Tears blur my vision as he moves inside me—hard, relentless, like he’s trying to burn himself into me.
I hate him for it.
Hate myself more for needing it.
My orgasm lies on the edge of the horizon as he picks up his pace. His thrusts are relentless, filling with sorrow and anger as he takes everything out on my body.
“You feel so good, Rory,” he growls. “Just like coming home.”
His words do me in, and my orgasm takes over. My legs begin to quiver, and I tighten around him, slowing his pace to a near halt.
“So tight,” he whispers.
Once my body is done convulsing, he pulls out of me, carries me to my bedroom, and lays me on the bed. He removes my shorts, along with my underwear and pushes his pants down the rest of the way.
When he climbs on top of me, I push at his chest once more. “What are you doing?” I squint my eyes.
He pushes himself back inside me, and I arch my body off the bed. “I’m not done with you, baby.”
I shake my head as he slowly inches out and then thrusts back in. “We don’t make love, Ryven. It’s fast, and it’s dirty. That’s what makes sense.”
He slams inside, and I claw at his back. “Then, maybe we should change that.” He groans as he glides out and rams back in.
For the next fifteen minutes something shifts. Not in him but in the way he touches me. He fucks me with a tenderness I haven’t felt from him since highschool. Every stroke is deliberate, like he’s trying to memorize my body again. As if he might lose it. He hits all the right spots inside me and even presses his mouth to mine, running his tongue inside.
I come to the edge of bliss again, moaning his name as he spills his seed inside me. For just one breathe the room feels quiet, nothing but the sound of our straining lungs trying to catch our breath. And then it all comes crashing back in. The feelings. The way our bodies mold together so perfectly. I squeeze my eyes shut at the rush of emotions threatening to break free. I don’t want this anymore. I don’t want to feel like this anymore.
Chapter 13
Ryven
Lying on the bed, I plant my elbows and look at Rory’s face. I gaze into her eyes and trail my fingertip along her chin. Her lips beg for another kiss.
I need to just tell her how I feel. I almost do. The words sit right there, and yet I choke on them. I always do. She has to know. But I haven’t said “I love you” since Joey died.
We’re different people now. I’m not even sure she remembers who I used to be. I barely know who I used to be.
She raises her brow. “Don’t you fucking dare, Ryven.” She hits my chest, and I roll off her.
I watch from my side, resting my head on my elbow as she scurries around her room for her clothes. “What don’t you want me to do?” I ask.
She scoffs. “Don’t make this emotional. It’s messy enough already.”
“How the hell do you know I was about to bring any feelings into this?”
She stops mid–pulling up her shorts and stares at me. “Just because we are no longer together, Ryven, doesn’t mean I don’t fucking know you. That look? I know it. And I don’t have space for that shit anymore.”
She waves me off. I should feel the pain of rejection, but there’s no use. We both know her words are hollow. They always have been. At least… I tell myself they are.
“What is wrong with you today, anyway? First, you show up at my door at seven in the morning unannounced, and then you make love to me. Are you okay?” She says it like she doesn’t care, but she asked, and that has to mean something.
She sits on the end of the bed and tries everything in her power not to look at my exposed crotch. I put her out of her misery, dragging the sheet over my waist. “I just had a long night, is all.”
She shakes her head. “Cut that fucking crap. Either tell me what is wrong, or get the hell out of my house. I have shit to do today.”
I sigh and lie on my back, staring at her ceiling.
“It was another sacrifice, wasn’t it?” she whispers, seemingly lost in thought.
