Chapter 17 #5
Weller lies on his side facing me and slips one arm beneath my neck. His free hand travels over my ribs and hip, pausing before his fingertips brush carefully across my ass. Then he draws me close until my breasts press against his chest and his thigh fits between mine.
“Closer,” I whisper.
His arm tightens. “This is as close as I can get.”
“It’s not.”
“I think you’ve had enough.” His mouth touches mine, and it’s not a kiss meant to take or push. There’s no tongue demanding room or teeth catching my lip.
“Almost.”
The head of his cock brushes my swollen pussy and I flinch. I’m sore. Really sore. It feels like I just fucked a battering ram.
“I still need you.”
His fingers slide between us and test the slick mess the others left behind, touching me with none of Tristan’s calculated torment. He watches my face as one finger slips in, then a second, learning what my body can bear.
“Is this okay?”
“Yes.”
He eases them deeper. I contract around the gentler intrusion; it’s a different kind of torment.
“Still?”
“Stop interviewing me.”
He kisses me as he enters. It’s painfully slow and tender. Nothing sharp enough to steal my thoughts. When he’s finally all the way inside me, he doesn’t move.
My body waits for the next thing. A hard thrust. Fingers on my clit. An instruction. There’s nothing. He tucks my face beneath his chin and holds me while his cock throbs deep inside me and the sound of the surf rolls through the open balcony door.
“Weller?”
He begins moving shallowly. I wrap around him with a soft, wet ache, and he repeats the movement at the same unhurried pace. He isn’t chasing the sounds out of me. When one slips free, he kisses my temple. When my breath catches, he waits for the next one.
Everyone else has gone maddeningly quiet.
Weller strokes my hair away from my sweaty face.
“You’re so precious to me, Bianca,” he whispers into my hair.
Get some rest, precious girl.
A sob comes out of nowhere, loud and horrifying, my mouth wrenched open against his throat. I clamp my lips shut, but the next one leaves me gasping.
I bury my face harder against him, trying to hide from whatever humiliating breakdown my body has scheduled for the middle of being fucked. Tears run hot over my cheeks and into his skin. My nose is running. I can’t get enough air, and the harder I fight for silence, the worse the sounds become.
“I’m sorry.” The words break apart against his neck. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s... wrong... with me.” My throat is tight and the words are a struggle to get out.
His hand lifts my face from his throat. “Focus on me.”
I try, but his features swim.
“Can you breathe?”
My first attempt catches. Weller draws one slow breath through his nose and releases it against my mouth. I follow badly. He does it again, keeping his forehead against mine until air reaches the bottom of my lungs.
He moves to pull out, and panic cuts clean through the crying. I lock my leg around him and grab his shoulder. “Don’t. Don’t leave me.”
“I’m only giving you room, not leaving.”
“I don’t want room.” My grip tightens until my nails bite his skin. “Please just stay. Stay inside me.”
His lips part. Nothing comes out.
“Do you want me to move?”
I shake my head.
“Then I won’t.” He kisses my temple. “You’re safe. I’m here.”
His attention moves past me. “Freddie, water.”
Freddie puts the glass in Weller’s waiting hand and backs away only far enough to give him room. Owen and Tristan are hovering.
Weller lifts my head enough to bring the rim to my mouth. “Take a sip.”
I manage one swallow before another sob shakes most of the second down my chin.
“You’re okay. Let’s try again.”
Weller holds the glass to my lips until I take a drink, then gives it back to Freddie.
The sobs weaken into hiccupping breaths. My face feels swollen. My eyes burn, and there is probably snot on Weller’s neck.
Very attractive.
“I must look disgusting,” I mutter.
Weller wipes my face with a wet cloth Tristan hands him before I can object, which is probably the most intimate thing anyone has ever done to me. “You’re as beautiful as you’ve always been.”
“Don’t lie to me. I’m leaking from everywhere.”
“And still beautiful.”
I bite the inside of my cheek and refuse to cry again out of spite.
His cock is still inside me, no longer as hard as before but far from soft, and the awareness returns.
I roll my hips.
His grip on my thigh tightens, but he doesn’t move.
“Weller. I want you to keep going.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” I press my mouth to his. “Please.”
Another tear slips toward my temple. He kisses it before it reaches my hair.
“I was so lonely,” I whisper, and my breath stutters when Weller begins moving again, even slower than before. His next stroke catches the rest. “I can’t bear to be separated again.”
His next breath shudders out of him. He pulls me flush and kisses me with the first hint of hunger he’s allowed himself.
Pleasure gathers quietly beneath the wreckage. Warmth spreads through exhausted muscles, and Weller’s hips lose their perfect rhythm. His cock grows thick inside me, the swelling at the base pressing against my tender entrance.
“Bianca.” My name fractures in his mouth.
I pull him closer. “Knot me.”
His eyes close.
“Please,” I whisper. “I want you to stay.”
He pushes deep and holds me as his knot swells, sealing him inside me. I whimper and his hand cups the back of my head, keeping our foreheads together as the pressure crests into a deep, pulsing ache. His release is warm and mine follows.
“I love you,” he murmurs into my hair.
“I love you... all of you.”
Freddie pulls the blankets over us, and Owen settles close enough behind me that his chest warms my back through them.
Tristan mentions something about food and I hear the door open and close.
Their breathing gradually slows while Weller rubs my back, the motion so soft and soothing my eyes grow heavy.
The sound of the surf erases everything beyond it.