Her heavy breaths hit my neck. She holds onto me, and I leave my fingers inside her until I feel her pussy slow, then bring them out to drag her release on her thighs. I massage the one, kissing her neck softly, reassuring her that she’s okay.
Eventually, I pull back and push her hair away so I can see her face. Her cheeks are flushed, mascara pressed under her eyes. She’s crying so hard that she has to sniff.
And all I can do is stare and hold her, softly pressing my lips to her face so I can kiss away each tear still lingering behind.
“You are so fucking beautiful,” I whisper.
She exhales an open mouth breath, her cheek rubbing against mine, eyes still closed. “I… Words,” she manages, and I smirk.
Steadying her in front of me, I lean in and kiss her cheek again. “Don’t take this as me pressuring you. Take your time. I can wait for you. But don’t ever fucking push me away again,” I say sternly.
It comes out more threatening than I meant it to, but at the feel of her lips curving, I know it’s the tone she needed to hear.
“That sounds like a threat I want to tempt,” she says.
I straighten and swipe my thumb over her cheek, heart fluttering at her devious smile. “It isn’t,” I say. “You’ve never cried the way I’ll make you cry.”
“I like crying,” she says. “Everyone says I’m pretty when I cry.”
My tongue swipes over my lips, and I huff amusedly. “You’re fucking stunning when you cry,” I manage. “That makes it even harder not to hurt you.”
“What if I want to be hurt?” she asks, her eyes finally opening. “What if I want you to hurt me?”
Shit, her eyes are pretty.
A trembling breath leaves me, and my heart sinks as I think about how betrayed she’s going to feel once I tell her who I really am.
“You don’t have to beg for that,” I say. “I already am.”
Smiling, Bonnie leans in again and nudges my nose with hers, then kisses me once more.
“Does this mean we have to go back to being just friends?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I say.
She kisses the corner of my lips, and I turn my face away.
“Why does it have to be all or nothing?” she whispers.
“Because I won’t survive watching you with anyone else,” I rasp.
I tip her chin back when she looks at me, and I can see it in her eyes—the desire for more, the hesitation at giving in entirely.
I kiss her cheek. “It’s okay, Bonnie,” I tell her. “I want to wait for this. I want all of you.”
“No one wants all of me,” she says. “I’m a disaster.”
“You’re my disaster, and I want everything.”
I take a step back then and take her hands to help her off the table. Bonnie slides off, and before she turns to get dressed, she takes off the green thong.
I eye her as she stuffs the soaked, lacy fabric into one of the pockets of my pants.
“What’s this?” I ask, smirking at her.
She shrugs. “I like the idea of you walking around with my underwear in your pocket.”
If only you knew how many times I’ve done that already.
