Текст книги "Indisputable"
Автор книги: A. M. Wilson
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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 19 страниц)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Tatum
Once again I find myself sitting on Jacoby’s ridiculously comfortable sectional, except this time I’m in my own spot and not curled up in his lap. My hands fidget restlessly with the bottle of water he gave me, making an obnoxiously loud crinkling sound fill the silence of the room. I don’t know what to say; I don’t know what to do. Being here has so many emotions fighting inside my skull for dominance. I’m excited he’s asked me over, dying to kiss him again, terrified what this conversation is going to be about. I don’t even want to begin thinking about the text messages he read on my phone.
But I have to start somewhere. The silence is devouring my nerves making them frayed and jumpy.
Looking up at him I stare, my lips parting as I watch him take a hefty pull from his beer. The muscles of his throat work in perfect time to his swallows, the skin gliding up and down over his corded throat and the slight ridge of his Adam’s apple. It makes my own mouth dry up like a puddle in the desert, and I want to climb on his lap and taste him in order to quench my thirst.
We’re close; not so close that we’re touching but within arm’s length of one another. So when Jacoby pauses with the bottle to his lips, catching me staring out of the corner of his eye and quirks an eyebrow at me, I know he can see the rapidly spreading flush covering the crests of my cheeks.
His beer bottle hits the coffee table with a loud thunk, and I jump. I need to get control of myself before I scare him off. He drapes a long, tanned arm across the back of the couch and begins twirling a tendril of my hair around his finger, watching his movements as if it’s the most intriguing show on Broadway.
“It’s so soft.”
“What?” I reply, lost in the gentle tugs against my scalp, which feel surprisingly soothing.
“Your hair. It’s silky soft.”
I’d have to be blind to miss the hooded, soft look of his eyes as he continues playing with my hair. My stomach pirouettes in the most enticing way.
“So,” I begin, stalling but knowing this conversation needs to happen before I bolt and catch the next plane to Florida. “You asked me to come, now I’m here. What do you want to talk about?”
Jacoby’s hand never falters as he shifts his eyes from his ministrations to look at my face. He studies me for a moment before he speaks.
“I think we have a lot to talk about, don’t you?”
“Um, okay. But you start.” I press my palms together between my thighs to try to control the trembling of my fingers. I don’t know why this conversation has me so on edge, but I’m freaking the hell out.
“You want to tell me what’s up with those text messages from your friend?”
No, no I do not. He wasn’t supposed to find out about that. And I can’t even get pissed at Em, because she thought she was talking to me.
“I’m guessing from this afternoon, you got the gist of it,” I mutter, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice. I guess I can’t really be mad at him, either. His snooping invaded my privacy, but he was looking out for me from Wyatt.
His eyes caress a heated trail across my face as he studies me.
“I got the gist of it alright. But, Sweetheart, what I want to know is why?”
My chin jerks down towards my throat. “Why?” I ask back, my brain not processing his question. It’s obvious, isn’t it?
Two strong, beautiful hands attached to an even more beautiful man gently grasp either side of my head, his thumbs softly stroking the hollows of my cheeks. The feel of him, the soft concern reflected in the espresso pools of his eyes has a dizzying effect. I want to face plant in his chest and not move until I have to come up for air.
“You aren’t getting it. You are safe with me. I won’t let anything, or anyone, hurt you. So having said that more than once, yeah, I’m asking you why? Why go through that danger, that trouble, when I’m here to protect you?”
My saliva feels like sludge, thick and sticky in my throat, and it takes several tries to swallow it down before my tongue is unglued enough to speak.
“Jacoby,” I whisper, overcome with a desperate need to have this man protect me. My heart is threatening to escape my chest with each rapid thump. But even feeling a desperation strong enough to bring me to my knees and beg for his protection, I know my body is stupid. It lies to me. Makes me feel things that I’m not allowed to feel. With each breath, I remember I’m all alone in this world, and I have nobody to rely on but myself.
I try to soften my rejection, and my voice comes out winded when I tell him more of the truth than I intended.
“I don’t need your protection. The only person I can rely on is me.”
“Tatum—ˮ
“No! Please listen to me.” Jacoby closes his mouth, but his eyes still watch me warily, as if he’s not sure I’m about to lay it on him or bolt from his house.
