I free my cock and she reaches for it immediately, wraps her hand around me. I hiss at the contact, at the sight of her small hand stroking me.
"I want," she confirms. "Please."
I lift her onto the counter, step between her spread thighs. She wraps her legs around my waist, pulls me closer. I line myself up, pause at her entrance.
"Look at me," I command softly. "I need you here, Val. With me."
She meets my eyes and for a moment—just a moment—the walls come down. I see her, really see her, and what I see terrifies me. So much pain. So much guilt. So much fear.
Then she's kissing me and I'm sliding inside her, slow and deep, and we both groan at the sensation.
"Fuck," I breathe against her mouth. "You feel?—"
"Don't stop," she gasps, rolling her hips. "Please don't stop."
I set a rhythm—slow, deep, thorough. Each thrust deliberate, purposeful. Her nails dig into my shoulders, her breath hot against my neck. I can feel her climbing again already, can feel her tightening around me.
"That's it," I murmur in her ear. "Let go. I've got you."
"Zay—" My name is a prayer, a plea.
I slide one hand between us, find her clit, circle it in time with my thrusts. She's close, so close, trembling and gasping and so beautiful it hurts to look at her.
"Be honest with me," I whisper against her temple, still moving, still driving into her. "Let me in. Let me help you."
She stiffens slightly, and I feel it—that wall slamming back into place. Even as her body responds, even as she's moments from coming, her mind retreats somewhere I can't follow.
"I—" She can't finish. Won't finish.
I kiss her anyway, pour everything I'm feeling into it—want and need and worry and something deeper I'm not ready to name. She responds desperately, like she's trying to tell me something she can't say out loud.
We come together, a tangle of gasps and moans and muffled cries. Her pussy clenches around me, pulling me deeper, and I bury my face in her neck to muffle my own sounds.
For a few moments, we just breathe together, foreheads pressed together, hearts racing.
Then she leans in to kiss me—soft, tender, almost apologetic.
I pull back.
She blinks, confused. Hurt. "Zay?"
"I can feel it," I tell her quietly, not letting go but creating space between us. "That wall you've built. Even now, even after this, you're still hiding from me."
"I'm not?—"
"Yes, you are." I cup her face in my hands, make her look at me. "And I don't know how to help you if you won't let me in. If you won't be honest with me."
Tears well up in her eyes. "I can't."
"Can't or won't?"
"Both," she whispers. "I can't—if I tell you—you'll?—"
"What?" I press. "I'll what? Leave you? Stop caring? Val, that's not possible. Don't you know that by now?"
She shakes her head, tears spilling over. "You don't understand."
"Then make me understand."
