Chapter Nineteen #3
“Yes. Fucking anything,” I tell him. “You have no idea what you do to me, pretty thing. You made me want again, and I keep waiting to hate myself for it, but I don’t.
” I always thought I would…that I should.
Moira never would have wanted that. She made me promise the complete opposite, but I couldn’t find it in myself to do it until now… until him.
“I keep waiting to hate myself for wanting you, but I can’t do it either, Rian. Fuck, give me more.”
We’re in the same boat, he and I, having a part of ourselves that says we shouldn’t want the other, even though the reasons are different…but somehow in all of this, we still do, and Christ, I don’t think that will ever change.
I work a third finger into him, fucking and stretching, and now and again, pulling all of them but one out to play with his prostate.
Abbott’s cock is rock hard—mine is too, a heavy, constant ache between my legs, begging and pleading to let loose inside of him.
“I need you,” I say, then grit my teeth, hardly able to hold it together.
“I’m yours. For tonight, I’m all yours.”
For tonight.
It’s our last night.
His last night.
I pull my fingers free of his body, can’t take my eyes off his open hole, which looks perfect for my cock.
I flip him over to his back, and Abbott looks up at me with a loopy smile. “Tell me again.”
“I need you,” I admit. I need you, I need you, I need you.
It takes a whole lifetime to get my cock slicked. Abbott’s legs are spread wide, and he pulls them back so I can fit between them.
I feel like I’m going to come out of my skin, but not in the way I would think.
It’s as though I’m shedding a part of my past now, that part of me that was so lost and fucking sad, so goddamned alone, even if I know that it’s temporary, even if the protective layer—this one thicker—will grow in its place.
Abbott reaches between us, taking my cock and guiding it to his hole. Neither of us takes our eyes off each other as I push forward, the head sliding into the snug, fiery warmth of his body. “Oh fuck,” falls out of my mouth as, inch by inch, Abbott takes me.
“Jesus, you’re big.”
“Too much?” I ask.
“No. Perfect. Just go slow.”
I do as he says, even though it feels like it could kill me. Slow is good, really. Slow means it takes longer. Slow means this night can feel like it lasts.
“I love this feeling. It’s never been like this, though…I’ve never been so full. Rian, it’s like I can feel you everywhere.”
I feel him everywhere too, like he’s touching parts of me I didn’t know existed, some that have been dormant for far too long. He’s waking each and every nerve ending up, making them tingle and burn in a way that makes me crave more.
When I’m all the way in, groin against his ass, we both still, stare into each other’s eyes, and then he says, “Fuck me hard, remember?”
A surge of possession rises within me, filling me until my whole body overflows with it.
I pull back and thrust in again, over and over, harder with each pump of my hips. I assume my arm must be hurting, that this isn’t great for me, but I can’t feel anything other than pleasure right now, than Abbott, which is the best fucking feeling in the world.
But then he’s placing a hand on my chest, signaling for me to slow down. “What? Did you change your mind?” Did I do something wrong?
I go to pull out, but Abbott tells me, “No. But I don’t want to hurt you.” Then pulls off me, turning so he’s on his hands and knees again.
I don’t want to hurt you.
How can he not want to hurt me after what I’m going to do to him?
“Fuck me, Rian,” he orders, and I push back into him, taking him hard and fast, savoring this solace I have found in his body, found in him.
I don’t want to hurt you.
I’m going to kill him, but he doesn’t want to hurt me.
I’m blinded with desire, see and feel nothing but him. My chest is tight, but it has nothing to do with my gunshot wound. No, it’s what he’s doing to me, the ways this man fills me up, giving me access to the body I don’t deserve.
I don’t want to hurt you.
How am I supposed to do this? I’m going to hate myself for this. I don’t know if I’ll ever recover.
I pull him up so his back is against my chest, dick still firmly lodged in the tightest hole I’ve ever been inside of.
I pump my hips slowly, wrap my arms around him, feel and smell the sweat on his skin, and want to lick up every drop of it.
“God, it’s never…why is it so good?”
My hips stutter, losing rhythm for a moment. I don’t ever want this to end, but maybe this is what I deserve—to finally want again, only to lose him.
“Jerk me off. I’m almost there.”
I spit in my hand and wrap it around him, the feel of his body wiping away all other thoughts but him and this moment.
I fuck him as hard as I can, make the bed hit the wall, feel it when his ass clenches, hear nothing but my name on his lips when he shouts.
I smile at the hot slick of cum sliding between my fingers, and then I’m following him down, losing myself—no, not losing, giving myself to him as my balls draw up and I fill him with every drop that I promised him, wondering what will be left of me when he’s gone.