✧･Chapter 19 Look At You
"Fuck," I mutter under my breath, the word catching halfway out as I continue to stare at Mae, like if I look away for even a second, I might actually regain control, and I don't think I want to.
My chest tightens painfully, each breath shallow and uneven, and I can feel the heat spreading through me fast, aggressive, like a wildfire tearing through everything in its path, leaving nothing untouched.
Mae doesn't move from where she's pressed against the table, but she doesn't need to.
She just watches me, her head tilting slightly, her gaze steady and locked onto mine like she's already decided how this is going to end.
There's patience in it, but not softness...
something sharper, something that feels like a challenge.
When her eyebrow lifts just slightly, it lands like a direct hit, and I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry as I try - pathetically - to shove everything down, to grab onto some kind of control before I completely lose it.
But Mae isn't waiting for me to figure it out.
I see it the second it shifts in her expression, like she's done hesitating, done holding back.
She draws in a slow, steady breath, her chest rising under my gaze, and then her hands move again, sliding behind her back.
For half a second, my brain lags, like it refuses to catch up with what's happening, and then, the soft snap of fabric.
The slow, very slow way it loosens.
I don't think I can actually breathe.
Her bra slips from her shoulders, inch by inch, her eyes never leaving mine as she peels it off like she knows exactly what she's doing to me, like she can see every crack forming in the control I'm barely holding together.
It falls from her hands without any thought, forgotten the second it leaves her fingers.
And that's it. Whatever fragile grip I had left on myself shatters completely.
My gaze drops before I can stop it, dragged down like something physical is pulling it, taking her in in a way I've denied myself for years.
My hands twitch at my sides, fingers curling and uncurling like they don't know where to go, like they need to touch her just to prove this is real.
My breathing turns rough, uneven, my chest rising and falling too fast, like my body is already reacting before I can catch up.
I'm on her before I even register moving, closing the distance in two long strides that feel like nothing and everything all at once.
My hands come up fast, cupping her jaw, holding her there like I need her exactly where she is, and then my mouth is on hers - hard, unrestrained, every ounce of control I had completely gone.
The kiss is instant chaos.
Messy and desperate, all teeth and breath and heat, like neither of us knows how to do this gently anymore.
My lips press into hers with force, my grip tightening as I pull her closer, pushing her further back into the table behind her.
The impact makes something rattle, something fall, but it barely registers over the sound of my pulse roaring in my ears.
She responds just as fast, just as hard.
Her teeth catch mine, her mouth opening against me, and when her tongue brushes my lip, something sharp and electric shoots straight through me. I react without thinking, deepening the kiss, meeting her with equal force, like I need to match her, need to prove I'm just as far gone.
And I am.
Completely.
There's nothing careful about it, nothing restrained.
It's everything we didn't say, everything we didn't allow ourselves to feel, crashing together all at once.
My body presses into hers, heat against heat, and the contact sends a jolt through me so strong it nearly knocks the breath out of my lungs.
Her hands are suddenly on me, everywhere.
Gripping, urgent, sliding up my sides before tangling in the fabric of my blouse like it's in her way, like it's the one thing left between us that she can't stand.
I barely have time to register it before she's yanking at it, rough and impatient, the movement sharp enough to jolt through me.
The fabric pulls tight, then gives. A button pops, then another.
The sound barely registers over the way my breath catches, over the way my entire body reacts instantly, heat flaring hotter, sharper.
I gasp against her mouth, the kiss breaking for half a second as my head tips back on instinct, my chest rising hard against her hands as she drags the blouse open like she needs it gone now.
"Mae-" her name slips out of me, wrecked and unsteady, but it's not a protest. It doesn't even sound like one.
It sounds like something else entirely, and she doesn't stop. If anything, it only makes her worse.
Her fingers hook into the fabric, pushing it off my shoulders with no patience, no care for where it falls, her touch firm and unrelenting as she strips it away from me.
The air hits my skin and I swear it feels colder for half a second - until she replaces it, her hands back on me, warm and grounding and too much all at once.
It drags a sharp breath out of me, my hands instinctively grabbing at her again, fingers digging into her sides, pulling her back into me like I can't stand the distance that wasn't even there to begin with.
My chest feels like it's going to cave in. Like my heart is beating too fast to keep up with what's happening.
Like if I stop, even for a second, I'll feel everything all at once, and I won't survive it.
So I don't stop.
I surge forward again, reclaiming her mouth, my hand sliding back up to her jaw, holding her there as I kiss her harder, deeper, like I'm trying to drown in it, like I need this more than I need air.
My other hand moves without thinking, pressing into her back, keeping her pinned against the table as my body follows, closing whatever space is left.
