He made a strangled noise. “If I got drunk again, I’d probably have you spread-eagled on the floor and so far deep inside you we’d both die of pleasure.”
I shivered. I grew wet. “Do it then.”
He choked. “Do what?”
“Fuck me.”
He groaned long and low. “O...what are you doing?”
“I’m avoiding facing what has to happen.”
“What? What has to happen?” He stepped toward me almost unwillingly. His hands opening and closing, his body tight and predatory.
“We need to walk away. There is no future for us. There can’t be. Not after everything that’s happened.” I drank back the rest of my wine, welcoming the buzz, the lightheaded recklessness. “Words can only do so much. Conversation can grant sentences and paragraphs and finish this mess with a full stop, but only sex can grant us an ending.”
“You want us to end?”
My heart wanted to shake its head.
My soul screamed for him to call me out on my lies.
I nodded instead. “Yes.”
He crowded me against the countertop again, bringing fire and regret and the deliciousness of the forbidden. His eyes blazed with lust and love. “I came here trying to prevent an end.”
This was wrong.
This was dangerous.
But I was through being good and safe.
I wanted this.
I wanted a clean, corruptible goodbye.
“It’s inevitable.”
“It’s salvageable.” His hand cupped my chin, jerking my head to the side so his mouth could latch onto my throat. His teeth unsheathed and sank into my skin, sharp and unforgiving; his tongue lapped at me a second later, soft and pleading. “It has to be.”
I moaned and puddled into his chest, wanting my brain to turn off and my body to take full control. I wanted to be used, abused, and then I wanted him gone.
I wanted him gone for my sake and for his.
We were toxic to one another.
He’d always screw up and I’d always forgive him.
He’s going to jail.
Even if I did agree to try, our futures had already been decided.
“Shut up and kiss me.” I arched for his mouth, desperate to stop talking.
“Don’t command me, O.” He bit me again, yanking at my cotton pyjama top, popping the buttons holding the cute pink umbrella fabric together. My bare breasts ached to be bitten, squeezed, claimed. “Don’t force me to do something I don’t want to do.” His voice rippled with history. Of another time when sex had been used against him.
A flush of guilt made me lucid, but then vindictiveness made me nasty.
Perhaps, by using Gil’s demons against him, I could sever this infernal link between us. Maybe by pushing him too far, I could push him into admitting that we just couldn’t work.
I could break us both so we could finally walk away without constantly looking back.
“God, you taste amazing.” His tongue lashed against my throat, his arms banded tight around me.
For someone saying no, his body screamed yes.
I wriggled against him, rocking my hips into his. “You know as well as I do that we’re powerless against each other.”
He groaned, his hips answering mine with a slow, heavy grind that sent heat and wetness between my legs. “I’ll always be powerless when it comes to you.”
“That’s why we’re not good for one another.”
“You’re the best thing to ever happen to me.” His fingers latched onto my hipbones, jerking me harder against his erection. He winced a little from his still tender wound. “I’ve never wanted anyone else but you. Never loved anyone else—”
“Stop.” I cupped his cheeks, yanking his lips down to mine.
He growled low in his throat as I kissed him, stealing from him, all while offering him to take. This was war. This was a white flag of surrender even while I desperately tried to survive.
His tongue plunged deep; his body crowded mine. We rocked and clawed, slipping down the slippery slope of foggy desire.
Our lips crashed, teeth clacked, tongues danced a fiery battle.
Our bodies understood the goal, rocking and thrusting, seeking space to join.
I was too far gone to care.
Too drunk on lust to worry about consequences.
Too stressed and spiteful to stop trying to hurt both of us, all because I wasn’t strong enough to admit that there would never be anyone else like him, never be another boy I loved so deeply.
“Fuck me, Gil.” I kissed and licked him. “I need you.”
“Don’t do this, O.” He growled again, ripping his lips away and ducking to suck my nipple into his mouth. “I want to talk. This isn’t what I came here for.”
His voice said no. His touch already agreed.
My head fell back as he branded me with his teeth.
I clutched his head to my chest, crying out as he bit harder; he suckled, making wetness gush between my legs. “Finish it, Gil. We need to finish this.”
“I want to save this.” His hand dove between my legs, finding me drenched. “Goddammit, O. We can figure out a way to fix this.”
Yes, my heart screamed.
No, my mind cautioned.
I embraced sex to protect myself.
“It’s over, Gil. It has to be.”
“Don’t fucking say that. It’s not.” Even as he begged, he shoved my night shorts down and plunged two fingers inside me. “Don’t ask me to give you up.”
“God.” I buckled in his arms, my hips thrusting forward unashamedly.
“Fuck, you’re driving me insane.” His fingers pulsed inside me; his gaze shot black with need. “You’re pushing me too far.” His eyes closed tight, his brow furrowed and lips thin. “I’m losing control. I won’t be responsible for—”
“For fucking me?” I licked my lips, moaning as his fingers dove deeper. “I want you to. I need you to.”
“And I need to earn your forgiveness. Not fuck you like you mean nothing.”
That sounded delicious to my current delirious state.
I didn’t want sonnets or softness.
I wanted fast and brutal.
I need this over.
“Do it. Please.” I clawed at his shoulders, not caring I was naked and he was fully dressed. My eyes hazed as my hands dropped down his front and unbuckled his jeans. “Gil...”
“O.” He snarled as I shoved the denim down along with his boxer-briefs. “Fuck, stop.”
His cock leapt out and I pumped him.
His back bowed. His legs buckled. He drove his fingers deep inside me. “Goddammit.” His forehead crushed on mine, both of us stroking the other, punishing the other. “I’ll never be free of you.” He thrust into my hand as his fingers rocked against my G-spot.
“Me either.” I trembled, moaning, “And that’s the problem.”
“That’s our curse.”
I arched up to kiss him. “I don’t have the strength anymore.”
His lips slammed down to kiss me. “I never had the strength.”
Our tongues knotted.
Our bodies battled.
And he lost.
I lost.
We destroyed each other with a violent kind of lust that incinerated right and wrong, past and present.