Chapter 12 #3
I pull back a little, her heat clinging to me, and ease back in.
It’s slow, measured, so it doesn’t hurt her.
Then I pull out again, slower this time, going a little deeper before easing back into her, letting her adjust to the rhythm.
My cock throbs, begging for more, but I keep the pace steady, letting her body learn me inch by inch.
She relaxes beneath me. I feel it in the way her pussy opens, takes me deeper. I watch her face as I fuck her slow, the tension easing from her brow, her lips parting on shaky breaths. She’s so fucking beautiful it hurts.
“Christ,” I murmur, my voice low and rough. “You feel so good wrapped around my cock.”
Her eyes flutter, and I thrust deeper, making sure she feels every part of me.
“Fuck,” I growl. “I could stay right here in this pussy forever.”
I move easier now, her body no longer tense from nerves or hesitation. She’s experiencing it.
I shift my hand down between us, finding her clit with my thumb, brushing over it lightly—testing. Her gasp is instantaneous. Her eyes flutter shut, lashes fanning across her cheeks, and her lips part on a moan that makes my spine arch.
That sound… well, fuck me, I’d kill to hear it again.
Her hips shift, chasing the pressure, and that’s when I know. She wants it now. Her moans grow louder, needier. She’s no longer nervous; she’s getting greedy.
I press more firmly on her clit, and her entire body jerks.
“Good girl,” I breathe, fucking mesmerized. “You feel that? That’s your pussy getting addicted to my cock.”
She whimpers, and fuck, I swear I’ll be jerking off to this moment for the rest of my life.
“Eyes on me, Red,” I growl, never slowing the rhythm of my cock fucking into her.
Her moans are pure, fucking music, each sound pulling me closer to the edge. I want her to break first. I want to see what she looks like when she falls apart for me.
“Come for me, Red. Let go. Let me feel it.”
“Reece,” she whimpers, voice shattered, body trembling.
“I’ve got you,” I say.
My rhythm shifts without meaning to. Slower. Deeper. Every thrust is a promise, a claim. Her body rises to meet mine, hips lifting with each thrust. I lean down and drag my mouth over the column of her throat, tasting her skin, inhaling the soft, warm scent of her hair as it fans across the pillow.
One more thrust and she breaks.
Her mouth drops open in a silent gasp before it crashes into a cracked, desperate moan that tears right through me.
Her brows pull together, lashes fluttering, her whole face twisted in something so fucking beautiful it knocks the breath right out of me.
Her back arches, thighs trembling, her cunt gripping my cock as she comes undone.
I don’t even chase my release. It crashes into me the second she falls apart—hot, fierce, and unstoppable. I groan, hips snapping forward as I spill into the condom, but my eyes never leave her.
She’s still trembling. Still gasping. Still lost in the aftershocks of what I just did to her.
And I can’t stop.
I keep fucking her through it, trying to etch the memory into my bones. Her eyes are glazed, her body soft, red hair wild, and every twitch of her pussy makes me want to drag it out a little longer.
When I still, I run my fingers over her face. Soft. Careful. She’s quiet beneath me, skin warm, eyes wide.
“You okay?” I ask.
Because, fuck… this might be the best fucking day of my life.
She doesn’t respond. Instead, she gazes at me.
A single blink. Then another. Slow and almost... distant.
Something on her face begins to change. Not a full recoil, just enough to make something cold cling to my chest.
“Red,” I say again, this time more firmly.
She doesn’t look away, but she’s not really focused on me either. Her mouth parts as if she might speak, then closes again.
And that’s when the panic hits.
An unwelcome surge of anxiety that cuts straight through me.
“Red,” I say again. “Answer me.”
She nods.
But it’s a lie. She’s not the same girl who was beneath me ten seconds ago.
I kiss her once more, trying to anchor her to the moment. To me.
It doesn’t.
I pull out, grab the condom, tie it off, and toss it in the trash. When I turn around, she’s already getting dressed, snatching her bra off the floor and putting it on, tugging her shirt down with shaky hands. Her back’s to me, but I can see it in the way her shoulders hunch.
I remain where I am, still naked.
“Sam?” My voice sounds rougher now.
She doesn’t answer. She tugs on her boots and crouches to grab her phone, and her belongings and shoves them all into her bag. The silence lingers. It’s too heavy, too loud. It’s not the kind that follows something good. It’s the kind that begins to rot.
I run a hand through my hair, trying to understand what’s happening. We just shared everything. She let me in, and now she’s shutting me out so quickly I can feel the walls closing back in.
“Talk to me, Sam.” My voice catches on her name.
She’s gone out the bedroom door before I can even get my fucking boxers back on.
Her footsteps echo down the hallway. They’re sharp, fast, and panicked, but it’s the silence after the front door slams that really wrecks me.
I sit on the edge of my bed, staring at the space she filled.
It’s still warm where she was. Still smells like her.
My chest splits open, as if something’s pouring out—something I can’t put back in.
I run my fingers through my hair, trying to figure out what the fuck happened.
One minute, she was beneath me, holding on as if she never wanted to let go. Now she’s gone, just like I had imagined the whole thing.
And the worst part. She took every part of that moment with her and left this ache in my chest I don’t know how to fucking fix.
I drag my hand down my face, my fingers trembling slightly. I never meant to fall this hard. But somehow, she got in.
And now she’s out there, running away from me like I’m the worst mistake she’s ever made. And maybe I am.
Maybe this was never real to her, but it was to me.
Fuck, it was.