For a moment, I can’t fathom the years that have passed between us. Time feels irrelevant, just a cruel trick of distance and silence in the time apart. Because here he is, looking down at me with the same obsessive devotion and the same raw hunger, as if not a single second has passed since he last held me. Every fiber of my being still belongs to him.
This time it’s my turn to reach for him, and he doesn’t hesitate. He surges closer, closing the gap, until his body pins me against the desk. His cock grinds against my core. He’s so hard, unrelenting, and I bite back a cry at the sheer pressure of it. My panties are already drenched, clinging to me, not doing much to soften the reality of how badly I want him inside me.
Instead, I lift my hand to his cheek. He leans into the touch like a starved man, like a child deprived of love, and sometimesI forget that he was. His vulnerability was exposed and reserved only for me to witness. His hand grips my thighs, spreading me wider and dragging me closer to accommodate him. My fingers find the clasps of his mask, and even though I am desperate to claw it off, I undo them one by one, and he helps me—tearing it off and tossing it aside.
Suddenly, there are no barriers between us. No masks and no obstructions. No more walls and no more lies. Only his eyes burning into mine, with a wild hunger that makes the breath seize in my chest. He clings to me like I’m still his entire world, but the rigid length straining against me tells me another truth, a darker, more primal one. His hands tremble with reverence, yet grip me with desperation. It’s the duality of him, the man who wants to protect me, and the beast within him that wants to devour me. When he leans closer, I can tell that we are beyond remembering now, and beyond tenderness. His mouth crashes onto mine, and I moan into him, clawing at his jacket, at his shirt, and anything in my way, frantic for bare skin. Frantic for him. He presses into me harder, cock grinding against the thin, soaked fabric that does nothing to protect me from him. I rock helplessly against the pressure, chasing the friction, chasing the years we’ve lost with every thrust of his hips. It’s his demand. It’s my plea. But it’s our surrender.
THIRTY
VIC
Iclose my eyes and let the world dwindle to the two of us. To the heat of her body pressed against mine, and to the ache in my chest that has lived there for years. This is it. This is the moment I’ve dreamt about and hoped for. She presses against me, and I can feel her wetness through her soaked panties. It’s the last straw, and I can’t hold back.
“Baby,” I breathe, the word more prayer than a demand. My lips trail hot kisses along the hollow of her throat. She throws her head back, and I taste the saltiness of her skin, her tears, and everything else I’ve missed. “I need to be inside you,” I confess with raw emotion. “I need to feel you wrapped around me.”
Her lashes flutter. When she turns to face me, her eyes burn with a wickedness I’ve missed. The dangerous, familiar spark I’ve hungered for is there, and I’m so ready for her. A smile quirks at her mouth, edged with the residue of her tears and my handiwork. “God,” she smiles, “I’ve missed your filthy mouth.”
“Say it.” I clamp my hand around her neck, holding her gaze prisoner. “Say you're mine,” I implore.
She answers first not with words, but with movement, bringing me toward her, as if the closeness will erase all thoseyears apart. Then, barely a whisper, she announces, “Vic, I’m yours.”
The last of my restraint snaps. My mouth devours hers. My hands find the band of her silk panties, and I tear it free with one easy snap, the thin fabric crumpling to the ground at our feet. She hisses sharply, a sound I’ve always loved to hear between our kisses. I ease back, just enough to kiss her, my lips bruising hers as my fingers fumble at my belt, the ache in my cock nearly unbearable. She presses closer, desperate for me like she’s been starved all these years. When I’m finally free, the air sizzles between us as I line my length against her heat.
I press myself into her, feel the shudder of her through nothing but the meeting of our joined skin, and enter the space between us with a movement that rocks the table, with the need to force away the loss of all our nights apart. The first push steals my breath. I want to watch. To see her body open around me. To witness the way she stretches, the way that she takes me like she was made for it. Her whimper slices through me, nearly unraveling me on the spot. Her legs snake around my waist, heels digging into me with commanding urgency. I obey without thought, driving forward in one thrust that buries me to the hilt. The sensation wrecks me. It's hot. It’s tight. And it’s so perfect.
A groan rips from my throat. There is no gentleness now, only the furious, hungry rhythm we once knew and have been starving for. She meets me in every thrust of our bodies, answers each claim of my heart with hers, as our bodies meld together with their own familiarity. I watch her, savoring how her face twists with pleasure, the way she bites her lip to hold back those tiny, maddening sounds. My hands lock around her hips, holding her in place as her back bows in abandon. I drag her against me, my grip bruising and unrelenting, grinding deeper with each thrust. My cock finds the perfect spot inside her, andI fight the pull of my own release, desperate to wring her climax before surrendering to mine.
