“Choke on it for me.”
I fisted her hair into a ponytail, rocking her head back and forth to take more and more until my balls drew tight and I couldn’t waste another second not buried inside her.
Even as I dragged her up my body by her hair, reveling in the way she stopped and kissed every inch of my torso, leaving a trail of her mouth in her wake, igniting more than lust between us, it was pure fucking passion and affection. Despite me being rough, regardless of the wall of pain we were ignoring—or the reason we were even naked and sparring one another in the first place—there was so much respect tangled into this mess.
Ophelia kissed her way up my throat, to my chin, and I wretched her against my mouth in another hard lock of our lips that lasted heartbeats longer than I intended it to. Our bodies melded into one; I could feel her every breath like it echoed in my bones.
“I love kissing you,” I whispered against her lips, “but I really love fucking you, and I need it right now. I need to feel you from the inside, baby. Okay?”
“Okay,” she said.
“Are you still mad at me?”
“Furious.”
“Good.” I pinched her nipple and tugged on it. “Lay on your belly and hang your legs off the edge of the bed.”
She hesitated, still dangling on her last thread of resistance. My fingers relaxed into gentle strokes and I turned her body, flattening my palm into the space between her shoulder blades, bending her toward the ruffled sheets. I stood on the floor behind her and dragged her by her ankles all the way to the end, where her ass was the perfect height for my waist and then tugged that final obtrusive layer of her panties down to her feet.
“You tell me you want it and then you fight me.” I lined myself up between her legs and let my cock rest at her entrance, sliding it back and forth tauntingly. Half the friction was for me; I was dripping precum, and my dick was so full it was nearly red. I curled myself over her back until my chest was flush to her spine and my lips grazed her shoulders and neck. “It’s fucking hot.”
“You’re obsessed with me,” she mumbled with her cheek squished against the bed. All her hair was in disarray around her face, hanging in her eyes and over her lips. I bent her arms and pinned her wrists right at her tailbone.
“And you’re a tease.” The tip of my cock breached her, dipping in a mere inch, just enough to wet me and alleviate some of that pressure. She wiggled her hips, swallowing more of my length before I was ready for it and my whole lower half turned into one beating pulse that rang like a gong.
Fuck gentle, fuck passionate, fuck calculated. She needed it just as badly as I did, and if we were going to use one another one last time, it was going to feel like seeing God and living to imbue it.
I grabbed onto her waist, her skin melting between my fingers, and thrust into her all the way to that deep, sensitive wall that had her screaming my name. Ophelia’s pliant cunt wrapped around me with every hard punch of my hips inside of her. The deeper I pushed myself the more impossible it became to have a sense of surrounding. Just me and her, the euphoria that was being connected, every nerve ending vibrating, stimulated, heating to an explosive, catastrophic climax.
I made sure she felt every last hard inch of me all the way in and out with nothing to do but take it and babble every colorful swear word she knew into the fluffy white hotel duvet.
“I am obsessed.” I sunk my teeth into her shoulder as our bodies moved together. A damp film of sweat was starting to curl the short pieces of hair at her neck. “I’m obsessed with this pussy. I’m gonna fuck it so full you never forget how empty it feels without me.”
“Frankie,” she whined. My thrusts hit faster and her hips lifted off the bed. “Please—please.”
The grip around my cock tightened, warm walls contracting in warning. “Oh, you’re gonna come on me, aren’t you?” Her nod was so faint and lazy, I tugged her back by her hair and forced her face off the bed. “I don’t want your little whimpers. I want to know who you belong to, and whose cock you’re gonna come all over like a good, submissive, grateful fucking girl.”
“Yours,” she ground out. “All yours, it’s all yours.”
“So give it to me,” I grunted, reaching beneath her hips and rubbing my fingers over her clit. Ophelia wilted like flower petals, curling in on herself. Her muscles tightened around me, her pussy fluttered like the wings of a butterfly, one big swooping movement followed by a hundred smaller spasming ones.
My eyes rolled somewhere into the back of my head.
I miraculously managed to pull out of her before I went over the edge too, flipping her tiny, exhausted body onto her back and then shoving my cock right back inside of her. I cried out from the pleasure. Her groan was a hot mix of shock and overstimulation. Sharp fingernails dug into my back, right below the curve of my shoulder blades, and my god it would have been a miracle if she hadn’t drawn blood.
“Mark me, baby. Leave me with something. Make me think about you every single time I fucking breathe.” I didn’t want to shower without the sting of water on tender flesh, or lie down without feeling her hands on my back. I wanted her long after the night poured into the morning and I had to pretend I didn’t. “It feels so good. I don’t want it to end.”
Ophelia’s lips twitched, knowing that confession transcended the sex. The pads of her fingers crawled up my neck and cupped my face, dragging my mouth down onto hers.
“I don’t want it to, either.”
My hips stuttered, and everything from my head to my heels hummed together in glorious unison as my cock flared inside of her, emptying in long, numbing pulls. All the while Ophelia held me the way I needed her to, clutching and digging, sinking into my skin where we both knew I’d never fully be able to heal the scars.
40
It felt like yesterday I was filing out of baggage claim with blind hope about a snarky pilot I’d met on the flight. Now I was attempting to shove three weeks of self-discovery and a pseudo-relationship into the bottom of my rolling luggage for the return to Colorado in a day.
For once I wasn’t homesick for mountains and snow. I didn’t care to return to the fresh scent of wind-swept pine needles. I didn’t miss the cold air or the bite of frost every morning on the walk to my car. I wasn’t worried about my siblings, or my students, the lesson plans I didn’t write or the emails I left unanswered.
What I was dying to sweep like sand into a little glass bottle to keep was the smell of espresso leaking out of the coffee machine. The feel of my skin wrapped in flannel and cotton, warm fingertips tracing tan lines beneath the shade of covers. Secret kisses, butterfly wings, waves of brown hair tangled in between my fingers. I wanted to liquify the sound of his sleepy voice the first thing in the morning. Shove all of the moons we looked up at, and all the grass we walked on, and all the flowers we stopped to admire into a jar and keep them forever.
Big, annoying feelings for the woman who spent so much time thinking emotion like that could never exist.
“Your carry-on looks like you robbed a toy drive,” Nat said.
The gifts I’d wrapped to take home were stacked inside a tote bag and garnished with silver bows. I couldn’t shove them in the suitcase without crushing everything, and Nat already had to sit on it while I wrestled the fickle zipper shut.