“Raw.” Her voice cracks.
God.
I sweep her into my arms. She gasps as I set her down on the cot, head to the wall, legs facing me.
I sink between her knees, sliding her thighs up over my shoulders. Anticipation shimmers in her eyes as I slide two fingers inside. She moans, head rolling back as I stroke her, head disappearing to where she needs me.
I hesitate at the last second, breathing her in, savoring every part of this. The way she’s trusting me with this, sweet and devastating.
She screams the first time I touch her. Already so swollen, so sensitive beneath my tongue.
I learn her slowly with my mouth and hands, memorizing every sound she makes, every movement of her body against mine. Her walls flutter around me.
Yes.
Fuck, yes.
Her hand grips my head, pressing me hard against her as she comes, drenching my face and beard. I don’t stop tasting her, working her with my hands and tongue until she’s breathing too fast, body jointless and sated.
When I sit back on my heels, wiping my beard with one hand, she sits up, pulling me back between her legs. Her wanting me like this. Her showing me in so many little ways that she’s into this the way I am.
That’s everything.
I slide up to her, my forehead touching hers. She palms my face, thumb stroking over my beard.
We’re lost in each other’s gazes now, breathing the same air. Caught in the same fragile moment.
It could stop here. It would be enough for me. Just this.
Her looking at me like I’m still worth touching. But her eyes don’t stop there. Still thirsty, still asking for more.
And I can’t say no to her. I realize that now. Too damn late.
I hover over her mouth, not sure what she wants. Her lips find mine, tongue sliding into me. Tasting herself on me.
My boxers strain, desire curling at the base of my spine. I pull them free, desperate for release. She eyes me hungrily, wetting her lips.
God.
But I have to feel her fracture around me again. I have to please her, show this is more than grief or desperation or loneliness.
This is me choosing her despite every reason not to.
The realization slows me down. Makes something inside me go almost reverent.
Her arms wrap around my neck, legs around my waist, and I lift her from the cot, pressing her back against the wall, eyes searching her face. All the shields between us finally gone.
“This still what you want?” My voice drops at the end.
Her hand grips my cheek, her lips bee-stung and slightly parted. “Yes, Rhys, you’re what I want. And what I need.”
My vision blurs. Can’t help it. I feel too many things at once, and she sees it. Sees into the vulnerable parts of me. The weak ones I never show anyone.
And she holds space for me. For this.
I grip her hips and ease into her slow, forcing myself not to rush this. Her breath catches, eyes fluttering shut as she takes me inch by inch.
“That’s it,” I whisper, kissing her temple. “I’ve got you.”