She responds instantly, like she's just as gone, her grip tightening on me, her body arching into mine in a way that makes my breath stutter mid-kiss.
Everything feels heightened.
Her skin under my hands, her mouth against mine, the way she's touching me like she doesn't want to stop either... it all crashes into me at once, overwhelming and addictive in the same breath.
My hands find their way to the waistband of Mae's jeans, fumbling for a moment before undoing the button, then start to yank down the fabric and she lifts her hip, helping me in the process. I pull them off, throwing them somewhere.
"Tell me what you want," I say, nearly growling, and I can hear the hitch in her breath, her eyes staring into mine as I let my hands drop to her thighs, squeezing hard enough to leave marks.
"You." She barely whispers, her hands clenching at the edge of the table, and I chuckle, shaking my head.
"Tell me-" I start, leaning in to place a kiss to her collarbone, then biting. "-exactly what you want me to do." I rasp out, trailing my kisses further down.
"F-fuck, Claire-"
I lift my head, moving a hand up to cup around her throat, squeezing lightly, and I watch as her eyes flutter closed, a throaty moan leaving her that hits me right in the chest.
"You like this?" I ask, a bit surprised at her reaction, and she nods, opening her eyes to look at me again, her pupils blown wide.
"Claire," she starts, lifting a hand to roughly grab my jaw, her nails digging into my skin before she continues to speak, "fuck me."
The words hit me like a physical blow, and something snaps inside me. Whatever fragile thread of control I had left completely disintegrates.
"Say it again," I demand, my voice rough and low, my hand tightening slightly around her throat.
Her breath catches, her chest heaving against mine, and when she speaks again, her voice is wrecked and desperate.
"Fuck me, Claire. Please-"
I don't let her finish.
I drop to my knees between her thighs, my hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise as I yank her forward to the edge of the table. She gasps, her hands scrambling for anything on the surface behind her, and I can feel the way her entire body trembles under my touch.
"Look at me," I order, my voice coming out rougher than I intended.
Her eyes snap to mine immediately, wide and dark and so full of need it nearly undoes me.
I hold her gaze as I hook my fingers into the waistband of her underwear, dragging it down slowly, watching the way her breath stutters, the way her lips part on a silent gasp.
When I finally strip it away completely, I don't give her time to think.
I lean forward, pressing my mouth to the inside of her thigh, kissing and biting my way higher. Her hands fly to my hair, fingers tangling in the strands, and the pressure makes me groan against her skin.
"Claire-" My name leaves her lips like a broken prayer and it only makes me more determined to completely wreck her.
I kiss higher, tasting salt and heat, and when my mouth finally reaches where she needs me most, she cries out, sharp and unrestrained - her hips jerking forward involuntarily.
I don't hold back.
My tongue moves against her, slow at first, learning what makes her breath hitch, what makes her thighs tremble against my hands. She tastes like everything I've been denying myself for six years, and I'm greedy for it, for her, for every sound that leaves her mouth.
"Fuck! Claire- Oh my god-"
Her moans are broken, loud, her hand in my hair guiding me, holding me there like she's afraid I'll stop. But I won't. I couldn't even if I wanted to.
I work her with my tongue, alternating between slow, teasing strokes and firmer pressure, and every time she moans my name, it goes straight through me, making me press closer to give her more.
Her thighs are trembling against my hands, her breathing ragged and uneven and I use my hand to grip her thigh, and with one rough movement, I spread her legs further open.
"Don't stop," she gasps out, her voice wrecked. "Please-"
I pull back just enough to look up at her, and the sight nearly breaks me.
Her head is tipped back, her chest heaving, her cheeks flushed, and when her eyes meet mine, they're glassy with tears - not from pain, but from the overwhelming intensity of everything she's finally allowing herself to feel.
"I'm not stopping," I murmur against her, my voice rough. "Not until you come for me."
She whimpers, actually whimpers, and the sound sends heat flooding through me so fast I feel dizzy with it.
I bring my hand up, sliding two fingers through her wetness before pressing inside her slowly, watching her face as I do.
Her mouth falls open on a silent gasp, her eyes fluttering but not closing, still locked on mine as I push deeper.
"Look at me," I say again, my voice low and commanding. "I want to see you."
She does. Her eyes lock onto mine, and for a moment, everything else falls away. It's just us... six years of longing and hurt and love finally breaking open between us.
I start moving, slow at first, watching her face, watching the way her expression shifts with every stroke.
Her hand tightens in my hair, her other hand gripping the edge of the table hard enough that her knuckles turn white, and I can feel her trying to hold on, trying to stay present even as I'm unraveling her.
I curl my fingers inside her, finding the spot that makes her cry out, and her hips buck forward involuntarily.
