Page 39 of Meet Me In The Dark
“That’s your spot, and I’m going to fuck it until you come on my cock.”
His fingers slide between us, finding my clit to stroke filthy little circles.
“Let go. I’ve got you.”
That’s it.
Those words are my undoing, and I’m gone.
A scream catches in my throat as pleasure tears through me. It’s sharper and deeper this time, like my body knows what to do now.
I pulse around him, muscles clenching tight, dragging him deeper with every wave of release.
“Fuck,” he groans.
One more thrust.
Two.
And then he breaks with me.
A deep, guttural moan escapes him as he slams into me one final time, burying himself to the hilt.
He stays there with his arms braced around my head before his forehead presses to mine.
We stay like that for a long moment before I feel the gentlest kiss to my cheek, followed by one to my temple.
An unexpected tightness pulls at my throat.
My whole body feels raw—stretched, soaked, and trembling.
But not broken.
Not in pain.
Not this time.
His weight lifts from the bed. I hear him move, the faint rustle of clothing, and then… water running.
After a minute, a warm, damp cloth is pressed between my thighs, and I stiffen at the contact.
He doesn’t say anything, but he keeps his touch steady and respectful, wiping away the mess with careful movements.
It’s such a small thing, but it splits me open.
He finishes, then gently slides my underwear back up my legs.
My hands curl into the sheets, my throat thick because he… he’s dressing me.
When his hands find my waist and I sit up, I realize I never even took off my heels.
Jesus.
Holding my arms up, he slips the straps of my dress back over my shoulders before pulling the fabric down over my skin.
No one prepared me for this part.
I came here expecting to feel used.