“You saved me. If you hadn’t shown up last Friday, I can only guess what would have happened and what that would do to me. You were here for me when I had nobody. I hear you, okay? I hear what you’re offering me. But what you have to realize is that I’ve only ever relied on myself. I take care of myself and life has shown me that no matter how hard I want to believe someone else will be there to carry the load, when the time comes, I’m always alone.
“I bought the gun as a precaution. Was it illegal and stupid the way I went about it? Yeah. I’ll admit that. But it’s not the first time I’ve had to put myself in danger in order to make myself safer. It’s a double edged sword. You’re here now, and I have no doubt you can keep me safe if I need it, but what happens next week? Next month? However long it takes for you to realize I’m not worth it and disappear? Where does that leave me?”
My chest is heaving with the force of my speech, not only the words but the emotions this talk sends coursing through me. The truth rings out in the air around us, nearly as palpable as the couch we’re sitting on.
I lift my hands to cover his still gently holding my head, and my eyes are locked to his. Then, forcing a fresh breath of air in my lungs, I whisper, “I need to protect myself from this shit with Wyatt, but the real reason for what I did is to protect myself from you.”
Holding his gaze suddenly feels too heavy so I drop my eyes to stare at his lips. Now why the hell did I do that? The memory of his mouth pressed to mine streaks across my brain like a shooting star in the night sky. His lips are both full, the bottom slightly more so than the top. He has a perfect bowed arch, which makes his mouth sit in a perpetual pout when his face is relaxed.
The hands cradling my head tense slightly, so I reluctantly lift my eyes back to his.
“You’re not getting it,” Jacoby says softly. My brow crinkles in confusion.
“I’m sorry?”
“I’ll have to show you.”
“Jacoby, I’m sorry but I don’t—ˮ
One second I’m sitting on the couch, and the next, his hands release my face only to grasp me beneath my armpits and haul my body over to him where he drags me into his lap. As soon as I’m close enough, he releases me briefly to wrap a strong arm around my back, crushing me to his chest while his other hand slides my thigh over his lap so I’m straddling him.
Once I’m secured where he wants me, and sure I’m no longer breathing out of pure shock, he moves his hand from my thigh to slide around the back of my neck, bringing my forehead to touch his. In order not to topple over, my own hands grasp onto the shirt covering his chest, the warmth of his body seeping into the sensitive skin of my palms.
“Do you think after the past few days, most importantly this afternoon, that I’m going to just let you go?” he whispers, his lips hardly a fingers width from mine. His breath is like a warm tropical breeze against my parted lips.
“I don’t think. I know,” I reply, wanting to squeeze my eyes shut from the knife plunging into my heart. It’s inevitable. We’ve never had a future, because we were doomed from the start. Isn’t that what he’s been telling me this entire time? This is wrong. We can’t work.
“I don’t think you do. Because the second you leapt into my arms and kissed me like I was the air you needed to breathe, you became mine.”
Duh-dum, duh-dum-dum.
That’s the sound of my heart stopping dead in my chest.
Jacoby doesn’t need me to respond. He puts pressure on my neck, bringing my lips close enough so he can capture them with his own. The kiss starts off soft and gentle, seeking and learning, tasting and being tasted.
There’s no rush, no urgency to the way his tongue tangles with mine. Just the gentle sway of our heads switching positions, left, right, left, back again as we explore and search each other’s mouths. Discovering the way he responds when I gently lick the side of his tongue and the roof of his mouth. The way a soft moan rises from my throat when he carefully nips my lower lip before caressing the spot with his tongue.
The first kisses we’d shared were full of dominance and power and proof. They were frantic and needy. We wielded our lips like weapons to drive a point. This time, it’s about the exploration and declaration of what is to come.
I can feel when the calm exterior of our kiss begins to unravel, revealing the true desperation lying within us. It’s like opening a present, the excitement and anticipation begins to heighten the closer we get to the source of our desire. His hand slides down from my neck, the other leaving my back with a sudden chill as both palms come to rest on the soft curve of my ass, squeezing and pulling the most intimate parts of our bodies closer together.
Jacoby is pulling moans from my throat like a magician pulls scarves from a hat. The kiss turns frantic and hot, teeth clashing, nips and licks. I throw my head back when he tears his mouth from mine, only to pepper the flushed skin of my throat with more of his lips, his tongue trailing along and burning a trail into my flesh.