"Fu-" She can't finish the sentence, can't get the words out, but I see it in her eyes. I lean forward, my mouth returning to her clit as my fingers continue working inside her, and the combination makes her entire body jerk.
"Fuck! Claire- I can't-"
"Yes, you can," I murmur against her, my voice rough and low.
I move faster, harder, my fingers curling inside her with every thrust, my tongue circling her clit in time with the rhythm, and I feel the exact moment she tips over the edge.
She comes with my name on her lips, her body clenching around my fingers, her hand fisting in my hair as she rides out the waves of her climax.
I don't stop, working her through it, drawing it out until she's shaking, until she's gasping for breath, until she's pushing weakly at my shoulder because it's too much.
When she finally stills, her body going slack, I slowly withdraw my fingers, pressing a soft kiss to her thigh before looking up at her.
Her eyes are glassy, her cheeks flushed, her chest still heaving, and then she's moving.
She reaches for me, her hands trembling as they cup my face, pulling me up to her. When our mouths meet, the kiss is different... softer, slower, but no less intense. She tastes herself on my lips, and the sound she makes - half moan, half whimper - sends another wave of heat through me.
"Claire," she whispers against my mouth, her voice wrecked and raw. "I... I need more. Please."
I pull back from the kiss, my breath ragged, and look at her.
Mae's eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with need, her lips swollen from kissing, her entire body still trembling from the aftershocks. But there's something else there too, a hunger that matches my own.
"More?" I repeat, my voice coming out rougher than I intend. "You want more?"
She nods, her hands still clutching at my shoulders, and I can feel the tremor running through her fingers.
"Yes," she breathes. "Please, I need-"
I don't let her finish.
In one swift movement, I grab her hips and pull her off the table, spinning her around so fast she gasps. Her palms slam down against the wood surface as I press against her back, my body covering hers, my mouth at her ear.
"You need what?" I growl, my hands sliding up her sides, feeling every curve, every inch of skin I've been starving for. "Tell me what you need, Mae."
"You," she whimpers, her voice breaking. "I need you."
Something feral breaks loose inside me at those words.
I push her down harder against the table, one hand between her shoulder blades, the other sliding down the curve of her spine to grip her hip. She's bent over now, completely exposed to me, and the sight of her like this... vulnerable, willing, and all mine makes my head spin.
"You have no idea how long I've wanted this," I murmur against the back of her neck, my teeth grazing her skin. "How many times I've imagined having you like this."
She moans, pushing back against me, and I can feel how wet she still is, how ready.
"Then take me," she gasps out. "Stop holding back and just- fuck me."
That's all I need to hear. I slide two fingers through her wetness and she's so fucking soaked, still sensitive from her first orgasm - and without warning, I push inside her hard and deep.
She cries out, her back arching, her hands scrabbling for purchase against the smooth table surface.
"Fuck!"
"That's it," I breathe, starting to move, my fingers pumping into her with a roughness I haven't allowed myself until now.
I'm not gentle, I can't be. Not anymore.
Six years of wanting her, of denying myself, of lying awake at night thinking about this... it all comes pouring out now in the way I take her, the way my fingers curl inside her with every thrust, hitting that spot that makes her whole body jerk.
My other hand moves from her back to tangle in her hair, pulling her head back just enough that I can see the side of her face, the way her mouth falls open, the way her eyes squeeze shut, the flush spreading down her neck.
"Look at you," I murmur, my voice thick with desire. "So fucking beautiful like this."
"More," she gasps, and I can hear the desperation in her voice. "Claire, please-"
I add a third finger, stretching her, and the sound she makes is loud. A broken cry that goes straight to my core.
"Is this what you need?" I ask, my pace relentless now, my fingers driving into her over and over.
"Yes! God, yes! Don't stop-"
I lean over her, my chest pressed against her back, my mouth at her ear.
"I'm never stopping," I tell her, and I mean it. "You're mine now, Mae. You understand that? Mine."
She nods frantically, her whole body trembling, and I can feel her getting close again, can feel the way she's tightening around my fingers.
My free hand slides around to find her clit, and the moment I touch her there, she shatters. This orgasm is different, harder and more intense and she screams my name as it tears through her, her body convulsing, her inner walls clenching around my fingers so tight it's almost painful.
I work her through it, not letting up, drawing it out until she's sobbing, until her legs are shaking so badly I have to wrap my arm around her waist to keep her upright.
When she finally goes limp against the table, I slowly withdraw my fingers, pressing soft kisses along her spine as she tries to catch her breath.
"Claire," she whispers, her voice completely wrecked. "I can't... I can't feel my legs."
I smile against her skin, a surge of possessive satisfaction flooding through me.
"Good," I murmur