I pull out and slam back in, both of us groaning. “Like hell you did.”
Starting a vicious rhythm, dragging her back as I drive forward, a gasping squeak at every impact urging me faster, harder, we create something so violently perfect I couldn’t imagine a moment like this with anyone else.
Reaching around, I gather some of the wetness that’s practically weeping from her and circle her clit, a chant of ‘shit, shit, shit,’ falling from her lips like a prayer.
Then everything in her grows so goddamn tight that I know I’m not lasting any longer than she is. Sure enough, she comes with a yell that competes with my own, my vision flashing white as pleasure barrels through me, so all-encompassing I’m not even sure I’m still alive.
The thundering of my heart is the only hint I am. That and the way my balls are being sucked dry by her continued clenching spasms. “Fuck,” I mutter, dropping my forehead to her back, the fabric of her swimsuit bunched up by my chin, my shorts still halfway down my legs. “Fuck.”
When I finally slip free, she spins, her arms wrapping around my shoulders, forcing my weight on top of her.
“Wait—” I say, my brain not ready for words, but still with it enough to know she was tied up a moment ago.
“Told you I let you win,” she says, her nails trailing down my spine.
“Brat.”
“Better than the perfect little good girl.”
The bitterness in her voice drags me from my pending post-nut nap. Cradling her face in one palm, her skin so damn soft that I just want to pet her, I wait for her to explain.
“That’s what I thought I was. Or what I wanted. I wanted to be perfect. Good. And I never was, not really.”
“You’re not a bad person, Clara.”
Her lips twist, and I give into the urge to kiss them straight again. “You’re not.”
“I’m not good either.”
“Tell me, what’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”
“You know everything that I’ve done, everything that’s brought me here.”
“And you think that makes you bad?”
She shrugs, and if I were riding less of an orgasm high, I’d shake her.
“What about me?”
The look she gives me would hurt if I didn’t know she’s not judging me, just trying to figure out why I asked. “No, you’re not bad. You’re a good guy who’s been stuck in a world that doesn’t let you be that guy. A good guy who has to do bad things.”
It’s my turn to disagree. “You’re wrong. I almost killed you, Clara. That was all me. Fuck, I killed some guy with a wife at home because my father pointed and said ‘go’ just a few weeks ago. I’m not the good guy you wish I were. The good guy I could have been has been dead for long enough that I can’t even remember what it felt like to be him. I’m not good. But I’m not all bad either. You better than anyone should know that shit’s a spectrum, not a dichotomy.”
“The law would say it’s a dichotomy.”
“Good thing we don’t follow the law.”
This startles a laugh out of her, some of the pain leaving her face. She flings off the remains of her suit, then tugs me back against her, the flowery scent of her surrounding me as I take this tiny respite from the shit we’re currently mired in, the heat of her skin against mine heaven.
We’ve earned it.
And if she wants a rematch, I’m more than game to let her win any day.
Chapter 81
Walker
This paper isn’t as high quality as the last batch, but RJ promised it was from a legitimate source.
