“I’m okay, Beck. Please don’t stop.”
He gives me a second, but I’m impatient. The burning feeling from the stretching has melted away since I got more wet, and I just want him inside of me now. I wiggle my hips to encourage him.
“There she is,” he soothes. He slowly pumps in and out of me, letting me get used to him before he pushes his entire length into me. Fully bottomed out in me, he groans and pauses as I adjust. I can feel myself pulsing around him, but I can’t control it.
“You feel so fucking good,” I pant. “I need you. Fuck me, Beckett. Please, I need you.” I’m begging, and I don’t give a single fuck. He takes a breath and holds it for a moment and then pushes his hips closer against me, rocking slowly. It’s a bit uncomfortable at first, I’m not used to his size, but the pleasure overrules any other sensation quickly. He pulls back and surges forward again, carefully pounding into me in a slow, measured pattern.
I grab onto him, my fingers searching for a place to get purchase, and I eventually sink my nails into his shoulder blades. He inhales sharply and his eyes find mine, staring at me as he picks up his pace. “If you keep scratching me, this ain’t gonna last long, baby,” he strains out. “It feels too fucking good.” A moan comes from deep in him and it feels like a challenge.
I dig my nails in deeper and drag them along his back. He reaches between us and pinches my clit again, making me squeal. This does something to him. His expression shifts to something primal and he pounds into me, bottoming out with every thrust. Now, I’m holding onto him with my nails because I’m being moved every time he’s slamming into me, and I feel them scraping along his skin.
Whatever language I’m speaking at this point isn’t a recognizable one. I’m trying to beg him and encourage him, to tell him I’m going to come, and tell him how perfect he feels inside of me. It’s all jumbled. I finally stop even trying and just whimper, because it’s all I can do.
“That’s it, baby. Come for me. Come on this fucking cock, Clover. Tell me whose little cunt this is. Can you do it, sweetheart? Are you going to come for me?”
His words are emphasized by every movement he makes, making it all a bunch of single words instead of sentences. I can’t respond. All I know is I feel my whole body tense up and I cry out. “I’m coming,” I try to say, but he knows, based on the smile on his face.
“Yes, baby, god you’re squeezing me so tight,” he groans, trying to keep the pace. I know he’s going to come soon, too.
“Please,” I whisper, and I feel the warmth of him spilling inside of me as my eyes roll back.
When he rolls off of me, I reach for him, wanting to touch his face. He pushes his cheek against my palm and kisses it a half a million times. We both laugh quietly, sporadically, basking in the afterglow of this.
He brushes a tear off my cheek that I didn’t even realize was there.
“Are you okay, darlin’?”
“I think so,” I answer. “Lots of endorphins, I guess.”
“I’m going to go get you some water, sugar, and a warm cloth, okay?”
I nod, and he leans in to kiss my forehead.
“I’ll be right back, don’t move.”
He brings me a hot washcloth first, since the bathroom is right off his bedroom. He pulls a pair of sweatpants on and closes the door quietly behind him to go get the other stuff.
I’m well aware of my tears now, and they’re flowing.
I’m still in love with Beckett Hayes Hollis, and I don’t think I can let it go this time. I just don’t know if he feels the same.
BECKETT
Ipull two cold waters from the fridge and dig around in the pantry for the pack of sour gummy worms I got at the store the other day. It’s a risk, I don’t know if she still likes them or not, but. She needs sugar. I had to hide them at Lennon’s request, though. I smile, thinking about earlier.
Then I feel a tightness in my chest and I freeze. Is this a panic attack? It doesn’t feel like one. I just had what is hands down the best sex in my entire life with the one person I never got over. I’ve never really thought about emotions after sex. Yeah, it feels good. Great. The level of intimacy just now, though? The way I felt like my body was specifically created for her and her alone? Unreal.
I lean against the fridge for a second, letting the cold steel cool me off while I try to figure out what the fuck is wrong with me. I need to get some sleep soon. I told Mom I’d bring the girls by her house in the morning. My chest tightens again at the image of all of us in my truck, going to Mom’s. I run my hands over my face when I realize it’s not anxiety or a heart attack or anything wild.
It’s hope. It’s fucking hope.
When I get back up to the room, Clover is still in my bed. Her breathing is steady, and she’s got my favorite pillow clenched in her fist like it owes her money, pulled right up to her. I watch her for a second and wonder what her life’s been like. Why did she never get married? Why did she come back to Ashstone Ridge instead of just pivoting where she was? She mentioned kids, but why doesn’t she have at least one in tow by now? She’d make a great mom, I’ve known that since we were kids. I have so many questions, but instead, I lean in to gently wake her up. Her eyelashes are wet. She was crying while I was gone. My Lucky girl, how can I make you feel the joy you give me?
When I touch her, she opens her eyes slowly and focuses on me. She gives me the purest, warmest smile, and it breaks me.
There has never been, and never will be, a person that can fill the space in my heart that Clover Jane Kerrington exists in, and I don’t know what to fucking do with that knowledge.
* * *
