Walk Backward into Hell
Dawson
The room glowed with the warmth of the fireplace, every surface gilded gold, but none of it compared to the impossible heat of the woman in my arms. She curled against my side, her head tucked under my chin, and for the first time in years I was at peace—not the forced calm I wore for the world, but a shattering, soul-deep relief.
I pressed my lips to the top of Sadie’s head, breathing in the unique floral scent of her hair, and for a suspended moment, I almost believed I deserved this.
Her hand moved idly, mapping the planes of my chest with slow, delicate sweeps, fingers catching in the scattering of hair near my sternum.
I could count on one hand the number of people who’d ever touched me like this: not with want, not even with need, but with wonder.
Like she’d never expected to find herself here, like “here” was the only place she’d wanted to be.
I tried to tell her she didn’t have to do anything she wasn’t ready for, that she owed me nothing.
That this was enough, more than enough. But the words jammed up in my throat, all the things I’d rehearsed for years fracturing into fragments, and what came out was so gruff and halting that I almost winced at myself.
“Sadie,” I managed. “This is…you…we don’t have to—”
She stilled instantly, her hand flattening over my heart.
The rhythm under her palm wobbled, then steadied.
She tipped her head up, catching my gaze with a quiet intensity.
Her lashes made dramatic shadows on her cheekbones in the firelight.
For a second, I thought I’d broken the spell, ruined it, just like I’d ruined everything else between us.
But instead of recoiling, she let out a slow, steadying breath, and her lips curled up in a knowing grin as if she’d been expecting my self-sabotage.
“I know,” she said, voice low and calm. “I know we don’t have to.
” Her thumb moved in a tight, soothing circle, right over the spot where my chest threatened to come apart under her touch. “But what if I want to?”
I didn’t know how to answer that. I’d spent so many years shoring up defenses against the idea that she could ever want me again that the possibility left me speechless.
I was supposed to be in control here—the steady one, the protector, the guy who took her apart with just a look, a touch—but she’d always had the power to flip the script.
Even now, when she was soft and vulnerable in my arms, she was the one holding the switch.
“Are you sure?” I asked, searching every angle of her face for any sign of hesitation.
If there were even a flicker of doubt—if she wanted to stop, if she needed air, if she realized this wasn’t right—I’d leave.
I would have walked backward into hell for her, just to keep her safe from another mistake, especially one she might regret in the morning.
The firelight illuminated her features, making it impossible to hide her feelings.
She looked at me with an intensity that made my chest ache, lips twitching at the corners like she held a long-kept secret.
She kept her gaze caged on mine, and then, so fluidly it might have been a dream, she shifted, rolling up and over me in one practiced, graceful move.
Her thighs slid around my hips, and she perched above me, knees planted in the deep cradle of the down comforter, her hair a silken curtain that fell around us like the walls of some private tent.
For a second, she just sat there, suspended above me, her eyes locked to mine, radiating so much certainty it felt like the world had righted itself.
With a wicked deliberation that felt almost ceremonial, she traced my jaw with her knuckles, then lowered her mouth to mine—hard, claiming, no room for doubt or retreat.
“Yes,” she whispered, and nipped at my bottom lip, triggering a groan I didn’t even try to suppress. “I’m very sure.”
Her hands clutched my shoulders, featherlight, but there was nothing gentle about the way she kissed me.
It was wild and fierce and hungry. She licked into my mouth, her tongue tangling with mine, and I opened to her, helpless against the onslaught.
Her nails scraped down the hard slope of my chest, leaving trails that burned even after she moved on, and I gasped into her mouth.
When she broke away, she hovered over me, chest heaving, lips parted and wet, and the look in her eyes,—holy hell, I could drown in it.
I reached up and cupped her hips. My fingers dug in as she rolled her body.
Her eyes locked on mine. She shifted forward, and I saw the flush on her cheeks.
I felt how desperately she wanted me. She lifted her hips, and the friction of her sex gliding against my cock made me see stars.
I was already painfully hard, my engorged tip was throbbing.
I could feel the heat radiating off her core.
She rocked her hips again, slow and deliberate, watching me intently, the way my hands dug into her flesh and my jaw ticked.
She was teasing me, re-learning me, and I fucking loved it.
With her hands braced on my chest, her breasts swayed, nipples pebbled and flushed.
She reached between us and wrapped her fingers around my base.
The contrast of her soft skin and my aching heat made me moan.
She stroked me with slow, measured pulls, her eyes fixed on mine, like she was watching every second of my unraveling.
I bucked up, desperate for more, but she just smiled, clearly enjoying the sensual torture she was inflicting on me.
Then, without warning, she rose up, holding me with one hand as she lined my crown to her opening.
Her seam spasmed against my head. Her eyes stayed locked on mine as she took me inside her, inch by excruciating inch.
I watched as she impaled herself on me in one greedy, perfect plunge.
My shaft disappeared inside of her tight canal, her walls fluttered around my girth.
The sensation knocked the air from my lungs.
Her gasp became my groan, and I clutched her hips so hard my knuckles whitened.
After forcing herself all the way down, she stilled, allowing her body to adjust to my size.
It had been so long since I’d had sex with no protection, my body was pinging with bliss.
When we were together as teenagers she was on the pill, so we hadn’t used condoms, but as an adult in other relationships, I’d never taken the chance.
But this was Sadie. The love of my life.
My soulmate. The person I thought I was going to grow old with.
She moved on top of me, setting the rhythm that had her moans growing louder and her arousal coating my shaft.
I watched as she pumped up and down, taking her own pleasure.
I held her hip in place with one hand and the other I moved to her beautiful breast. I squeezed and kneaded her flesh, pinching and teasing her nipples exactly the way that used to drive her crazy.
When I did, her sex clamped down on me, which only heightened the experience. As she continued to ride me, her thighs began to shake and I sensed it wasn’t due to her being close to the edge, it was from her muscles being tired.
I pushed up to a seated position, threaded my arm around her lower back, and pulled her body close to me so her bare breasts were flush against my chest. Her legs automatically wrapped around my waist, and she rolled her hips, grinding into me.
Her hands gripped my shoulders, her nails digging into my flesh.
She nuzzled her face into my neck. The heat of her breath fanned down my body, and somehow all the years that we’d been apart just disappeared.
It was like no time had passed at all. We were together again, all the feelings I’d tried to suppress, tried to deny, tried to ignore were back in full force.
My hand spread over her ass cheek and I squeezed her plump flesh, guiding her movements as she ground her hips against me.
As we moved together, I could feel her body beginning to build to her release.
Her velvet tunnel clenched around me as her breaths came in shorter and shorter pants.
Knowing exactly what she needed to get her up and over the edge.
I flipped her onto her back in one swift movement, her wild hair fanning across the pillow as I pinned her wrists above her head.
Our breaths did battle, hers sharp and startled, mine a guttural rasp that burned the air between us.
She didn’t struggle, she just looked up at me, eyes wide with equal parts hunger and trust. The way she surrendered to my strength sent a jolt of primal satisfaction through my veins.
For a heartbeat I simply stared down at her, taking in the undiluted need on her face, memorizing the flush that painted her cheeks, the way her lips parted in anticipation.
Then I hooked my hand behind her knee and dragged her thigh up around my waist, opening her to me completely.
I pressed myself against her slick heat, teasing her entrance with the swollen head of my cock.
Her hips arched up, and she made a needy sound that threatened to shatter my self-control.
But I was determined to make this last, to draw out every ounce of desperation that had lived between us for years.