him fall apart. His hips moved with the strokes, and I was certain he was going to come.
But then he gripped my arm suddenly and shook his head. “No,” he groaned. “I need to be inside you, Char.”
I let go of his cock and let him slip my underwear off with his dirty hands. I smelled like raspberries and he smelled like rusted engine parts. He was greasy and sweaty, and I was clean and showered. I bit my lip, fighting a smile because I loved the difference so much. I loved accepting him in all his raw glory, and I loved the way he revered me, touching me like I was made of glass.
“Where am I going to fuck you?” he asked, eyes alive.
“Don’t make me wait,” I begged.
“So here, then?”
“Yes, here, on the ground, in this piece of crap car, I don’t care.”
He looked excited as his eyes flicked around the garage. A grin was beginning to form. “You think we’ll have an audience with this garage door open?”
It was late, and the people on this street were boring as fuck. Lights out usually happened around 10pm every single night. The street was dead and not a soul lurked. But sure, I could pretend we had an audience.
“I think once you take me, neither of us will care who’ll be watching,” I replied, smiling back at him.
He picked me up and carried me like I weighed nothing, kissing me along the way. I felt the cool wall of the garage on my back. His hands cupped my ass, and without a word, I pulled his overalls and briefs down. His cock sprang free, and I stroked it a few times. He moaned in my mouth, cutting the kiss short. Pressing his forehead against mine, we both peered down at his length prodding at my entrance. My eyelids grew heavy as he slowly entered me. My hands flew around him, one hand buried in his hair as he buried himself to the hilt.
“Jesus, dove,” he breathed, staring at me in awe. “So good. Always so good with you.”
I couldn’t respond. I was filled impossibly. He was so swollen, and I knew it was because of how passionate this was for him. He was watching my face closely, his eyes taking in my parted lips and quick breaths.
He always felt good. So good. But this was something else entirely. It felt like every move was bringing me closer to the edge. And when he began to thrust into me, the strokes long and slow, I could feel everything. I tried to kiss him, but I was lost in the pleasure. I tried to look him in the eyes, but I was already beginning to pulse, the onset of a strong orgasm coming on so suddenly. I gripped him tightly, muttering things as I stared at him.
“I’m so close. I’m so close.”
“Dove,” he breathed in reverence. “Fuck, you feel good.”
“Don’t stop. God, don’t stop, Conor. Just like that…” I panted in his mouth and he kissed me in response, and then he was biting my lower lip and nibbling along my jaw. I came hard, crying out as he continued to fuck me. The feeling was so intense. It washed over me in waves, and all the while he watched me carefully, kissing me softly this time.
“You’re so sweet, Charlotte,” he whispered dotingly. “I love you all of you, dove, every inch.”
Just as I came down from my high, Conor was stilling, gripping me tight, letting out a pained groan. His forehead fell to mine, and I watched through hazy eyes as he came. The pleasure washed over him, pleasure and grief and something good, too.
And then he smiled warmly at me. A boyish smile that made him look a decade younger. He looked like my Conor from before. I sucked breaths in to keep myself steady, but my throat went thick. I ran my fingers down his face, admiring that look.
The old Conor and the new Conor were in one body, and they were reconciling with one another, trying to co-exist, trying to find that balance.
Everything was going to be okay.
I saw it in his eyes. That realization that I was never going to leave him. All the walls dropped, and he let me in.
Carrying me upstairs, we showered together, and it was in bed that he held me close, whispering his soul to me.