With no hesitation, I slid easily down his length, gasping at the fullness. The stretch was a welcome ache, a pain that distracted me from the one clamped around my heart. Jonah barely managed to hold it together: a hand gripping the bedsheets, his fingers gritted together, eyes rolled back in his skull.
When he looked at me again, my smirk returned. “You holding on there?”
“You make it difficult not to come,” he said, as if the words were strangling him.
In answer, I squeezed, rolling my hips forward, my own pleasure intoxicating. “I love being a challenge.”
“Baby, you’re no challenge.” He smiled, gasping as I ground forward, his cock buried deep inside. “You’re a blessing.”
His hand moved to my clit, giving me extra pleasure as my body moved against his, my movement low and deep. We worked together, my back arching backwards to change the angle. Every motion sent new sparks through my body, both of us creeping closer to the edge.
With Jonah, it was never a performance. He never made me feel like an object, a toy to be used. He never made me feel like a pretty thing that was only made for him; he accepted me as my own person with my own body, and I was sharing it with him, like he was sharing his own.
It was something new.
And I was losing it.
Pretend.
Jonah caught me by surprise, pushing himself up and twisting us around so my back was on the mattress.
“You were killing me,” he said, burying his head into my neck, kissing and nipping at my throat. “And I want to watch you come.”
With every movement of his body, I rolled my hips to meet his, my fingernails clinging to his back as he edged me closer and closer. I dug deeper, trying to hold onto him, like if I tried hard enough – kept him close enough – we’d never be apart.
“I want you to wreck me,” I said, begging even. “I need you to break me.”
Because, after all, that’s where we were heading. And at least if we went there, he’d still be with me.
Jonah sped up, hammering into me like he needed it too. “You take me so well, Kit,” he said. “Fall apart for me, baby. I wanna feel you.”
With another thrust, I did. I clenched around him, the pleasure overriding every thought in my brain, erasing the countdown, pushing reality away, and leaving me with him. My sweaty body ached and shuddered against his, held perfectly in his arms. The heavy weight of his body above me was a welcome one, keeping me safe.
I knew it was the last time. That our days together had run out. That there was a good chance I was in love with this man in a way that felt different. It made me feel brand new, and shiny, and like I was the best version of myself around him. Like if I could take him back to the real world with me, my life could change, could be exactly what I wanted.
But he wanted more, he wanted kids, and he deserved that life I couldn’t give to him. Not after last time.
So, I had to pocket this love, trap it, and be strong enough to let him go.
I could do it.
For him, I would do it.
twenty
JONAH
Flightless Bird, American Mouth - Iron & Wine
Kit grinned at me, her blue eyes alight with glee. “Say it again.”
I only rolled my eyes. “You’re making fun of me now.”
“Come on,” she crooned, head tilting forward. Her long blonde hair fell forward, soft, curled strands tickling my arm. “Just for me.”
I sighed loudly, eyes rolling again as I gave into her, being careful with my American tongue not to fuck up the pronunciation. “Ci-lyd.”
“Céilidh, tennis boy. LikeCay-lee.” Kit clapped her hands, practically kicking her feet in glee. “It sounds so stupid in your accent.”
