The orgasm seems to go on forever, each wave more intense than the last, until I'm boneless and gasping and completely undone. He's still moving, chasing his own release, and I can feel him getting close. His rhythm becomes erratic, desperate. His breathing is ragged against my neck. "Savannah—fuck—I'm going to?—"
"Wait—" The word comes out strangled. "Romeo, wait—I'm not—I'm not on birth control?—"
“I can’t—” He surges inside of me, and his voice breaks. "I can't stop. I'm sorry, I can't?—"
He buries himself deep inside me one last time, and I feel him pulse, feel the heat of him filling me. He groans against my shoulder, his whole body shaking with the force of his release.
For a moment, we just stay like that—him buried inside me, both of us breathing hard, the reality of what we've done slowly sinking in.
"Oh God," I whisper. "Oh God, what did we?—"
"Shh." He kisses my temple, my cheek, my lips. "It's okay. It's going to be okay."
But I can hear the lie in his voice. Because nothing about this is okay.
I just had sex for the first time with a man who isn't my fiancé. A hundred yards from the university gala where he still is. Where anyone could have seen us.
And Romeo just came inside me.
12
ROMEO
The moment I feel her clench around me, the moment I hear her gasp my name as she comes, something inside me shatters.
Every carefully constructed wall, every lesson my father drilled into me about control and discipline and never letting emotion dictate action—it all crumbles to dust.
I'm buried inside her, feeling her pulse around me, and the only thought in my head is: mine.
She's mine. She has to be mine. I'll make her mine.
I didn’t mean to. I swear I fucking didn’t. But it’s never felt like this before. Being inside of her is like touching heaven, it’s making me feel things I didn’t know were possible, and I couldn’t fucking stop.
I needed to come inside of her. I needed it like I need to fucking breathe.
Sex has always just been about release for me. I’ve never felt emotion during it. But this…
It feels like my fucking soul is ripped through my cock when I come inside of her. I come with a force that feels like it's tearing me apart, spilling inside her, marking her, claiming her. Andwith each pulse, each wave of release, all I can think is that I hope she gets pregnant, that she’ll be bound to me so completely that leaving becomes impossible.
It's insane. Some part of me that is still rational knows that. But in this moment, with her body wrapped around mine, with her scent filling my lungs and her taste still on my tongue—I don't care.
I want her to be mine. I want it to be too late for her to change her mind.
When I finally come back to myself, I'm breathing hard, my forehead pressed against hers, my body still trembling with aftershocks.
What have I done? What have I done?
“Oh God, what did we—” Her voice cracks, and I feel cold ripple down my spine. I’ve fucked up. I knew I would fuck up.
I manage to keep my own voice steady. “It’s going to be okay,” I whisper, kissing her temple. I’m still buried inside of her, and I don’t want to slide out. I want to fuck her again. I want to keep her on my cock forever.
I want to keep feeling this terrifying, consuming feeling that I’ve only ever felt with her.
“You came inside of me.” Her voice trembles.
"I know. I'm sorry. I couldn't—I tried to stop but—" I couldn’t stop. God himself couldn’t have pulled me out of her. But I know I should have.
“I might be—” She’s breathing harder now, sounding panicky, and I regretfully let myself slip out of her, setting her down gently. Her knees are weak, and she holds onto my arm as I tuck myself away, her skirt falling back around her feet. “I could get pregnant.”