When his mouth takes the trip back to mine, the restraint is completely gone. A groan rumbles from his chest, which I both hear and feel, and I sink my fingers into the soft, thick strands of his slightly too long hair. Without a word, Jacoby lifts me up with his hands on my ass, and begins to climb the stairs leading to his bedroom. My heart rate kicks up several notches with the thrill of his hands on me and the knowledge of where he’s taking me. I want to scream words like yes, please, and oh God, but I don’t want to sound too needy, so I swallow them down with my next breath.
We enter the darkness of his bedroom, the only light streaming in from the door which we came. He releases one hand from my ass to plant it on the bed, and using his momentum, he hoists both of us toward the middle with a soft thump. My body bounces a little, and Jacoby gives me a breathtaking grin before he follows me down to continue our kiss.
Every inch of me tingles like little electric pulses are being shocked into my skin. Reaching for the hem of his shirt, I pull and guide it over his head, dropping it somewhere beside me. The need to touch, to see his beautiful skin, is too much to bear. He doesn’t wait long before doing the same with my shirt, tossing it to join his, before leaning back to take me in.
I’m wearing a fuchsia colored bra with a trim of black lace around the edges. He hasn’t discovered it yet, but I’m wearing the matching thong. If he looks at me like this in just my bra, I’m going crazy with need to see how he reacts to the entire package.
God, his eyes. So soft and warm, looking over my face and torso with a deep reverence reserved for worshiping an altar. Jacoby places his warm, slightly calloused palm against the fragile skin of my throat, his eyes following the movement and heating at whatever he sees there. There’s no reflection of disgust in his eyes as he peruses the horribly bruised skin beneath his hand. If I could guess, I’d say he likes what he sees when his hand is on me, his honey colored skin contrasting erotically with my creamy, pale flesh.
Slowly, ever so slowly, his palm begins to move like a soothing balm down my sternum, between my breasts, sweeping and caressing to my naval, across to one side, then the other. From there, his palm ghosts up my ribcage, across my chest and he repeats the movement again on the other side.
We don’t need words to tell each other how good we feel, our hands speak for us in the language of need, and lust, and sex. I’m trembling from head to toe from his soft caress, and I lift my hands to his chest; the need to touch him nearly overwhelming me. His skin is deliciously smooth. The warmth heats my palms as I trace the chiseled valleys and hills of his pectorals, following the crisp sprinkling of hair along his sternum, and down, down to his abs and his little trail of happiness leading below the waistband of his jeans.
“Christ, you’re going to ruin me,” he breathes as I slip a finger into the edge of his jeans in a slow back-and-forth caress.
“Then let me,” I reply as I start to make work of the button. I get it undone, but before I can unzip the fly, Jacoby captures my hands in his and brings them over my head.
“Hey, I was enjoying that,” I whine, seriously a little miffed at being stopped but curious as to the delay. I’m more than ready to get this show on the road, if the steady pulse between my thighs is anything to go by.
Jacoby leans down, pressing a deep, wet kiss to my lips, and my thoughts fly out the window when his hands skate down the sides of my torso, where he begins to remove my jeans. He pulls the fabric down my hips before wrenching his mouth away from mine, and a soft whimper rides out my exhale.
“Shh. I know. Hang tight, Sweetheart. I want to see you first.”
Lifting my hips, I help Jacoby shimmy my pants down my legs where he stops to remove my socks before pulling them the rest of the way off. I can’t help staring at his position beside the bed, shirtless with his jeans halfway undone, looming over me with that sexy sweet look in his eyes. He could be the Angel of Death here to take me away to the burning lakes of hell, and I’d willingly accept my fate and scramble after him as fast as I possibly could.
His eyes feel like a soft touch as he makes his perusal of my near naked flesh. The bed dips as he climbs back on, straddling my hips. He buries his head in my neck just beneath my ear as his hands slowly stroke my skin upward from hip, ribs, shoulders. Closing my eyes, I sigh.
“Fucking beautiful,” he says softly into my ear before delivering short, sweet kisses to my neck.
I’m lost to sensation, the feel of his hands, of his skin on my skin. The world has evaporated away. We are nothing, and we are everything. This bed and the two of us are all that remain to exist in my world. Nothing has every felt more right or perfect than the feel of his body cocooning mine.
Which would explain why I didn’t realize what he was doing until it was much too late.
