Page 94 of Fractured Faceoff

"You're so tight," I murmured, feeling her body clench around me. "So wet. You want this as much as I do, don't you?"

Her only response was a moan, her body arching to meet mine. I could feel her heart pounding, her body trembling. I was close, so close, but I needed more. I needed her to let go, to give in to this, to me.

"Let go," I growled, my voice low and commanding. "Let me see you come undone."

Her nails raked down my back, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure straight to my core. I could feel her orgasm building, her body tensing, her breath hitching. I picked up the pace, driving into her with a force that had her crying out.

"That's it," I encouraged, my voice rough. "Let me hear you. Let me feel you."

"Jared," she moaned, her voice a husky whisper that sent a shiver down my spine. I could feel every inch of her, every curve and contour, as if her body was made for mine. Her heat enveloped me, her scent filled my lungs, and I was lost in her, drowning in the sensation of us.

Her fingers dug into my back, her legs wrapped around my waist, pulling me deeper. I could feel her heart pounding against my chest, or maybe it was mine, beating in sync with hers. Her breath was hot on my neck, her moans a symphony that urged me on.

"Lie to me," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Please. Tell me lies."

My eyes snapped open, meeting hers. There was a hint of desperation in her gaze, but I understood her then, understood what she needed.

"I hate the way you taste," I murmured, my voice low and rough.

Her eyes widened, surprise and realization dawning in them. She knew I was lying, knew that I was giving her what she asked for.

I leaned down, my lips brushing against her ear. "I hate the feeling of you sleeping next to me," I continued, feeling my pleasure start to peak. Her nails raked down my back, the pain mixing with pleasure, pushing me closer to the edge. "I hate you're fucking voice. I hate that you're fucking right abouteverything. I hate the way I don't look at you, even when you don't notice."

I continued to thrust in her; the words spilling out of me easier than I expected.

"Fuck, Isla," I growled, my voice a low rumble. I locked eyes with her, wanting her to see the truth in my lies, the desire in my gaze. "I don't love you."

She whimpered.

"You're not the person I want to be with," I continued, my voice strained. "It was always a facade. Being with you meantnothing."

Her body convulsed around me, her orgasm hitting her hard. She screamed my name, her nails digging into my flesh, leaving marks I knew I'd wear with pride. The sight of her, lost in pleasure, pushed me over the edge. I came hard, my body shaking with the force of it.

I collapsed on top of her, our bodies slick with sweat, our breaths ragged. Her nails traced patterns on my back, the sensation grounding me, keeping me present in this moment, with her.

I slowly helped Isla down from my waist, her legs unwrapping from around me with a languid grace. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, a soft smile playing on her lips. She looked sated, content, and I felt a surge of pride knowing I had put that look on her face. Breakfast could wait; right now, all I wanted was to fall asleep with her again, to hold her close and breathe in her scent.

I swept her up into my arms, her body warm and pliant against mine. She nestled her head against my chest, her breath tickling my skin. I carried her upstairs, each step echoing softly in the quiet house. Our house. The thought sent a warmth spreading through me that had nothing to do with the exertion of carrying her.

The bedroom was bathed in the soft glow of the morning sun, casting long shadows across the rumpled sheets. I laid Isla down gently, her hair fanning out around her like a halo. She was already dozing, her breaths deep and even. I took a moment to just look at her, to memorize the curve of her cheek, the flutter of her lashes against her skin.

I crawled into bed beside her; the mattress dipping slightly under my weight. She stirred, a soft murmur escaping her lips, but she didn't wake. I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her close until her back was pressed against my chest. She fit perfectly, her body molding to mine like we were two pieces of a puzzle.

I buried my face in her hair, inhaling deeply. She smelled like us, like sex and sweat and something uniquely her. It was a scent I could get drunk on, a scent that made me feel like I was home. I felt her breaths sync with mine, her body relaxing into my embrace.

And then, with the sun warming our skin and the sound of her breaths lulling me to sleep, I let myself drift off. It was a sleep unlike any other, deep and content, filled with dreams of her. Of us. Together.

I blinked awake;the sunlight pouring through the window. The warmth of the sheets wrapped around me felt foreign now, empty without Isla beside me. I clenched my teeth, irritation gnawing at my insides. Somehow, I knew she wasn’t downstairs. She was gone.

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and rubbed a hand over my face. The remnants of last night and this morning hung in the air, thick and heady, but theyfaded with each passing second. I dressed quickly, pulling on a worn T-shirt and jeans, the fabric clinging to me like a reminder of what I’d lost.

As I made my way to the kitchen, frustration bubbled up. Why did she leave? The question echoed in my mind as if it could somehow rewrite the past few hours. I pushed through the door, ready for silence.

But then I stopped.

The aroma of fresh coffee filled the air. My heart sank and swelled all at once. There she was again—her presence lingering like an afterthought, filling up spaces she should’ve occupied.

I stepped further into the kitchen and saw her favorite mug sitting on the counter, steam curling from it like tendrils of regret. My chest squeezed painfully at the sight, and part of me flared with anger.

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