Chapter 35 #3
She braced herself against the sink, head tipped back, hair falling free. I glanced up, saw her all mussed and feverish, and felt a bolt of pure want shoot through me.
I kissed down her stomach, slowly and deliberately, then hooked my fingers under the waistband of her jeans and slid them down her thighs. She was wet – soaked, really – and when I pressed my nose against the crease of her hip, she shuddered.
“Fucking hell, Teddy,” she whispered, her voice shaking.
I bent down slightly to wrap my hands around her thighs and lifted, and soon she was poised on the edge of the counter, her legs wide and waiting, the wet lace over her pussy practically dripping with want.
I tugged it down next, and she helped me by lifting her hips slightly, both of us watching as it fell to the floor alongside the rest of her clothes.
I didn’t touch her; not at first. I wanted her to want it.
To feel every second of the wait. I just put my hand on the worktop between her legs, wanting the heat I was radiating to contrast with the cool surface of the marble against her skin.
She whimpered at the proximity, but I didn’t give her what she wanted just yet.
When I finally slid my fingers up, she made a noise – sharp, desperate – and pushed her hips forward against my hand.
I grinned, but I didn’t give in all the way.
I teased her, circling her clit just a little too wide with my thumb, then moving even lower, away from that centre of pleasure.
She rocked against me, seeking that contact, her eyes fluttering closed, gripping the edge of the sink like she might otherwise fall.
I kept my other hand on her breast, rolling the nipple between my fingers, sucking just hard enough to make her desperate and impatient. Before long, she was fully grinding against my hand, whimpering and whispering “Fuck, Teddy,” into the air above her.
My own legs were shaking, and I couldn’t help it; I reached into my own jeans and began to rub myself, too. Like Chloe, I was soaking wet, and it didn’t take long before our breathing was equally ragged.
I suddenly came very close to my own climax, so I dropped to my knees and buried my face between Chloe’s legs, going straight for her clit with as much suction as I could manage.
She cried out so loudly that she brought a hand up to her own mouth to cover it, and I laughed against her, the hum re-verberating across her wet skin.
That made her come apart entirely, arching drastically off the counter, and I plunged my two fingers inside her as she climaxed.
My other hand grew more frenzied, bringing me closer to my finish line.
Chloe tightened around me, again and again, and I used my tongue to keep her going, wanting her to ride the wave as long as possible, until my own orgasm made my head tilt back in ecstasy.
I pushed inside myself, too, matching rhythm between us.
I wanted this to last forever, for both of our sakes.
Eventually, I slowed down, pulling my fingers out of my own pants, using gentle laps of my tongue to stretch her orgasm out as long as I could.
When she finally, truly finished, I stood, and she leaned forward against me, burying her face in my shoulder, her whole body shuddering.
I tilted her head up and kissed her forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks, and then her mouth.
My one hand still cupped her swollen pussy, which throbbed with aftershocks, and my other propped me up against the sink, where I’d have to give it a good wipe before leaving.
Chloe pulled back and looked at me, eyes rimmed red but full of something bright.
“I love you,” she said, and I felt the blood drain fully out of my body.
I tried to laugh it off. “You’re only saying that because I just made you come,” I said, but she shook her head, her face serious.
“I’m not,” she insisted. “I love you, Teddy Cooper. And I know that’s not fair to say, and nothing’s changed. But I think we’re better together than we are apart, and I love you.”
I smiled weakly. “I love you, too,” I said softly, and she smiled back and kissed me.
But she was right. It didn’t change anything. Even if I desperately wished it could; even if it was the only thing with a chance of making a difference. It still didn’t.
“I’ll give you a moment,” I said, standing up and reaching around Chloe to rinse my hands off. She caught my face in her hands as I leaned past her, kissing me again, this time soft and sweet. Jesus Christ, I would miss this woman.
“That’s okay,” she said. “I’ll go and use the other bathroom. See you back with the others.” Her voice was light and hopeful in a way that broke my heart.
As I finished cleaning up and headed back out to where the others were setting up for the session, I couldn’t shake off the weight of what had just happened between us.
Something that should have been a beginning felt more like a goodbye; one we’d both known we’d have to face eventually.
The words we’d said, so often described as a bomb, had done nothing to blow up our situation. Our inevitable demise.
When I remembered what I was about to do – what only Fatima knew about – my heart sank.
I’d been prepared for the ache of knowing I’d disappointed Chloe when I left, but I hadn’t actually been ready for an in-person goodbye.
And as she settled in her seat across from me, smiling at me, still basking in the glow of what we’d just shared, the weight of what I was about to do to her came crashing down on me.