“I want you completely naked for me,” he whispers in my ear, his hands gliding from my shoulders to my wrists. I feel a sensation of coolness near my pulse point, but before I register what it is, Jacoby is running his lips and tongue up my arm, tracing my bicep, dipping into the sensitive skin of my elbow, slowly nipping and sucking his way up my forearm.
“I’m going to taste every in—,” his sentence ends in a clip of harshly inhaled breathe before his body goes completely tense. So tense I feel like rock has settled on my body.
“What the fuck is that?” he growls so quietly I almost don’t hear him. I’m trying to break through the lust induced fog, but Jacoby grabs my hands, sits back on his heels and pulls me up sitting before him. I’m met with the view of his soft brown hair when he dips his head to inspect my…
Oh, fuck. Oh, God. No, no, no. He’s not supposed to see my wrists. He’s never supposed to see that.
Panic slithers through my body like the vilest of drug. It’s a head to toe sensation. Tremors grab hold of my limbs making my body shake. My head suddenly feels stuffed with cotton; the room spins. I can feel the blood draining out of my face the same time my eyes well with tears.
“What is this?” he asks again.
“Jacoby, stop—“
“I asked, what is this?” He maneuvers my wrists so they’re facing me, but I shut my eyes tightly and shake my head side to side. I don’t need to see it. I know what it is, what it looks like, what it feels like. I don’t need to explain this to anybody, especially not him.
How could I have let this happen? How could I be so damn stupid?
“Let me go,” I say in a soft, defeated whisper.
“Tatum, answer me.”
“Let me go. Please, Jacoby, let go,” I beg.
“I need you to look at me, Sweetheart.”
God, his voice is so soft, so soothing, but it’s an illusion. He’ll never understand the desperate need I feel to release my emotions with the help of the blade. Why I’m not normal and can’t just vent or cry or scream to make myself feel better when feeling becomes too much to bear. Why it feels so good to have control over one thing in my life, even if that control is as twisted as mutilating my own flesh and spilling my own blood.
“Let me go.” I try to pull free, but he’s stronger than I am.
“Talk to me.”
“No, let me go!” My voice rises as the panic crests higher within my chest. It’s consuming me. I’m treading water, barely keeping my head above the surface, and the more he fights me, the more rapidly I’m beginning to drown from my own fear.
Jacoby leans forward, knocking me back to the bed and pinning my arms on either side of my head. He puts just enough pressure on my arms to hold me still but not enough to hurt. Not that his thoughtfulness matters. I can’t feel anything besides the devouring panic gnawing a hole through my insides.
“Sweetheart—“
“Let go! Let go! Please, LET ME GO!” I scream, thrashing my head, twisting my torso, bucking my hips. Anything to throw him off. I need to get out of here. The room is spinning. His voice is coming at me as if he’s standing at the other end of a tunnel, but I can’t make out the words from the blood roaring in my ears. My chest heaves as it searches for the oxygen my lungs desperately need, but there isn’t any. My body is malfunctioning. Drowning in the panic of my own pain and self-loathing. A balloon is swelling in my chest. So tight, so big and heavy, and there’s no more room.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t breathe.
“Tatum, breathe for me. You can do it, baby, just breathe.”
And with a hitched sob, the balloon bursts, and my world comes to a crashing halt.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Jacoby
There hasn’t be a more heart wrenching sight than watching Tatum struggle with her panic and fight for breath. True, having to deal with the knowledge of Harper’s death was the most tragic moment of my life to date, but it’s like that moment and now are on different ends of the spectrum. Harper’s was so final. I heard the news and it was over. There wasn’t anything I could do to change the outcome. I still struggle with the fact she’s gone and my own guilt for her death, but her loss is more a constant, lingering ache in my soul. But watching Tatum scared out of her fucking mind, so much so she can’t even breathe, feels like a knife plunging into my heart repeatedly. It’s fresh and it’s violent, and it’s breaking my damn heart.
Tatum doesn’t even seem aware of me anymore. Her eyes are clenched tight, and her face is at least three shades paler than her usual color. She keeps whipping her head back and forth, making a sound so similar to a slowly deflating balloon it’s making me stomach roil. I don’t know if I should call 9-1-1 or if she’ll snap out of it, so I do the only thing that feels natural and right.
I brace her body with my own, burying my face in the curve of her neck. The smell of her hair, of apricots and rain, fills my nose, and the effect is calming. I begin speaking gently in her ear, while inside I’m begging for the fear consuming her to give her back to me.
