19. Gentle
Gentle
Vedder
Her room was cute. Powder-pink wallpaper with stenciled rose buds and white furniture.
Teddy bears and unicorn stuffies collected dust beside her academic certificates, trophies for spelling bee, robot summer camp, and debate club.
Well-worn paperbacks of medieval romances stacked horizontally on floating shelves along the wall.
Her quilt was pink and gray, thick and heavy.
Posters of last decade’s biggest pop stars were on the walls, all peeling from at least one corner, and she had a laptop on her desk with a big monitor. It was the only thing that seemed to have been purchased this decade.
Then there was her, on the twin bed, staring at me with lowered lashes and lust in her eyes that matched my own. I lay over Melody, our clothes barely separating us as I pressed my hard cock against her, my jeans causing needed friction that intensified my ache for her.
“Last chance to turn back,” I whispered against her lips. “I kiss you, then it’s sealed. You’re mine.”
“If you want to turn back, you should.”
I swallowed.
She never rejected me. It was almost as if she couldn’t. Like she was conditioned to please. I loved and hated that. I hated that she thought I was able to turn away. But I loved that she was so easy to read that I didn’t really need to ask.
I’d asked for myself. Not for her.
I wanted her so badly that I had to be sure that I wasn’t seeing what I wanted to see. That I was reading her right. That I wasn’t deluding myself.
“If you don’t want it, I will back off. I can wait for you to be ready…” I needed her to know it wasn’t now or never. It could be now. It could be later. “I’m not interested in anyone else. I can wait. I’m not going anywhere.”
Her eyes widened. Astounded. Tears fell from the corners of her dark lashes, glistening as they trailed from her temples to her pillow.
The gratitude in her gaze hurt. Someone made her think she wasn’t worth waiting for.
“I’m sorry.” She wiped her tears, but I took her wrists and pinned them by her head.
“I want to see.” I kissed her forehead. “I need to see what you’re feeling.”
I deserved it…didn’t I? To see the parts she hid from everyone else. To feel her pain alongside her.
“I wish I could kill whoever made you feel like you weren’t worth waiting for.” Pain didn’t go away in an instant. Years of scarring didn’t disappear in the blink of an eye.
But while I wanted her to be herself in all her pain, joy, and tenacity, she needed me to be a man in all my desire, lust, and greediness. It was time to be naked in front of one another to move a step into what she and I needed to be.
“I need you to remember your safe word,” my lips hovered over hers.
She yielded so beautifully to me, her back arching just a little, legs spreading to accommodate me as I settled between her thighs.
“Say it for me, one time.” I couldn’t help but have a little taste, my tongue lightly flicking against her lower lip. An appetizer. Just a tease to whet an already raging appetite.
“Tea.”
I nudged my nose against hers. “Stop me any time.”
I plunged in, all tongue, teeth, and recklessness as I sucked her into me. I took her breath and grabbed her hair by the roots, pulling her even further into me, swallowing her moans along with mine, pushing my hips against hers for the relief of friction that only made us burn hotter.
Mine. She was mine.
I was making her mine.
And no whiskey, no chocolate, no drug could taste better than this. Than her. Than the feel of her arms around my neck as she held on.
“I’m going to be gentle…this one time. You just got hit by a car, baby. But you will know that I want you.” Gentle didn’t mean I wasn’t possessive.
But I was out of practice, so maybe gentle was better.
I fumbled with her jeans, desperate to keep our connection and clumsy as my shaking hands tugged too hard to pull them off her legs. My frantic fingers unfastened two buttons before I growled into her lips, pulling her shirt apart so the buttons scattered along the floor.
I tore my lips from hers. She whined, leaning up towards me, desiring the connection the same as me.
“Mine,” I whispered as my hands moved inside her shirt, circling her waist and pulling her stomach flush against me. I cursed myself for still having clothes on.
I palmed a breast through her bra, my fingertips feeling the pulse over her heart. Her eyes shuttered closed, and I bit down on her earlobe, sucking it into my mouth. I was rewarded by her barely contained whimper.
“Mine,” I whispered again.
I said it to her. To claim her.
I also said it to soothe myself. To tell myself this was real and she was here. And she was mine. I could hold her, surround her, protect her. She was everything I needed and worshipped, and in this moment, her breaths, her pulse, her whimpers, her sighs all belonged to me.
I owned very little.
I had no need for much.
But I needed her.
I pulled off my shirt, only sparing the buttons because some quiet voice in the back of my head said I’d have to walk out of here without scaring the shit out of the kids, before roughly removing my jeans and socks—because I refused to be naked in socks; it was weird, and I didn’t want to ruin the moment with something as fucking weird as being naked in socks.
We were gloriously bare, we fell together, her legs around my waist, my cock nuzzled between her folds. Our noses inches apart.
“I need you to keep your eyes on me.” I cupped her cheek and held her gaze, refusing to let her look away.
“You’re insane if you don’t think I know it’s you…”
I almost smiled.
That was the horrible thing, wasn’t it? Our past cast shadows over this perfect moment. Hers, and mine. Both tragic and trauma-riddled. But…then again, we were our pasts, too. The pain, the scars, the hurt we would heal for each other. That was what made us fit.
My cock slid against her entrance, and I groaned at her heat. I felt it everywhere.
“I’m ready for you,” she whined, eyes pleading. “I’m ready, please.”
How could I deny her? How could I ever deny her anything? Anything that was asked, and not asked.
I fisted myself in my hand. We both sighed with relief as I slowly entered her. As she opened for me. Not just her pussy, but her eyes, her body, and her mind. She was spread naked. A feast made just for me.
I wanted to jump into this with both feet, just like I’d promised I would, but something held me back.
“I don’t want you to regret this.”
I don’t want you to regret me.
“I’ll regret it if you don’t.” Her hand touched my cheek, and my tears matched hers. “If we don’t try…”
We all had unbreakable chains. We all had pasts that hold us from what we could be. But we could fight for every inch, every link in the chain, and push forward until we had enough room to breathe.
And Melody was that breath.
I kissed her again, tasting her mouth, her warmth, her life.
I pushed into her and savored her tightness strangling me even as she beckoned me in, welcoming me with legs that hooked around my waist. She pulled as much as I pushed, until we were connected as far as I could go.
I was too big, and she was too tight, and somehow it was perfect because we could not ignore each other, and I was man enough to admit I wanted to weep with joy and stay here for the rest of my existence.
Because this was life.
My life. Her life.
This was it. The best that I would ever have, and better than anything I could have ever dreamed.
“Mine!” I cried against her lips, and she cried too.
“Mine,” she whispered back.
She was perfect. The girl next door. The one with a family, a house, and a life in which I could be useful.
She was a purpose I could wrap my soul around.
I wanted more of her. More of us. I wanted more of all this.
It was perfect but also imperfect, so I had something to do here.
I had a place in this house, a thing I could give and contribute to, and she was a person I wanted to work for in every possible way.
“I love you.” It slipped out, but I didn’t regret it.
“I love you, too.” There was no hesitation.
When you know, you know. And I had known for a long, long time.
Every thrust given received a moan in return. Our bodies joined, hot and slick.
“Never leave me,” she whispered.
“Never let me go,” I whispered back.
It was in that promise we had our release. I already knew she was mine and I was hers, and that I would live the rest of my existence earning my place in her twin-sized bed until she let me buy her a larger one. One where we could expand and take up more space as we settled into ourselves.
I would only hold her tighter, love her harder, kiss her deeper from now until I died.