“God, you're so tight, baby.” The word tears out of me as each thrust tests my control. Then I still my movements, remaining buried deep inside her, my breath sharp against her ear. “Tell me, angel…have you been only mine?” My pace slows, deliberate, punishing, as I drag out the truth I already feel in her trembling body and how she squeezes my cock. Her tears spill, hot down her cheeks, and in that instant, I know my answer. She hasn’t let another man touch her. In all these years, she’s been mine and only mine. Just as I’ve been only hers, too scared to forget her in someone else, or worse, let the darkness that has always been a part of me take over. Only she could calm the beast within me. My chest tightens, my cock pulsing with the force of it, begging for release. But I grit my teeth. No, not yet. She deserves more than that. She deserves to be worshipped.
I bend forward over the desk, hovering above her, and caging her in. She gasps beneath me as my lips claim hers in a searing kiss. It’s not tender, it is consuming. I let her feel every ounce of regret, rage, and devotion poured into the way my mouth meets hers.
“It’s only been you, baby. My angel. Only ever you.” The confession tears for me as I drive into her. The words are as urgent as the pounding of my cock inside her. My mouth trails her throat, licking up and down her neck, before tugging at the top of her bustier. The fabric gives way, and her breasts spill free into my hands. I knead one, and tug at the other greedily and frantically like a teenage boy with his first crush. That’s how it’s always been for us. Her legs lock tight around me, dragging me deeper, and I clutch the edge of the desk with white-knuckled hands to steady myself against the flood of sensations in me. I haven’t felt this much in years, and now I’m overwhelmed by a merciless sensory overload. Our kisses turn frenzied, frantic. Ifeel too much of her—her lips, her breath, and yet, I still can’t get enough. My teeth graze her neck, biting down until she gasps, then I soothe the mark with my tongue, circling, claiming, and branding her all at once.
I roll my hips, grinding into her with deliberate precision, hitting her clit in the way I remembered she always loved. Her body answers me as she shivers, tightens, and fights its surrender. She shakes her head as if she can stave off the inevitable, but I grip her jaw, holding her steady, forcing her to look at me when she comes. And then I feel it, her walls pulsing around me. The unmistakable grip of her body giving in. “Baby,” I groan, as I stare her down as she rides hers out. “I’m going to come.”
“Come inside me, Vic, please.” Her plea is the last thread holding me back. I lose myself with a roar, driving into her until I spill, filling her up with my cum and hoping selfishly that she gets pregnant. I know there is no one else that I’ll ever love. No one will ever truly understand me, except for this woman.
When we come back together, it’s something brutal, yet beautiful to witness, all the same—a collision of our mixed grief and lust that feels like a punishment and a reclamation. The room blurs until only the two of us remain, moving and clinging to each other, as we both ride out the high of our orgasms, until the world comes back into focus, and we’re exactly where we belong.
When I pull free, I watch the slick sheen of us clinging between her legs, my seed dripping out of her in a slow trail. Possessiveness burns through me, searing every nerve, as I look at her utterly wrecked beneath me and thoroughly claimed. Her make-up is smeared, her dress pushed down, her panties in tatters on the floor, with her leaking my cum down her leg. She’s never been so beautiful as in this ruined state. The sight makes me hard all over again.
“Fuck, baby.” The words rasp out of me as I drop to my knees, picking up her ruined panties and stuffing them in my pocket. Pressing a kiss to her swollen pussy before, slowly licking lazily through her folds, she props herself on her elbows, watching me with a look that is both tender and wicked. The smile she gives nearly undoes me. When I suck gently at her clit, teasing with light flicks of my tongue, she lets out a breathless laugh.
“Vic, you tease,” she whispers, her voice thick with affection and need. I rise, my mouth still wet from her juices, and crush my lips to hers. She pulls me in deeper, sucking on my tongue, until my knees threaten to give way. She sits up, and I tuck myself back in, my eyes catching on the dark wetness seeping into my trousers.
“Oopsie,” she sings, biting her finger as her eyes sparkle with mischief.
“Hm.” My brows raise in question. “Try again, angel.” I coax, lifting her
chin upward to look at me.
“Sorry?” she offers, but it sounds more like a question than an apology.
And for the first time in years, I laugh. A real laugh, one I thought incapable after the day I thought she left.
“Are you though?” I ask, and she shakes her head.
“Nope.” She moves to stand, but I’m already there, steadying her, and righting her dress with the utmost care. It’s almost surreal that no one has come in. Perhaps they heard us and retreated, or maybe the time was but a blip in their radar. But to me…To me, the minutes stretched into something eternal.
