her gaze drops to my chest. I feel a tremor run through her body, subtle but unmistakable.
"That's what I thought," I murmur, relief and triumph flooding through me like a drug. "You can't say it because it would be a lie."
"Eli...jah, please," she whispers, her voice breaking on my name in a way that squeezes my heart. "This isn't fair."
"I'm done playing fair." My voice is rough with emotion. "I'm done giving you space. I'm done pretending I don't want you with every cell in my body." I cup her face with both hands now, tilting it up so she has nowhere to look but at me.
"Look at me and tell me you don't feel the same. I promise I'll give up, even if it kills me."
For a terrifying moment, I think she might actually say the words—might actually destroy me right here in this hallway. But I can see the sheen of tears in her beautiful eyes, and the truth is written there plain as day.
She doesn't need to say anything; her eyes tell me everything.
With a groan of surrender—hers or mine, I'm not sure—I crash my mouth down on hers. She resists at first, her lips unyielding beneath mine, and panic flashes hot and bright in my chest. But when I deepen the kiss, sliding my tongue along the seam of her lips, she parts for me with a whimper that vibrates through my bones.
I take full advantage, exploring her mouth, reminding her of what she's been trying so hard to forget. And then—thank fuck—she's kissing me back, hungry and desperate as I am. Her arms snake around my neck, fingers threading through my hair, tugging in that way she knows drives me crazy.
I press her harder against the wall, one hand moving to grip her hip, fingers digging into the soft flesh there. She responds by hitching one leg around my waist, pulling me closer to where she's hot and wanting. I lift her up, and she wraps both legs around my waist, the position pressing her center against my rapidly hardening cock.
"Fuck, Sam," I groan against her mouth, rocking into her, the friction exquisite even through layers of denim. "See what you do to me? Feel that?"
She makes a sound that's part sob, part moan, rolling her hips against mine. "I hate you," she whispers, but her hands are clinging to me like she's drowning, like I'm the only thing keeping her afloat.
"No, you don't," I say, trailing kisses down her jaw to that spot below her ear that makes her shiver. "You love me."
She doesn't deny it this time. Instead, she pulls my face back to hers, kissing me like she's trying to consume me, to crawl inside my skin. It's messy and desperate and perfect, teeth clashing, tongues battling. I could get lost in her, forget my own name, forget everything but the taste and feel of her against me.
Without breaking the kiss, I carry her into the women's bathroom, locking the door behind us. I set her on the marble counter by the sink, standing between her spread thighs.
"Still want to tell me this is just sex?" I murmur against her neck. "That you don't want me?"
"Shut up and kiss me," she breathes, pulling my mouth back to hers.
"So demanding," I tease, nipping at her bottom lip. "What happened to 'it's not going to happen again'?"
"Are you going to talk or are you going to fuck me?"
"Both," I promise, my hands going to the button of her jeans. When she doesn't object, I unzip them and slide my hand inside, groaning when I feel how wet she already is.
"Eli," she moans as I slide a finger through her slick folds.
"Yes, sweetheart?" I push a finger inside her wet heat, and she gasps, arching her back. Her moan is the sweetest music I've ever heard. "Is this what you've been missing? What you've been denying yourself? Your pretty little pussy is practically begging for me."
I kiss her fiercely as I thrust my finger in and out, adding a second when she starts rocking against my hand.
"I want to see you come undone for me again," I whisper against her lips. "I want to hear you scream my name until your throat is raw. So, which do you prefer, sweetheart... my tongue licking you until you can't remember your own name, my fingers fucking you until you're shaking..." I thrust deeper, curving my fingers to hit that perfect spot that makes her gasp, "or my cock stretching you so full you'll feel me for days?
"All of them," she moans.
"Fuck! I'm going to wreck you so good you'll never think about denying us again."
I tug her jeans down along with her soaked panties, helping her wiggle out of them. She places both legs up on the counter, opening herself fully to me, her slick folds glistening in the harsh bathroom light. Our eyes lock, and the intensity I see in her gaze nearly brings me to my knees.
"You're so fucking beautiful," I murmur, licking my lips as I drop my gaze to her exposed pussy. "I've been dreaming about this... every fucking night."
Then I'm on my knees, diving into her sweetness like a man starved. I lick a long stripe through her folds, groaning at her taste, before focusing my attention on her clit. I suck it between my lips as I push two fingers back inside her.
"Oh god, Eli!" she cries out, her hands tangling in my hair.
"Tell me how much you want this," I demand against her sensitive flesh. "Tell me how much you want me."
"I want you so much," she gasps, her hips rolling against my mouth. "I can't stop thinking about you, about this. Please, Eli, I need more."
I redouble my efforts, sucking her clit as I curve my fingers inside her, hitting that spot that makes her thighs shake. And then she's coming, her walls clenching around my fingers, her clit pulsing against my tongue as she cries out my name.
My cock is painfully hard, straining against my jeans, but I wasn't planning to push her further tonight. I just needed to taste her again, to remind her of what she's been trying to deny.
But then Sam is reaching for my belt, her eyes dark with desire. "I need you," she says, her voice raw. "I need you inside me, Eli. Now."
Whatever self-control I was trying to muster evaporates instantly. With trembling hands, I unbuckle my belt and push my pants and boxers down just enough to free my aching cock. I capture her mouth in a deep kiss, letting her taste herself on my tongue, as I line myself up with her entrance.
With one powerful thrust, I'm inside her, both of us moaning at the sensation. Sweet mercy, being buried in Sam feels like paradise—like everything right in this fucked-up world.
I press my forehead against hers, looking into her eyes as I thrust into her over and over. "I'm yours, Sam. Always have been. Always will be."
Her eyes fill with tears again, but she doesn't look away this time. "Eli," she breathes, and it sounds like a confession, like surrender.
I increase my pace, driving into her harder, deeper. "Come for me again, sweetheart. Let me feel you fall apart for me again."
Her walls begin to tighten around me, and I know she's close. I reach between us to circle her clit with my thumb, and she falls apart, clenching around me so tightly I see stars. Her orgasm triggers my own, and I bury myself as deep as I can, spilling into her with a groan of her name.
For a long moment, we stay like that, breathing heavily, our bodies still joined. I rest my head on her shoulder, pressing soft kisses to her neck.
"Fuck, Sam," I mutter. "You're going to be the death of me."
I pull back to look at her face, my breath still coming in ragged bursts.
She smiles, her eyes dark with satisfaction, and lean in, her lips brushing against mine. "Then what a way to go," she whispers, her voice trembling with desire.
And fuck me, if that doesn't make me want to do it all over again.