Page 119 of Take Her

All of her turned pink again. “I hope you’re not,” she breathed, so quietly I could barely hear her. Then she added more loudly, “Just fuck me, Rhaim?”

“No,” I growled and started up again.

I made her come two more times, using my fingers and kissing her clit, melting more of herself away each time. I wanted to get her to that place that only certain women could reach, where orgasms were incandescent things, like shots from a roman candle, one, after the next, after the next.

And then she was on the cusp of a third. “Oh my God,” she said, like she was asking Him if I would ever stop.

The answer: no.

“I can’t take any more,” she said, roiling her head back and forth.

“You can and you will.”

She pushed herself up on her elbows. “Goddammit, just fuck me,” she begged.

“Lie the fuck back down,” I commanded in a dark voice. I leaned over her, pinning one of her legs up by her knee with my shoulder so she was held open to me, and I could stare down at her, both of us breathing the other’s air, listening to the filthy wet sounds between us.

“Pl-le-eas-e,” she begged, the violence I was taking her with making her voice a warbling cry.

So then I shoved a fourth finger in.

One of her hands whipped up to the back of the couch behind her, to brace herself, and she canted her hips up. “Fuck—fuck—Rhaim!” she said, and I realized it was a warning, as she came hard, her entire body kicking against me, her pussy wrapping my hand, hot juices spurting out with each of her spasms, while she made pained noises, like I had ripped something away from her that she’d wanted to keep very much.

My hand was covered in her—and so was a good portion of her couch.

She put a hand to her mouth in horror as I extracted mine from her, and I knew if I was more gentle, used some lube, and kept working at it, I would eventually manage to fist her.

Fuck.

“Oh my God,” she gasped, in disbelief.

“I take it you’ve never squirted before?” I asked. She shook her head, and I was filled with a sick sense of pride. “Taste what I made you do,” I said, and gave her my fingers to suck.

Her hands wrapped my wrist and tentatively brought my fingers to her mouth, and then in between her stuffy attempts at breathing, she took them in, one by one, licking herself off of them until they were clean.

It didn’t matter that she somewhat looked like death-warmed-over—all I could think about was fucking her. My balls were epically blue, practically cerulean, and my precum had given me a wet spot of my own, growing against the inside of my jeans where my frustrated cock was drooling, far past where she’d managed to spatter me.

But when she was finished with her chore, she sank back as her adrenaline faded and her illness returned. “I can’t take any more.”

“I know. We’re through.”

I had half a mind to check her pulse. There was beard-burn on her inner thighs from my five-o’clock shadow, a vast wet spot beneath her ass, and she was still making helpless noises, like now that she’d started she couldn’t quite stop.

I took hold of the couch on either side of her hips and used it to heave myself up. “Get up, Lia,” I said, offering her a hand. “Go take a shower.”

52

LIA

“You’re the last thing I think about before I go to sleep, and the first thing I think about when I wake up. When I dream, I hope to dream of you—when I’m awake, you’re all I want to see. And that shit didn’t start last week, or last month, Sarah. I’ve felt like this since I was fifteen.” I pushed her away from me because I needed her to see my face before I spoke next. “I was afraid for so long that that made me a bad person. It was why I went to college so far away. And when I came back, it was for him, not for you, please believe me. But I love you all the same. I only slept with Jessica to try and forget you, to prove to myself that I could move on—but I can’t. I know that now. I never will. And now that Mason’s gone, I don’t know what ties us together anymore, but I want for us to build something real. Not just out of habit, or because we both loved him, but because after loving him, we know we can love each other.”

My heart felt like I’d just run a marathon, it was beating so fast.

“So can you ever forgive me? Please?”

Sarah sniffled, wiped her eyes, and it felt like my life was in her hands. Then I watched the edges of her lips curve up and—for the first time in a long time—a spark of fresh hope inside her eyes. “We should try and find out,” she said softly.

“Yeah?” I asked, still not ready to believe.

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