“Put your mouth on me,” he grinds out between his teeth, veins bulging in his neck. I kiss the tip, lapping at it with my tongue. “Now, Valentina,” he commands, fisting both hands in my hair. “In your mouth.”
His command makes me even wetter. If I was wearing underwear, it would be soaked.
I want him with a fierceness that scares me, because it’s raw and real and addictive. Hard, silky, slick, I take him in and suck. He groans. Closing his eyes, he thrusts, and we find a swift pace that has the hair under his navel tickling my nose with each pass. My mouth and fingers act in tandem to prolong his pleasure.
“Fuck, you own me,” he grinds out as I take him to the back of my throat and swallow. He throws his head back and groans, loud and long. It’s good, the silky slide of him on my tongue feels good, and I want more—more of him, more of the heady feelings that come along with taking him to a place where he can let go, where freedom and passion combine. The place where fucking is really love, and I can love him with my mouth and my body. A place where nothing and no one will drive us apart. I can tell he’s close by the tug to my hair and his quick thrusts, fast, faster. I’m filled with him, filled with love and fear of how soon it will all be lost, and I’ll have loved for nothing. Nothing more than the memories I take with me to my grave.
“Valentina, I’m going to come,” he growls desperately as he thrusts feverishly into my mouth.
I want him to. I want to taste him. I want him inside me, a permanent reminder of our time together. My teeth graze against his swelling cock. He tries to tug me away, but I clench my fingers into his ass, and then he pumps wildly into my mouth. Lost to the demands of his body, he takes me until he pushes down my throat and comes, one long jetted stream after the other, until he’s empty and panting.
“Baby,” he moans again, shuddering.
Reaching under my arms, he pulls me up. I’m desperate. Climbing his body, I wrap my legs around his waist and kiss him, deep, long, hungry lashes. He staggers back, fumbling towards the ground, and once there, he falls on top of me. I won’t let him loosen his hold, there’s a manic level of desperation in my grip. I can feel it, and I know he can too.
Matching my need, Carter pulls my hair, opening my neck to his mouth, teeth and tongue trailing down to my breasts. I arch into his hold, hovering in the place between pleasure and pain as he sucks my nipple so far into his mouth, I feel it in my clitoris. A strong, pulsing ache demands his attention. One and then the other, he tugs and bites the sensitive peaks, and I writhe beneath him, searching for his touch in the place I need him the most. As if reading my mind, he slides his hand, spreading me open to find my clit. Three fingers press flat, rubbing me into a bright burning light. His teeth and tongue tease my breasts as I loosen my legs to let him have me. My head rolls to the side as I grip the sand, searching for something to ground me.
“Oh, fuck,” I pant, rolling my hips to mimic his movement, and then they move down my slickness and inside.
“So ready,” he murmurs against my skin.
“Please,” I beg. “Please, I want to feel you.”
In a heartbeat, he pushes my thighs apart, grips the base of his renewed erection, and taps it on my clit, rubbing it through my folds. His earlier release did nothing to tame the turbulence in his eyes.
“Feel me, Valentina,” he commands and watches his cock sink in, slow, stretching, deep, and filling. I whimper at the exquisite pressure. My lids flutter closed. “No,” he growls. “Look at me. Watch me take you.”
I can’t deny him. Not Carter when his demand is clear, with his chest and abs flexing as he moves. Fingers dig into the pad of flesh above my ass to pull me onto his erection, driving in with controlled strokes, over and over, again and again. So slow. So full. So fucking good. “Do you feel how perfect we are, my love? How perfect I fit inside you?”
He glides in until he hits my core and we’re flush, proving his point, pressing against me to swivel his goddamn perfect hips. I whimper. “Please.” Please take me, pound out my fears, make me forget that this may be the last time I experience this.
I want to scream it, but instead, I whimper again. Carter’s eyes never leave mine. “Tell me, baby. I want to hear you say how perfect this is, how perfect we are.”
I moan and let my body speak for me with a rush of pleasure, the slick wetness easing every stroke, each thrust deeper than the last, as if by sheer force, he can make us one. “Carter.” I grab his wrists, using him as leverage to grind my clit, to rub against him when he’s buried so far inside me, I can’t feel the separation of his body and mine. “Oh, fuck,” I cry again as the tension stretches me thin.
“Now, Valentina. Give yourself to me.” Yes, I will and I do. Clenching around his cock, I arch from the sand as the pressure hits a peak, and I snap, bucking against him, coming so hard I use his body to take me past thinking and into blissful darkness. His groan and the pressure of his fingers digging into my flesh wrench me back to awareness.
He falls over me, arms taut, muscles rippling as sweat beads on his brow, and he enters me with long, deep strokes. Eyes caught on mine, he pumps his hips again and again, seeking his own release and tempting me with another.
“Valentina.” He breathes my name and sinks onto my chest, wrapping me in his heat. Cradling me, he presses his lips against my neck as his movements become quick and sharp.
“I’m giving myself to you,” I think he whispers, and I’d like to think it’s true, because his breath is ragged on my skin.
Then I’m consumed by the roar of his release beneath my ear and into my heart, beating at the same frantic pace as the pulse between my legs. He surges into me, once, twice, jerking with each offering. I lick his shoulder, relishing his sweet saltiness, before whispering what he needs to hear.
“Yes, Carter. We’re perfect. We’ve always been perfect.”
We lie entwined until our bodies cool. Tears burn against my lids. I struggle to hold them in as he kisses and sucks on my neck.
Reality intrudes one second at a time, and finally, he lifts to his elbows, eyes narrowing as he watches me. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
“What are you talking about?” I choke out.
“Something’s wrong. I see it in your eyes. Your body betrays you. You’ve trusted me with your heart, why can’t you trust me with your soul?” he asks.
“No.” I shake my head with too much vehemence. I can’t lose him tonight, not after what we just shared.
He winces. “There’s nothing you could say that would change how I feel about you, what we all feel about you.”
Now it’s my turn to wince, because I know he’s wrong. When I started this lie, I was relying on memories of the passion and love that we’d shared to guide me in my decision. My memories were merely a shadow of what our real love is like, the difference between black and white and perfect Technicolor.
Despair. Desire. I feel them both as I look at him lying there beside me, sprawled out like an insolent king.
His brow settles into three lines, clearly outlined under the glittering stars and a moon so large that I feel like I could reach out and touch it if I tried.
“I can’t tell you yet.” Tears burst from my eyes. The first heave hurts, the second is unbearable as the reality of my situation barrels forward to slaughter a future I’ve tried so hard to pretend could come true.