Page 75 of The Trust We Broke
“So desperate for my cock that you won’t let tears get in your way, huh?” he asks.
I open my eyes and look up at him. The world boils down to this single moment. “I’m yours to use as you please.”
Everything between us stills. I swear, if I looked closely enough, I’d see the dust motes moving glacially as the cosmos freezes us in place.
The only movement is the stroke of Zach’s thumb along my temple.
Certainty is a strange word. A firm conviction that something is true. I dance around the word within the law. But here, in Zach’s bed, I’m certain that the universe conspired to make the two of us for each other.
It couldn’t be possible that someone else aligns with me so completely, like he does. Someone who wants me to be his as badly as I want him to be mine.
I had him once.
Was married to this man.
We had our forever, and I blew it.
I let a weak man, my father, control how I showed up in the world. I hunkered down, made myself small, and cut off everyone important to me. Zach, his family, the club, my mom. And for what? To end up alone.
Then, I remember my reasons. It meant Zach had to give up only four years of his life instead of sixteen.
He would have willingly served sixteen if it meant he got to keep you.
Only age has given me this perspective.
And when his lips meet mine so firmly that my head is pushed down into the pillow, I know it to be true. There can’t be this much still between us, otherwise.
He lifts off the bed and goes to his jeans to grab a condom from his wallet, then dips into the bathroom to retrieve an unopened bottle of lube. A man like him, I would have assumed there was a large supply of sex toys and lube and condoms right near the bed. But the move is endearing, like he wasn’t prepared for this, for us.
Like I wasn’t a sure thing.
With fierce concentration, he pulls the condom on his thick and hard cock, then takes a deep breath as he tips some lube onto his fingers and coats himself.
I wish I knew what all the deep breaths and sighs are for.
Nostalgia?
Courage?
Patience?
Need over anger?
When he climbs onto the bed, he looms over me. “Open to me.”
I remember what that meant. He wants me spread open wide. Vulnerable to him.
I raise my feet to his shoulders, then he moves over me, first sliding one, and then a second, lubricated finger inside me. I arch my back at the intense intrusion.
But his hungry gaze never leaves mine.
His shoulders and arms help my legs back until my knees are up by my armpits and my pussy is fully exposed to him.
He watches between us as he grips his cock and nudges me with his head, until he finds the entrance.
I have no control in the position. I can’t control the speed or depth.
“Zach,” I cry out when he thrusts into me.