“Tatum, breathe for me. You can do it, baby, just breathe.”
She makes the most horrible, heartbreaking sob before completely dissolving into a puddle of tears. The relief is so complete, I feel my own eyes begin to water. Without a second thought, I tuck her close, one hand cradling her head against my shoulder while the other one begins soothingly stroking up and down her spine.
“Shh. Hush. It’s alright. I’ve got you.”
Over and over I repeat the words I think will help her shake off the lingering distress. My heart feels like it’s been shoved through a meat grinder, I can’t imagine what’s going through her head right this moment.
My head? I feel like a fucking idiot. This was too fast. I was too harsh, too direct. Should have slowed things down but instead, I reacted like a horny teenager who can’t keep it in his pants for all of five minutes. Which draws my attention to the fact she’s still mostly naked. Reaching over her trembling form, I grab the comforter tucked in the end of the bed and give it a hard tug, pulling it up and over the both of us.
She burrows into my neck as if she’s trying to crawl inside my body to live there. I wish she could. I wish she could crawl inside and build a house, and I could protect her from anything that tries to hurt her. Including herself.
Tatum’s a cutter. From the looks of it, a pretty frequent one. Why would she harm herself? Is she suicidal? Fuck…I dismiss that thought as quickly as it comes. No way can I lose another one. I can’t go through that again.
She’s not the attention seeking type. Her hair to her clothes to her personality all say unique. And not in an emo angsty way. Just…Tatum. She’s just Tatum and I know there’s more to her cutting than I can even try to guess.
“Jacoby?”
Tatum’s voice rouses me from a doze, and when I crack my eyes open, everything is dark. Her soft, naked body is tucked tightly to my side. Her head rests along the curve of my shoulder, and the sweet smell of her hair is tickling my nose. Even in the dark I don’t miss the way she cradles her wrists against her chest as if to hide or protect them even in sleep. Lifting my head in the direction of my nightstand, I see the clock reads 3:12 in obnoxiously bright red numbers.
“Yeah, Sweetheart?”
“Are you awake?” Her voice is hoarse and soft, and the sound makes the steady ache in my chest revive with a vengeance. She sounds like she screamed herself raw.
Tightening my arm around her shoulders to convey I’m listening, I roll slightly toward her so we’re lying side by side. Even with the nonverbal gesture, I answer her with my own throaty, “Yeah.”
“I, uh, I’m sorry about, uh you know, and I think it’s probably best if I leave.”
Her words come as a surprise. But they shouldn’t. Tatum has proven over and over she has an unparalleled ability to pull away and hide when the situation becomes too much. Fuck if I’ll let her get away with it this time. If I get my way she won’t be leaving my sight for the foreseeable future. For the first time in two years I’ve found someone I want. Someone who makes my heart beat just a little bit faster by just being near. Someone who I’m ready to risk my reputation on because she’s worth any possible consequence. For the first time in two years my heart feels a little less like a black hole in my chest.
To drive my point further, I roll my body until I’m entirely covering her warm soft curves from chest to toes. The darkness is too thick to see her face, but her breath breezes against my lips in a soft, surprised hitch.
“You’re not going anywhere. Not in the middle of the night, but especially not before we talk,” I growl against her lips before capturing her sweet taste in a lingering kiss. Her chest heaves beneath my own, brushing her breasts against my chest and bringing my full awareness to our state of nakedness. A possessiveness surges inside of me. I want to protect this girl, no matter the cost.
Her voices releases in a breathy whisper, “I just don’t think this is good for me.”
“What’s not good for you?”
“Letting you in,” she replies, a touch of sadness in her voice.
“What’s not good about someone listening to you?” I lean around her to kiss below her ear.
“Caring for you.” I kiss her nose.
“Keeping you safe.” I kiss her eyes.
“Making love to you.” I kiss her jaw.
“Making you smile.” I kiss her slightly upturned lips. “You let me in and you’ll get all that plus much, much more.”
Tatum trembles beneath me. “But how can this work?” she questions and I want to yell at the hopeful feeling pulsating in my chest. But I don’t. Even if I can get her to relax and give this a chance, I know we have a long road ahead of us. I’m trying to give her a reprieve, but the image of her slashed and scarred wrists has been burned into my brain. And it’s no small matter.
