“Jesus,” he mutters, a laugh in his tone as he grabs a condom. He gives his cock a slow stroke as I watch. “I think I’ll take it as a compliment that you’re calling my dick a stallion.”
“Take it as you’d like. Just fucking ram him home already.”
“Good God,” Oakley says, grinning now as he rolls the condom on. “Isn’t this supposed to be my penance for roping you earlier? ’Cause I can’t say I’m upset about any of it.”
“Told you you wouldn’t be,” I point out. “And you know I’m not actually mad about that, right?”
“I do,” he says, easing forward, one hand on his dick as he notches against me. He pushes in ever so slowly, even though I can tell he’s hanging on by a thread himself. “You just enjoy giving me shit for the heck of it. Always have.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is,” he says, pressing further forward, his cock opening me up the same way his fingers did. I focus on the feel of it, the fullness a unique sort of pleasure that makes my mind blank and every inch of my body tingle, as if enveloped by a comforting haze. Oakley goes on, his voice husky as he sinks deeper. “You like… toying with me because I’m the one person in your life you don’t have to be responsible around. You can let loose, and you know I’ll never judge you. I’ll never… think less of you for finding joy in the littlest things.”
My breath catches, his words throwing me temporarily off-kilter, despite me knowing it to be true. All of it. “Because I trust you,” I tell him needlessly.
Oakley swallows hard, his hand on my thigh, his hips pressed flush against my ass now. “I know you do.”
“So you can’t leave me again.”
His face falls in an instant, the sorrow in his eyes making me wish I could take the words back. But I’ve never been good at filtering myself around Oakley. The one time I tried, he went and left Montana. Leftme.
I can’t let that happen again.
“God, Law,” the man murmurs, tucking my leg around his hip before closing the distance between us, his weight pressing me down against the bed. “I’m so fucking sorry for that.”
“I know you are.”
“And I’m not leaving again,” he says, his eyes imploring me to believe him. “I didn’t realize this was still weighing on you.”
I don’t have a thing to say in response, knowing it shouldn’t still be. The man is back. I believe him when he says he’s not going again.
But the years I spent without Oakley were arguably the worst of my life. The thought of losing him a second time is terrifying. I’m not sure how I’d cope.
“God,” Oakley mutters again, his head falling beside my own as he tucks himself firmly over me. His hands slide up the outsides of my raised arms, Oakley’s elbows on the bed to either side of my head. “I’m sorry.” The words are accompanied by a slow roll of his hips. “I’m sorry, princess.”
“Don’t,” I manage, my voice coming out hoarse. “Don’t fuck me like an apology, Oak. You already did your sorries. I don’t want this to be…to bethat.”
He puffs out a breath, turning to press his lips to my jaw. “You’re right.”
“I know I am.”
He snaps his hips a little harder, the glide of his cock making my back arch. “This better, princess?”
“Mhm.”
Oakley burrows his face into my neck as he starts fucking me in earnest. There’s an urgency in the way he’s coiled around me. A pleading in every rut and touch, although for what I can’t figure out.
I’m too quickly lost to the euphoria, the passing of time ceasing to exist, no troubles able to touch me while I’msuspended here. One of Oakley’s hands glides up and down my arm, each fingertip trailing electricity, his mouth finding spots on my neck to abrade. Down to my clavicle. Near my armpit. My ear, Oakley’s chuckle when I groan like a pleasant sort of static in my head.
“You’re gone, aren’t you?” he murmurs, his voice whisper-soft, although everything sounds a little fuzzy.
“’S’good, Oak.”
“I know, princess. I don’t wanna touch your cock yet. I’m not done torturing you.”
I open my mouth to respond, but Oakley beats me to it.
“I know, not torture. I’m not doneworshipingyou. Enjoying every piece of you.”
