Page 84 of Fire for Effect

“Baby…” I put my hand snack on her cheeks. “Talk to me.”

The gentle rocking of her hips stilled, and my cock pulsed inside her, begging for more movement and friction, wanting her to give me more. But I wasn’t a prick. If I had to stop, I would… even if it killed me.

When a graceful, gorgeous tear went down her cheek, my heart broke. It fell from her chin, down, to my lips, and I tasted the salt and bitterness of them.

I wiped the next tears away with my thumb, holding her face in mine, staying silent, even as I ached to scream for her to give me whatever the fuck was weighing her down. What was keeping my beautiful Firefly from giving in to me?

“It’s not fair,” her hand left my chest, and I felt cold at the loss of contact. If we were fused together by the skin, it still wouldn’t be enough. “You’ll break me.”

“Baby…” I grabbed her hair, quite done with whatever thoughts swirled inside her mind. Whatever bullshit was making her say these things. “Look. At. Me.”

She shut her eyes harder.

“Stubborn as always,” I growled, sitting up, my cock moving inside her with the movement, eliciting a gasp that made me want to push her against the nearest tree and scrape her skin raw against the bark as I thrust in, deep, fast, and violent.

She would give me no more of her. Not until I figured out exactly what was wrong.

So I thought. I thought deep, and hard about what she needed in this moment.

“I’m not Heath,” I said, my nostrils flaring at the repressed anger of having to say his name while I was still inside her. The fact that this was the thing that kept her from releasing and taking her pleasure. Her pleasure was the only thing I needed at that moment. I could hold my breath. I could not drink, eat, or go blind… it would be fine, if I could just feel her pleasure.

I’d do anything for her.

“I love you,” I whispered. “I love you so much, it hurts.”

Her eyes blinked open, glassy and tired, but also bewildered.

“I’ve loved you a long time,” I confessed, as I took my hands from her face. I tore open my shirt, the buttons breaking away, flying off into the dirt and woods.

“You can’t,” she whispered.

Can’t what? Can’t fuck her? Can’t have her? Can’t love her?

I wasn’t sure.

I didn’t care.

I took her hand, and placed it on my bare chest, moving her hand until the fingers landed on my tattoo.

“You see this?” I asked, as she blinked away her tears. Her eyes refocusing. “What do you see?”

“A firefly,” she gasped.

“Do you know who it’s for?”

She shook her head.

“Yes, you do,” I said, trying to calm my brewing anger, only marginally tempered by the fact that I was still inside her. If all couples had arguments while they were connected this way, there’d be fewer divorces in America. “Who is it for?”

She shook her head, going to the place she liked best. Denial.

I thrust my hips up, she groaned as my pelvis rubbed her sensitive clit. But I wasn’t doing it for that… not yet at least.

I pulled my jeans down until my right thigh was fully exposed. I grabbed her hand, and placed it over the thickened skin of the scar from the gunshot wound. The one I had earned for her.

“Look,” I demanded. “Look at my scar, and tell me what you see.”

She shook her head, not wanting to look, but I wound my fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck, and moved her head until she had to look down at it, her body twisting to look at the view.

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