“Watch me come back to you,” he growled in my ear.
He slid almost all the way out of me, the tip of him flashing for a brief second before he pushed himself in with a brutal crash of our bodies as we came together. I cried out, his name coming effortlessly, but tainted with the edge of pain as I felt the spots on my skin ache from the way he’d just fucked me.
He came with another rock of his hips and released my face, allowing my head to drop against my outstretched arm as I tried to catch my breath and stop the silent sob of confusion that desperately tried to break free.
Chapter Four
DREW
My ass tensed as I slowly rode in and out of Ayda, staring at her tortured and confused face.
That sex had been phenomenal, but the high of it was taken away the second I heard the gentle hums of her sadness try to hide her tears.
A cold chill spread up my spine, contradicting the toe-tingling high I was still coming down from. I could feel the results of her orgasm coating my dick, as well as my own, but none of those dirty, delightful post-sex turn-ons were working for me as I held her in place and tried to catch my breath.
I swallowed with regret, the ball of pain like knives trailing down my throat.
I shouldn’t have gone too fucking far.
This was Ayda. The one thing, the one person, the one reason I had in life to keep going. Why couldn’t I stay on one straight path with her?
Because grief is the one thing that has always fucked you up more than anything, idiot,Harry and Pete cried to me in my mind.
Closing my eyes, I gritted my teeth and released her chin from my hold. As carefully as I could, I held onto her brightpink hips and slowly pulled out of her, feeling the way her body buckled in my grip.
“Stay there,” I told her with as much tenderness as I could muster, despite the hint of regret tainting the edges of my broken voice. Ayda barely moved. Whether that was because she didn’t want to or because she couldn’t, I didn’t know. I just knew I had to try to make things right before I got the fuck out of there.
Reaching around her, I turned on the faucet for the hot water, dipping a hand under it while my other hand held her hip in its grip. I didn’t know if it would help, but all I could see was her sadness and my hand and fingerprints on her skin.
She deserved a bit of tenderness.
When the water felt warm, I cupped some in my hand and gently trailed it down her spine. The rivulets fell down either side almost immediately, so I repeated the action, collecting more water and pouring it down the lower section of her back, trailing my fingers lighting over her skin with reassurance. I couldn’t bear to look at myself in the mirror again. She was my focus. When I’d soothed her spine, rubbed my palm over every inch of flesh, including her stained ass cheeks, I cupped my final handful of water and brought it down between her folds. Then I held it there, massaging the front of her as much as I could and rubbing my palm back and forth. Her ass rose once before she let out a sigh and her legs began to shake beneath her.
“I’m sorry,” was all I said.
“I’m not.” Ayda lifted her head from her arm, sucking in a deep breath as her hands dropped below her to keep her body steady, her gaze meeting mine in the mirror.
I frowned at her, my hand still between her legs.
“I’m not sorry,” she said again.
My Ayda. It was so typical of her.
I gave her one final, tender squeeze before I slid my hand up between the edges of her ass cheeks and helped her rise to stand in front of me.
“You’re a crazy kind of something, you know that?” I said sternly.
“Why? Because I know my own mind?”
“Because I could literally put a gun to your head and ask you to enjoy it for my benefit and you would. You were crying, Ayda.”
“That’s not true. I know that for a fact.” She looked down and shook her head. “And you don’t even know why I was emotional.”
Swiping at one of the tears, she tried to push away from the sink and swayed a little.
I grabbed her without thought, holding her up by her arms and bending at the knee until our eyes were level. “I’m taking you to bed,” I told her. She looked like she was broken, yet her cheeks were the kind of rosy pink I’d always adored on her right after we’d made love or fucked.
“Will you stay with me?”