She looked up at him with something like surrender, and he knew he’d never be the same. She was his. She’d always been his. He could feel every inch of her—from the soft bounce of her breasts to the roll of her hips to her thighs spread wide for him. Their bodies fit together like puzzle pieces, the same way she helped him fit into the world. Her cunt, so fucking hot and silky, tightened around him, fluttering as her breaths stuttered.
“That’s right,” he murmured, the words dripping satisfaction. He slid a hand between them and felt her soft folds spread around his shaft. Her clit was a lush little bead, and when he stroked it, she spasmed beneath him. He brought his lips to her ear. “Feels so fucking good when you’re like this. If you come, I’ll lose it.”
She laughed, breathless and broken. “Don’t stop. Faster.”
Whatever she wanted. That’s what he would give her. Not because he had to, not because it was the only way to keep her around, not because it made him useful or worthwhile or better—but because seeing her pleasure, in any context, took him to another fucking planet. He thrust hard until she melted under him. He twisted his hips, and she gasped like he’d given her the sun. He stroked her in slow, gentle circles that didn’t match the punishing pace of his thrusts, and her moans became whimpers, then sobs.
When she finally broke, her cunt a hot, honeyed fist around his cock, he did exactly what he’d said he would do. He lost it. Fucked her through those dizzying spasms, choked out her name in a voice like broken glass, and lost it. Every muscle in his body stiffened as electric sensation coalesced at the base of his spine—and then pleasure ripped him apart. He forgot himself for a second. He was no-one, floating through nowhere, having the greatest orgasm in history.
When he came back, his body was limp, his arms around Rae as they lay together on their sides. He held her tight and knew this was perfection. Didn’t speak in case reality intruded. They’d spun their own world for a moment, a world where she didn’t have to worry or fight old fears or push him away, and he was happy here—so happy he could barely drag himself off to deal with the condom. Returning to her a few moments later felt like coming home.
He must’ve dozed, in the end, because he woke up in the pitch black of true night. Rae was kissing his face, quick and sweet and frantic. “Mine,” she whispered. “Mine.” The word shimmered with electric honesty. He slid his hands into her hair and held her still and fit his mouth to hers. He could taste her tears.
Chapter 14
Zach woke up the next morning half-afraid it had all been a dream. The sunlight was warm and brilliant through the curtains, his body was deliciously exhausted, and Rae’s naked arse was pressed against his dick, teasing it back to life anyway. He lay there for a while and wondered how today would go—if she’d regret the things she’d said and pull away from him. And how he’d stand it.
Then she woke up, purred, and spread her lovely legs.
In the end, he fucked her slow and sweet from behind. Worshipped her body, kissed the line of her throat, and lived and died for the way she said his name. After, he held his breath and waited for her to speak. To bring this thing between them fully into the light.
But it never happened. They didn’t talk about the night before, about the touches or the tears. Instead, she kissed him tenderly on the mouth, then gave him a one-sided smile that made his heart beat faster. And if something in his mind whispered that this wasn’t enough, that they needed to communicate—to finally be straight with one another—well… that whisper was easy to ignore when he had Rae to hold.
And when he had a job to do. He was still her fake boyfriend, and he remembered as they dressed for breakfast that tonight was the awards ceremony. Rae was nervous as fuck; she hid it well, but he could tell. Worry made her edgy and thoughtful and quiet. She needed his support—yet another reason to save his difficult, what-about-us questions until they got home.
She looked worn and vulnerable today in a cartoon cactus T-shirt, slight shadows cradling her eyes. But tiredness didn’t stop her from typing