In my head, this played out perfectly. It’s exactly what we both want, isn’t it?
Yet now, as we lie here in this abandoned building, sated and dirty and tired, I can’t help but wonder if I’ve ruined it all.
I don’t know what I was expecting. I hadn’t thought past telling him I knew who he was.
Did we then run away into the sunset together? Holding hands and skipping like all is right in the world?
Did we walk out of here together, holding hands and smiling at each other?
That’s not us. That’s not what we do. It never has been, and it won’t be. I’m fine with that, but… where do we go from here?
I hadn’t anticipated Jaxon taking this badly. I was excited, and I thought he would be excited too. Yet… this doesn’t feel right.
The storm outside starts to ease, and I’ve caught my breath, but Jaxon is still breathing heavily—hyperventilating, maybe.
“What did you say?” he breathes out.
I grip the end of his ski mask and carefully pull it over his head. I run my fingers along his cheek, brush my thumb over his lips, wishing I could see him through the dark.
“I know it’s you,” I say softly, still running my fingers along his cheek. The restraints are digging into my wrists, and the more I pull on them to touch him, the more it hurts.
“How…”
“Can you take these off?” I ask. He doesn’t move. “And maybe we should talk about this somewhere else.”
Still, he doesn’t move. I don’t know how to take this, I don’t know what he’s thinking.
“Jaxon,” I whisper. “I—”
“Fuck,” he growls, his voice full of pain and hurt. His body starts to shake, his forehead coming down against mine. His breaths are shaky, and I can tell he’s trying to keep it together.
“It’s okay,” I whisper. “I’m okay with it. It’s okay.”
His breathing gets heavier and more ragged, his body still shaking.
I do the only thing I can think of. I grab his face and bring his lips to mine. I feel the wetness of his lips before I taste the saltiness of the tears, and it chokes me up.
I don’t know why this is so emotional for him. I don’t know why he’s so upset about it, but I’m going to find out.
The kiss turns frantic, like he can’t get enough of me. I try to pull away, but I have nowhere to go.
“Jaxon,” I say, pleading. “Jaxon, pl—”
He nips at my lip, his tongue exploring my mouth. Whimpers and groans fill the room, and I’m not sure he’s hearing anything I’m saying.
“Jaxon,” I say a little harsher. “Let me out of these.”
With a growl, he pushes up, grabs onto the ropes right after my wrist and tugs so hard something on the desk breaks and lands on the floor.
But I’m free.
Before I can say a word, his mouth is back on mine and he’s lifting me up, pulling me to him. It feels like he needs me to live, like if he stops or slows, he’ll die.
I let him take what he needs.
He tears his mouth away from mine before dropping to the floor and going back to my pussy. I cry out, my hands digging through his hair. I don’t know how it happens, but he makes me come again, and I’m pretty sure this time it turned all my bones to noodles.
“Sailor,” he says frantically, his mouth coming back to mine. “Sailor, Sailor, Sailor…” He repeats my name over and over like a chant or a prayer between kissing me—my lips, my neck, my jaw, everywhere he can reach. I have to taste like absolute shit, but he doesn’t seem to care.
