Page 116 of Bad at Love

“You want my cum in your ass, Gabriel?”

“Yes!”

Storm hikes my thigh up and shifts to fuck me deeper. Deeper than I’ve ever felt him before. I feel him everywhere, and it’s exactly what I need.

“I’m so fucking close. You’re so tight and you feel so goddamn good.”

All I can do is whimper in response as I watch him use my body for his own pleasure, fucking me hard and fast, needing to come, needing my body to make him come… I love seeing him like this, in the throes of pleasure, chasing an orgasm and wanting to share it with me.

His hands tighten on my legs as he slams into me one more time, his dick throbbing inside me. I clench around him, greedily taking his cum.

“Fuck,” he says through a shuddering breath. His eyes open and he looks down at me, something passing in his eyes. I can’t quite tell what it is, but it’s not great. So I lean up again, taking him by the back of the neck and pulling him down for a kiss.

“You can’t leave me again,” I whisper against his lips before kissing him there, then along his jaw. “Please. Don’t ever leave me again.”

Chapter Forty-Eight

Storm

After lying together for a long time, covered in sweat, cum, saliva, and maybe tears because I can’t be sure Gabrielwasn’tcrying, we get up and go shower. Wordlessly, we wash each other, then get out and find clothes to get dressed.

“Are you hungry?” he asks.

“Yeah, I could eat.”

He nods, leaving his bedroom. I follow after him, not missing the solemn tones in the air.

I’d come here with the intention of talking to him, not fucking him. I can’t tell if he regrets it, and that’s what’s bothering me right now.

Gabriel has always done so well communicating with me. Even when it was hard, he did his best because I told him it wasnecessary. He respected me in that way. Now, it’s my turn to communicate and hope like hell he’ll listen to what I have to say.

I sit at the dining table as he moves around the kitchen. It’s exactly what we used to do every morning, yet it’s different this time. Which is all my fault. I left him, and I shouldn’t have done that.

There isn’t a word spoken as I watch him gather things he needs to make breakfast. It’s only when he dips the sliced bread into the bowl he was whisking that I get up and go over to the counter.

“You’re making French Toast?” I ask.

“Yes,” he says simply, putting the dipped bread beside the other in the pan.

“But it’s not Wednesday.”

“But it’s your favorite,” he responds simply.

“But it’s not Wednesday,” I repeat.

Gabriel sighs, going to the sink to wash his hands.

“Gabriel?” I say. He looks up at me. “You don’t have to do this for me.”

He looks like he wants to say something but won’t, or maybe he’s scared? So I go to him, cupping his face. “What? Tell me.”

He chews on the corner of his lip for a moment before he says, “It’s your favorite, and I want you to have a good breakfast.”

My heart soars at his words, and no matter how I were to say thank you, it wouldn’t be enough. So I lean in and kiss him. He sighs, hands coming up to grip my forearms. I press my forehead to his. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

I drop my hands and step back. “Do you need help?”

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