“We’ll take it slow,” I respond before trailing kisses down her jaw. I was talking about more than just the relationship. I’ve reached my limit of sitting still with her naked curves beneath me.
“You could get fired.”
“We’ll be discreet,” I whisper into the hollow of her throat before tracing her collarbone with my tongue. Tatum arches beneath me, smashing her breasts more firmly against my chest. The friction of her skin is intoxicating.
“But what about—“
“Shh. Close your mind. Don’t think right now. Just feel.” We have all the time in the world to talk about what happened tonight, what’s going to happen in the future. Right now, the only thing I care about is erasing her pain and making her feel good.
So that’s what we do.
Tatum’s breaths become gasps and moans in my ear as I move my mouth across her naked body. Licking, tasting, absorbing every part of her my mouth can reach. My movements are soft and unhurried. I want to convey how serious I am about her. About us. I want her to experience every touch without the rush to the finish line. But most of all, I want to show her she can use me. A distraction, a release, an escape, whatever she needs, she can use me instead of the self-harming methods she’s trained herself to use. My body is the shuttle to carry her away from the darkness that lives inside her. And I’ll do everything in my willpower to rocket her straight to the sun.
A brush, a caress, a whisper of skin and a tangle of limbs. We join together to create a new being. A living, pulsing creature of lust and love and feeling. I move, she reciprocates with perfection. As if she were made for me. As if she’s anticipated my every move and responds with the practiced counterpart of a longtime lover.
My body hovers above her, naked chest to naked breasts. I shudder as her warmth seeps into my flesh, through my bones, wrapping itself around my heart. Cocooning the organ. Soothing it. My mind screams at me to take and take and take, but I maintain a level of self-control. This isn’t about me, this is about Tatum. So I give. I give with my body, with gentleness and pleasure.
Skimming down soft curves and heat, my hand slides slowly between her parted thighs. I’m met with the softest skin, like a ripened peach, and heat envelopes my fingers as I slowly sink one finger deep inside. Tatum exhales a breathless moan as her back arches, and her hips slowly rock with my hand. Her sounds tear me to shreds. Everything I thought I knew about sex, about giving and taking pleasure is obliterated by the pleading and moans skating past her lips.
More
Please
Oh, God
Please
Licks of pleasure curl up my spine from the base to my neck, and like a hand pressing me down, my back bows to capture one hard, rosy nipple between my lips. I suck hard, twirling the bud with my tongue, and I can sense her impeding climax in the increase of her breaths and the way her body clenches my relentless finger. She’s teetering, but something is holding her back. Lowering myself to an elbow, my other hand begins toying with her breast while I tear my mouth away from the other with a soft pop. I need to get her there. To show her this is the best way.
“Don’t fight it. Get out of your head. Let yourself feel how good this is, how good we are together,” I whisper into the curve of her neck before biting and licking the delicate skin.
“I c-can’t. Oh, God,” she cries when I bite down above her collarbone. My intention was to derail her train of thought, but I can feel her body’s reaction to the slight pinch of pain.
I nip her again. This time below her ear where I whisper, “You can. Feel me, Tatum. Feel this.” I twirl my finger deep inside her, pressing against the inner wall of her sex. She gasps.
“You’re incredible. We’re incredible. I’ve never felt anything like this before. I need you to come for me, Tatum. Trust me. Let go.”
She’s fighting. Tensing and shaking, yet rocking her hips against me faster. She wants to come. Her body is greedy with my finger, and half a minute later, I feel her whole body go rock solid before jerking and shattering beneath me. A light sheen of sweat coats her skin, and she’s panting to catch her breath.
I don’t let her get her wits about her. Positing myself between her legs, I roll on the condom I had left out earlier and place the head of my erection at her slick entrance. My muscles tense and shake with the overwhelming need to slam inside her. To fill her up and beg her to never let me go.
“Tell me if it’s too much and I’ll stop. But don’t think, Tatum. Feel me. Feel us. Concentrate on how good I make you feel.”
Slowly, I begin to make little thrusts inside her. Giving her the chance to back away, but praying to God she doesn’t. My senses are on hyper alert, and my self-control is only so strong.
Tatum whimpers, her hands wrapping around to clench hard at my back. “More.”
“Hang tight, sweetheart. Focus on me.” Her eyes snap to mine, looking pure black in the darkness, and my control shatters. In one smooth thrust I surge all the way inside, filling her deeply with me.
