Chapter 17 #3
Reed has been talking to me this whole time, low and reverent and filthy, telling me how beautiful I look like this, how he’s been picturing exactly this for weeks, how he can’t believe he gets to see it.
“One more, baby. Give me one more. I know you have it.”
I shake my head weakly, but he slides the vibrator inside me on a pulsing setting and presses two fingers to my clit, and somehow my body finds another one.
It’s almost too much, right on the edge of overstimulation, and it goes on and on, leaving me limp and shaking on the mattress when it finally fades.
He turns the vibrator off and tosses it aside.
He’s hard again, and the sight of him sends a weak, fluttering pulse through me.
I reach for him, tugging on his arm, and he leans down over me and braces himself on his forearms, his mouth finding mine in a messy kiss.
If what he just did was torture—the best kind—for me, I get the feeling it was the same thing for him.
He’s so hard that his cock is dark and veiny, precum dripping from the tip as it brushes against my thigh.
He pulls back to look at me after a few beats, his hair falling into his eyes.
“That was a lot,” he murmurs, his thumb dragging across my bottom lip. “I just couldn’t stop myself, you looked so fucking gorgeous. But I’m sure you’re worn out. We don’t have to—”
I shake my head. “Shut up and fuck me.”
A slow, hungry smile pulls at his mouth.
The hand resting on my jaw tightens just slightly, and the look in his eyes makes me whimper. He kisses me again, harder this time, then delves into my nightstand for another condom. He rolls it on with hands that aren’t quite steady, and I can hear how rough his breathing has gone.
When he lifts my hips and slides into me slowly, we both let out twin sounds of pleasure.
I can tell he’s being careful with me, and my worn out body appreciates it.
I can tell that my pussy will be sore tomorrow, but I’m so wet and turned on right now that he works his way in easily.
He fucks me slow and deep, his eyes locked on mine, and I lift my hands to run my fingers down the ridges of his abs as they flex.
Even when he gets close, he doesn’t go too hard. But I can feel him straining for control, the tendons in his neck standing out as a sheen of sweat gleams on his skin.
“Fuck, baby,” he grunts. “I’m gonna.”
“Do it,” I gasp. There’s no way in hell I can come again, but I want so fucking badly to feel him come, to watch him fall apart. “Fill me up, Reed.”
He won’t, not really. He’s wearing a condom, but still, my words seem to have some effect on him. He groans roughly, leaning over me and bracing is forearms on the bed beside my head as he pumps several more times and then stills.
Heat is pouring off of his body, and I realize that I’m sweaty too. My hair is probably a mess by now, and muscles I didn’t even realize I had feel like they’ve gotten a workout.
Reed’s large body rests on top of mine for a moment, and I blink lazily as I go limp under the pleasant weight of him. Once we’re both breathing a little easier, he rolls off me and onto his back, and we lie side by side in the half-dark.
For a long while, neither of us speaks. The tension that’s been sitting in my chest for weeks has finally drained out of me, leaving me heavy and loose and almost too tired to think.
My body feels sated and used in the best way.
From the corner of my eye, I can see Reed’s chest rising and falling, slowing back to normal, and the quiet between us doesn’t feel awkward at all.
When he finally speaks, I can hear the grin in his voice.
“I haven’t felt this good in weeks.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, me neither.”
He turns his head on the pillow to look at me, and I glance over at him too. His hair is a mess and his eyes are heavy-lidded, his lips a bit swollen and his cheeks flushed. He looks so real and human that makes my heart skip.
After a long beat, he gets up and pads into my bathroom to get rid of the condom.
When he comes back, he stretches out next to me and his hand finds mine on the mattress, his fingers lacing through mine without him seeming to think about it.
His thumb brushes over my knuckles, and that tiny gesture makes my throat go tight.
I force myself to speak before I can change my mind about what I’m about to say.
“You should…” I clear my throat. “You should probably head back to your room.”
His thumb stills against my knuckles. “Yeah?”
I wince, worried that I’ve insulted him. But… “That was the deal, right? Sex, but no feelings. I feel like sleeping in the same bed would probably cross a line.”
He’s quiet for a minute. Then he nods. “Yeah. You’re right.”
Still, he doesn’t move right away. He turns my hand over in his and traces a line along my palm with his thumb, his eyes on mine, and the look on his face is one I can’t quite place.
Finally, he sits up. He leans over and presses a kiss to my forehead, lingering there as his breath ghosts over my skin through the part in my hair.
Then he gets out of my bed and pulls on his pants.
At the door, he pauses and looks back at me, his face shadowed.
“Goodnight, Olivia.”
“Goodnight.”
He closes the door behind him. I bite my lip, listening to his footsteps fade down the hall, and tell myself I made the right choice. This is exactly what we agreed to.
Once I’m sure my legs will work, I get up to use the bathroom, wash my face, then crawl into bed, pulling the sheets up around me. I curl into a ball, my eyelids starting to droop, but as I start to drift off, a sliver of worry creeps into my thoughts and takes root.
Even though I was the one who brought up the fact that we shouldn’t share a bed, I can’t stop the gnawing, overwhelming feeling that I might be falling for Reed.
That if I dive too deep into this, I might not be able to swim back to the surface.