I meet his eyes, seeing everything there. The hunger, the need, the emotion in his eyes.
"I need to see you when you come again. Need to watch you fall apart on my cock."
He fucks me harder, his thumb finding my clit, and I'm already close again. My pussy is clenching around him, pulling him deeper.
"That's it," he growls. "Take it. Take every inch."
"Nico, I'm… fuck, I'm coming again!"
My second orgasm rips through me, more intense than the first. My pussy spasms around his cock, and I see his control finally shatter completely.
"Marisol," he groans, his rhythm faltering. "Fuck, I love you."
The words hit me like lightning.
"I love you," he says again, clearer now. "Not because you survived. Not from fear. I love you because you're mine. Because you're the only person who's ever made the silence worth living in."
Tears spring to my eyes as he continues fucking me through his confession.
"I love you," he says once more as his cock pulses inside me, filling me with his cum. "I fucking love you, Marisol."
We come together, him pumping into me while I clench around him. He collapses on top of me, both of us breathing hard, sweaty, completely wrecked.
After a moment, he rolls us so I'm on top, his cock still inside me, our combined fluids leaking out around him.
"You said it," I whisper, tears sliding down my cheeks.
"I meant it." He wipes my tears with his thumb. "I've meant it for longer than I knew how to say."
"Say it again."
"I love you."
"Again."
"I love you, you demanding woman." His smile is real, unguarded. "How many times?"
"Forever. My retention is shit when it matters."
He laughs, and I feel it through his whole body, his cock twitching inside me.
"I can work with forever."
Later, much later, we've fucked twice more. Once with me riding him, bouncing on his cock while he watched my tits bounce, while I left nail marks on his chest that might scar. Once against the wall because I challenged him to hold me up for ten minutes. He held me for twelve, fucking up into me while I bit his shoulder to muffle my screams.
Now we're wrecked, tangled in sheets soaked with sweat and cum. My pussy is sore in the best way, still leaking his cum. His hand is in my hair, my head on his chest.
I trace his tattoo, thinking about death and rebirth.
"You should add today's date," I say.
"Why?"
"Because something died today. Your belief that you destroy everything you touch."
His hand stills. "That's not how it works."
"Maybe it should be."
