Page 46 of Savage Reckoning

My body reshapes around him as though he’s always belonged inside me. I lift my legs and wrap them around his waist, hook my ankles together in the small of his back.

He takes it slow at first, each thrust filling me to the hilt. I clench my inner muscles around him, seeking more friction. I’m clinging to him, holding on as though I’m drowning, as though he’s the only solid life raft in a churning ocean of need and want.

Picking up on my signals, he increases the pace, pounding into me harder and faster.

Yes. More. I thrust back, meeting his rhythm with my own. Years of pent-up longing are unleashed, demanding to be sated. I can’t wait, won’t wait any longer.

Curls of pure pleasure unfurl deep within my core, the sensation building, blossoming as I reach for my prize. My pussy convulses around his solid girth. I squeeze hard, grunting with the effort of grasping for what I need. I ache for him, for this. I think I always have.

My orgasm is there, hovering just out of reach. Just a little more, just a bit harder, deeper. Yes, yes! My vision darkens. I see stars momentarily. My entire body convulses. Waves of sensation pulse from my core right to my fingertips, the ends of my toes. The ends of my hair.

Gabe lets out a hoarse cry and goes still. He’s deep within me, his liquid heat jetting into the latex. His breath is on my cheek, my neck. He kisses me, mutters something obscene.

For several moments it’s as though I’m floating, suspended in some trance-like state. I’ve never had an out-of-body experience ,but I think this may be it. My senses are shattered, my head spinning.

Slowly, gradually, I drift down from the high. My limbs are heavy, my muscles leaden. My pussy still quivers around him, drawing every last shiver of sensation from this glorious event.

Gabe’s weight was on me, pinning me down, but he shifts to rest on his elbows. He’s no longer anchoring me to the bed, and that feels like a loss, as though I’ve been set adrift. I try to hold on to him, but he’s already slipping away.

He withdraws and rolls onto his back to peel off the condom.

The connection broken, I sit up, my back to him. He reaches for me, his fingertips on my shoulder.

“You okay, babe?”

I answer with a quick nod, embarrassed suddenly and drowning in regret. How did I let this happen?

“We ought to—”

“Yeah. I know.” He slides from the bed to pad naked across the room.

I take in the lean, athletic grace of him, marred only by the slight limp. My legacy to him from that day when my world ended. “Does it hurt?” I blurt.

He pauses at the door to my bathroom, raises one quizzical eyebrow. “Does what hurt?”

“Your foot. You’re limping…”

His lip quirks. “No, honey, it doesn’t hurt.”

His assurance makes no difference. “I’m sorry. I should never have…”

He tosses the used condom in the trash, then returns to the bed. I try to avert my gaze, but he captures my jaw in his palm.

“Look at me, Megan.”

I raise my eyes to meet his.

“Let it go.”

“But, I—”

“It’s in the past. Over. Let it go, sweetheart. We both did things we regret back then, but it’s what we choose to do from here on that matters now.”

I shake my head. “We can’t just pretend none of it ever happened.”

“No one’s doing that. We’re just leaving it behind and moving on. Okay?”

I stare at him. Is it really so simple? Can we just decide to wipe the slate clean? Is that how this works? Is that how anything actually works?

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