Page 57 of Edge of Ruin
His kiss cut off my protests. It was angry and fierce, but so was mine. I clawed at him, clutched him, cursed at him. Wound my fingers into his hair and kissed him as he spread my legs and nudged his cock heavily inside me.
He thrust hard. It was an intense sensation, excited though I was. I cried out, and he stopped instantly, lifting his panting mouth from mine. Staring into my eyes. Waiting to understand whether or not he should stop.
I jerked him closer with a furious yank. I was in it now, and there was nothing to do but ride it out to the end.
He let loose. Every plunging stroke of his cock was a licking lash of guilty delight. His hands on my breasts, his hot mouth on me, his big body, pumping hard ... yes.
I came intensely, shuddering and wailing. He was still driving hard toward his own pleasure when I realized that he hadn’t used any latex, but I couldn’t stop or even speak. Just whimper, at each wet, desperate slap of contact.
His breath hissed with each jolt, gaining momentum, and he flung back his head and came. Hot jets spurted inside me.
He collapsed over me, panting.
I stared up at the dark ceiling, pushed far beyond any recognizable emotion. My fingers were still wound into his hair, as if I could hold on to him somehow. Keep him close to me. But already I could feel him slipping away. Receding into the distance.
And there wasn’t a goddamn thing I could do about it.
The sweat on our bodies was cool before either of us dared to move. He lifted his head, cleared his throat. “I, ah ... I didn’t ...”
“Yes,” I said. “I noticed that.”
He pulled himself out, stuffed himself back into his jeans, keeping his back turned to me. “Is it a dangerous time?”
“Hard to say. I’m pretty irregular.” I got up, smoothed my skirt down. His sperm trickled hotly down my leg. “I wish I knew what you were trying to prove with this demonstration. That I’m a weak slut who can’t say no? That you’re stronger than me? What’s the message here, Jack?”
“No message. I just couldn’t stop myself. It’s that simple.”
I laughed, bitterly, and pressed my hand to my leaky nose, longing for a tissue. “Simple, my ass. You’re anything but simple.”
He sighed. “Jesus, Viv. This is hell. What do you want from me?”
“I want you to believe me when I say I love you,” I told him. “That’s all I want.”
He was silent for a moment. “Fine,” he said. “Marry me, then.”
I stared at him, dumbfounded. “What did you say?”
“You heard me.”
I examined his inscrutable silhouette, then got up and turned on the lamp on the table by the couch. His face was hard, tense. As if he were bracing himself for a blow.
I exhaled, slowly. “Jack,” I said.
“We’re already working on making a baby, right? So let’s go all the way. Tomorrow, we go to town. Get our documents in order.”
“You bastard,” I whispered.
“Yes or no, Vivi. It’s a simple question.”
I chose my words carefully. “It’s not a simple question,” I said. “Because it’s not a real marriage proposal. It’s a rocket grenade attack. You’re setting me up. And jerking me around.”
He grunted. “Huh. That sounds suspiciously like a no.”
“That sounds like an ‘it depends,’” I said. “Besides, if I said yes now, you wouldn’t believe me anyway. Not in the state you’re in.” I put my hand against his chest.
He stepped back. My hand dropped. “But since you haven’t said yes, we’ll never know, will we?”
Dread twisted in my belly. “Oh, God, Jack. I need for you to believe me,” I said miserably. “I can’t keep trying to convince you. You’re exhausting me.”
