Page 5 of Come Apart
I can smell her desire.
I watch her changing expression, my ears tuned to the soft moans escaping her lips.
She wants me.
And I want her. All of her, all at once.
I want to slam myself into that wet heat, drive into her hard and fast, watch her perfect tits bounce as I come inside her.
She's in an agony of pleasure, groaning and shaking and digging those nails into my back again as she rubs against me.
I've tortured her enough.
I grip the base of my leaking cock and set it against her tight pussy.
Her entire body arches underneath me as I push inside in one go.
No more playing around.
* * *
Alyssa talksme into takeout at my place.
We sit on the floor, our plates on the low coffee table in the living room, a seemingly endless bottle of tequila between us.
She eats slowly, paying careful attention to every bite. I'm more obvious than I mean to be about watching her, and she looks at me with a weariness usually reserved for conversations about Ryan the asshole. "I'm not going to binge just because you aren't watching me."
"You're right. But I worry."
It's the reality of the situation.
How can I not worry about her recovery?
She shifts away from the table, frowning. "You're going to have to...get used to it."
She darts a glance at me.
"I know."
I do know.
It's just easier said than done.
She stabs another piece of her dinner and takes a bite.
She chews, slowly. Swallows, slowly.
I don't care how slow she does it, as long as she's eating.
She turns her eyes to the table and clears her throat. "Have you heard from Samantha?"
I see what she's doing.
Diverting my attention.
Samantha, my ex-fiancée, is one of my least favorite topics of conversation.
We met in elementary school.
