Page 46 of Allegiant

I’ve never been taken like this, with such intensity, with such focus on me. On my pleasure.

And that’s what this is. Absolute pleasure.

My cock erupts, and I watch my release spill onto the floor, Samson’s hand loosening when I whine, his tongue slipping from me as I fight to breathe.

It’s only then that he stands and cleans me up with a warm, wet rag before picking me up and bringing me into bed.

I can barely move as he tucks the covers around me, my eyelids drooping in exhaustion.

He hovers over me. “Are you sure you want that for two days?”

I manage a soft sigh. “Yes. I am very certain.”

He looks at me long and hard, as if assessing my mental stability, but I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life.

I want that. Because not only did it feel good, not only was it the best sex I’ve ever had, but it helped me forget.

And that’s what I need.

I need to get through it in whatever way I can.

Samson doesn’t leave my side when I’m home. And aside from class and rehearsals, I make sure to be home the next two days.

I have an incentive.

He’s waiting for me, hands, fingers, tongue, and cock ready to make me come so hard I see stars.

But worse than that, he takes care of me. My dishes are done, my apartment cleaned, dinner cooked. Nugget is very well taken care of too.

He’s fed and walked and exhausted every time I arrive home.

I don’t know what to do with that, I really don’t.

It’s making me far more emotional than I should be about it. But maybe that’s because it’s just twelve hours before…

I push that thought away, slamming down on Samson’s cock as I ride him.

His hands are around my waist, his muscles bunching as he helps me rise and fall. We’ve fucked so many times in the last forty-eight hours, I really did forget what day it was.

It helps that he doesn’t let me think. The moment I arrive home from teaching a class or a practice, he has me naked, his tongue inside of me, his hand around my cock.

I’ve come more in the last two days than I thought possible. Samson is taking his task of distracting me very seriously.

Even so, my mind won’t let me forget. I saw the calendar as Samson carried me to the couch, my eyes finding it as he bent me forward and worked me open.

And now my mind keeps drifting back to the reality of my life.

But I refuse to give in. Not yet. I need another twelve hours of peace.

I need it.

I won’t survive without it.

I slam down on Samson harder, making him grunt, his hips thrusting up to meet my movements. His eyes are near feral, desperate and hungry for me, despite our many shared orgasms.

Whenever we’re together like this, the need for him doesn’t dissipate; it increases. I don’t think about the future. How it’ll feel to give this up. To give him up.

Because that’s what will happen. It always does for me.