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I couldfeelhis laugh inside of me. “Not yet, you haven’t.”
I feared he might have been right.
Slowly, achingly, brain-scramblingly, he pulled himself back, sliding along my insides and hitting every spot I could ever hope for. But then he was pushing back in, unrelentingly and carefree, andthatwas enough to send me spiraling.
I couldn’t even focus on moving my fingers. It waseverything.
“God, you fit me perfectly,” he hissed, his fingers tightening along the back of my neck. “Come here.”
His cock moved inside of me, but I could barely process the sensation of the front of my body being lifted up, my back arched, head tilting back to rest against his chest. He hit a new angle like this, andthatfilled my vision with little bright lights, stealing my breath until I could remember to breathe again.
One of his hands replaced my stagnant one, and holyshit, he was right, this wasn’t death, not yet. I reached up for his neck to steady myself, sounds I wasn’t even positive were coming from my throat filling the room, but theysoundedlike me, and matched every strum of his fingers against my clit.
I couldn’t even bring myself to meet his thrusts halfway. I was limp and useless, just a toy to be thrown around and manipulated however he wanted, and for once, I wanted nothing but that. Already, I was rapidly approaching orgasm, and if I wasn’t already incapacitated, I couldn’t imagine being much more useful than I already was.
But then his other hand moved.
The one that held me around the back of my neck slipped forward, his arm coming to rest across my chest, and his fingers gripped my throat from the front side. “Yes, yes, yes, please,” I moaned, the first coherent thought I’d had being one I’d neverwanted to voice. I reinforced his position with my free hand over his wrist.
“You like that?” he laughed, the sound far too deep and menacing.
His thrusts turned rougher the moment I nodded my head.
“Goddammit, you fucking do,” he cursed. “You’re squeezing me like a vice.”
His thumb and middle finger dug in on either side of my neck as his palm sat flush against my windpipe, just like I’d done to myself time and time again in the comfort of my bedroom, pausing the blood flow. I didn’t dare say a word, not when the only one running through my mind was his fucking name.
“Tap my hand when you want me to stop,” he grunted.
Second by second, I hurtled toward the edge, his fingers at my clit keeping their pace. Just as I reached it, the sides of my vision darkened, and I frantically tapped my fingers against his hand.
He released immediately, and I did too.
The head rush hit me as pleasure set fire to my veins, sending me crashing and falling over the edge, shaking, twitching,dying,and coming back to fucking life. He pulled me through it,fuckedme through it, and at the exact moment his fingers touching the most sensitive part of me turned from pleasure to torture, he removed them.
How he knew my signals better than I did was a mystery to me.
“Good fucking girl,” he praised, his voice soft as his movements became choppy, rushed, and desperate. He held me around the waist and the neck, with not an ounce of pressure again on my throat but enough to keep me locked in position. “So good, so…shit, so good for me.”
I looked up at him as his head tipped back, a groan filling the air as he broke, his digits twitching around my throat. His chestheaved as his hips slowed, warmth filling me from the inside, and with every leisurely thrust he gave, I could feel him leaking from me, could feel the warmth of him on my thighs.
I held onto the back of his neck, kept my back arched, and held myself in position as he slowly came to. I didn’t dare move until his hold began to loosen.
He began to retreat, and to my absolute surprise, I spluttered a plea for him to stay inside. I didn’t want to give it up yet. I couldn’t remember a time that I’d ever asked someone tonotget out after sex, but I knew that once he was gone, I wouldn’t feel it again. Knew that the end of it meant that we’d likely go to sleep, knew that would mean the end of our encounter, knew that would mean the end of my time with Adrian.
I didn’t want it to end. I’d spent so long dreaming about it, wishing for it, praying for it—and I’d had it. He’d given it to me. But every beginning has an ending, and as much as I desperately didn’t want this to be it, he couldn’t give me forever.
Not when I wasn’t evenAva.
Chapter 4
Adrian
The sky had only barely begun to lighten to a dark blue when I stirred awake at my usual time.
Jersey City’s streetlights were still lit across the Hudson and provided the only light through the long window at the back of the bedroom. Ava—orLily—slept soundlessly beside me as I slowly hauled myself up until my back could lean against the headboard.
Opening the little drawer on the bedside table, I pulled out my spare reading glasses and put them on before reaching for my phone.
