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As she curls her fingers around my dick, I have a vague recollection that I shouldn’t let her, shouldn’t allow this to happen, but it’s gone in the electricity zapping up my spine.
“Let go,” she says, her small hand tugging on my burning cock.
“Can’t,” I gasp, my hips jerking, fire racing up my spine.
Can’t let go of the past, of the pain, of the need to hold on to it and keep going.
She straddles one of my legs and presses her curves to my chest. I swear, those dark eyes stare right into my fucking soul.
“You deserve pleasure, and happiness, all the good things in life.”
“No, I fucking don’t.”
God, I can’t catch my damn breath. I have to break away, but she’s holding me in her hand, my heartbeat hammering at the base of my dick.
“The past is not your fault, Rafe. Let go.”
I grab the back of her head and crush my mouth to hers, to stop all those maddening things she’s saying—things I want to believe but simply can’t, won’t, things that could stop me from seeking revenge and deliverance, could drive me off the edge where I’ve been skating for so long, between depression and downright madness—and kiss her hard.
A dark pressure is rising inside me—in balls, in my chest, in my head. It’s a kind of pain I can’t process, a need that goes far beyond physical, a burning longing that feels like hope but is probably despair.
I want her to shut up, and I want her to go on. I want to leave, and I want to stay. I want her—need her—to convince me all she’s saying is true. That it’s okay to want and need, that it’s okay to be happy and feel good.
Risky. Dangerous. Why do I think even for one second she can save me? What’s with this girl that makes me hope for things I can’t afford to hope for? What’s…
Oh hell. She’s kissing me back, her hand tightening on my hard-on, stroking me. I groan, the sound lost in her mouth, as she does it again, and God, I hope she doesn’t stop. It’s so fucking good, and I’m almost there, my stomach muscles clenching, my balls drawing up, heavy and tight.
My other hand reaches down, curls around hers, and squeezes on the upward stroke. Once, twice.
My body spasms. That unbearable pressure snaps. My cock jerks and I cry out into the kiss, unable to stop myself. I writhe as another wave rips through me. My cum splashes on my chest, on her tits and belly, in hot jets.
Fuck, oh God…
My legs draw up, my back bows. I’m trying to curl around the pleasure. It’s too much, I can’t take it. It’s heat, fire. My hips rock as I push my cock into her grip, still frantic, still coming.
She whimpers, and I grimace, trying to open my eyes, to wrestle back my control. Then she shudders, and I feel her wetness on my thigh. Knowing she came from stroking me makes my spend cock twitch one last time.
Something’s cracking inside me. I feel like I’ve been shot through the chest. The pain’s about to send me to my fucking knees. This is unlike anything I’ve ever felt in my life. In panic, I grab her shoulders, open my eyes and look into her beautiful face.
She’s here. She’s right here.
I wrap my arms around her and hold on for dear life as I shatter.
***
“Rafe.” A fingertip is stroking my cheek. I’m curled around her, on her narrow bed. My nose is buried in her sweet-smelling hair, my arms are around her, keeping her flush against me.
I don’t know how much time has passed. A distinct lack of stickiness gluing us together clues me in to the fact she must have cleaned me up before curling up next to me. When did that happen?
I tighten my hold. Now sure I can breathe without her. I fear that, if I let go, I won’t be able to put myself back together.
And I have to let her go, or I’ll be putting her in danger. The moment I’m granted entry into the fight club, all bets are off. The safety of anyone connected to me could become compromised.
But she feels so fucking good, and her words… Her trust, her desire for me, her damn sweetness have shredded me, just like I feared. How can I go back to the anger and despair, how can I return to the pain after feeling such pleasure? Such ease in my skin, like I haven’t felt in ages.
Or maybe ever.
“Rafe,” she says again softly, her fingers trailing along my jaw. “You’ve been asleep for hours. Are you okay?”
