Page 81 of Setting Limits

His movements are slow and steady, giving us a chance to just feel our bodies connecting in a way only ours can. Nothing has ever been like this. He's said the same. It’s something special just for us. There are no pretenses, and there’s nothing we hold back. I run my palms up his chest, over his shoulders, down his back. I need to feel every muscle moving, tensing, grooving with me, with us.

My head tips back at the sheer incredible feeling of Wes moving inside me, but he takes my chin with his thumb and firmly presses down.

“Don’t you look away from me. Don’t you take your eyes off me. You will know who makes you feel like this, youwillscream my name when you come.”

Fuck, he’s so domineering. But I go with every second of this, every single amazing second, which he seems to be dragging out. I think we both know that this is the last time.

I keep my eyes on him, trying my hardest as they flutter, and my hands tighten against his shoulders, my nails making crescent moons in his skin.

“More, Chelsea. Give me more. Scratch me. If you’re going to send me away, send me away with marks to remember you by.”

With his words, he starts thrusting harder. “Fuck, Wes.”

He’s taking his anger and frustration out on me, and I know, I cantellthat he wants me to do the same.

“Take it out on me, sweetness. Hit me, scratch me, claw me. Get it out, let it out. Take out your frustrations.”

He wants me to take them out? Fine. One more hard thrust, and I’m screaming his name, tightening around him, and digging my nails in, hard, as I rip them down his back.

And then I hook my leg around his hips and try to flip us. Wes doesn’t ever have to let me do anything. He’s far stronger. But he knows I need this, it’s what he suggested, so he flips to his back, taking me with him.

Once settled, I lower myself all the way onto him, my head tipping back briefly before he pulls it forward again, shaking his head.No no.

I plant my hands firmly on his solid chest, carving crescent moons into his perfect skin. His hands wrap around my hips, and his fingertips dig in as I cause him a pinch of pain.

“Do it, Chels. Let me feel your anger.”

And I do. I start moving my hips, forward and back, up and down. But when I go down, I slam myself down. It hurts my ass as I pound onto his hipbones, and by the slight wince he exhibits, it hurts him a touch, too. I go harder, faster, stronger, until his head is tipping back in ecstasy, mouth agape.

The closer I get, the more my hands tighten. His chest is red where my hands rest since every time I slammed down on him, I did the same with my hands, sometimes as fists. There are small nail marks all over his chest, some slightly raised.

“Fuck, Wes. I’m going to come.”

“Oh, God. Me too, Chels.”

I keep going with my rhythm; up, down, forward, back. When I tighten around him, my claws drag down his chest, leaving angry, red lines in their wake.

He tips his hips up a few more rough times before groaning and letting out a strained “Chelsea.”

I’m going to miss the husky rawness of his voice when he comes. It’s when he’s at his most vulnerable in bed with me. He lets down the few walls he has, drops the funniness, the jokes. And he lets his kinkiness show. He told me once that he never let it out with anybody else before.

Our gazes lock on each other, and I burst into tears. His hand immediately clasps the back of my head, and he pulls me into his chest, rubbing my back and shushing against my hair.

He’s leaving. He’s leaving. He’s leaving.

I try to push myself away from him, but he keeps his grip tight around me.

He doesn’t make a move except to take my chin in his fingers and tip my face up. “I told you when we started, that I wouldn’t take you being a brat. So, you can’t do this. You can’t be mad that I’m choosing a career and degree in another state because it’s good forus. Because dammit, Chelsea, there needs to be anus. I can’t stand it if there isn’t. I can’t… I can’t survive if there isn’t.”

“Wes, I can’t be with somebody across the country. My parents did the very same thing. They disappeared on me. They put their own dreams ahead of their children. I don’t want to be with somebody who does the same thing. I know that’s selfish, Wes, and I want nothing more than to be with you. But I can’t do it again.”

“Chelsea, please.” There’s nothing but desperation in his voice. It’s a plea that almost pulls me under, almost drags me to the depths of his pain, which I’m sure I’m already not far from.

“I can’t, Wes. I can’t be in a relationship with you, not anymore. But I can give you one more night. Stay with me. Please. I’ve missed you so much.”

“Why would I want that, