Page 18 of Protected By Razor

“Yes.” Almost a sob. “Yes.”

I bottom out and she makes a sound I’ve never heard before — high and broken and stunned — and her whole body shudders under mine and I have to drop my head into the crook of her neck and breathe for a second before I trust myself to move.

She’s so warm. I press my mouth to her throat. I feel her pulse hammering against my lip.

“Razor, I really want you right now.”

The first stroke is slow. So slow. I want her to feel every inch of it — feel me drag out, feel me push back in, feel the way I’m fighting myself to keep this gentle when every instinct in me wants to take her apart. She gasps. Her nails scrape down my back and I feel each one like a separate point of fire.

“Yes,” she breathes. “Yes.”

I do it again. And again. Building it, watching her, learning what she likes — the small twist of my hips that makes her arch, the angle that makes her grab fistfuls of the sheet, the long deep stroke that makes her gasp my name like she’s never said it before.

Her bedroom is small and quiet and the only sounds are her breathing and mine and the soft wet sounds of what we’re doing, and the slap of skin every time I bottom out, and her — God, her — making little noises against my mouth that she clearly doesn’t know she’s making.

“That’s it,” I murmur. “That’s it, baby.”

“It’s so??—”

“I know.”

“I can’t??—”

“You can. Stay with me.”

I shift my weight to one elbow and slide my other hand down between us, finding her where she’s slick and swollen, and the second I touch her she cries out and bucks against me. I work her with my thumb in time with my hips. Her whole body’s trembling now. She’s right there.

“Razor?—”

“Look at me. I want you to look at me when you come.”

Her eyes meet mine.

She comes apart for me with her eyes on my face — gasping, shaking, her body clenching around me in waves, and I watch every second of it and I will never in my life see anything more beautiful than this. Her mouth is open, and she gasps my name.

“Christ,” I groan.

I’m not going to last. Not with her clenching around me like that, not with her looking at me like that, not with her hands on my back and her hips lifting to meet mine and the small gasping sounds she’s making as her body keeps going.

I move faster. Harder. Her hands move to my shoulders and grip, and she lifts her hips into mine and gasps something that might be yes and might be my name, and I feel myself break.

I drop my head down beside hers. I feel her mouth at my ear. I feel her hand at the back of my neck, holding me to her.

I come hard, with her name in my throat and her body still trembling around mine.

After, I don’t move.

I stay over her for a long minute with my face buried somewhere in her hair and her hands flat on my back, both of us breathing hard, and then I roll us so she’s tucked against my chest and I wrap an arm around her and I hold on.

She’s quiet. Her hand is on my chest, over my heart.

I stare at the ceiling of her bedroom for a long time.

Ten years. Ten years of being sure I was doing the right thing by staying away from her. Ten years of telling myself she was better off without me.

I was wrong about all of it.

I’m not going to be wrong about it any more.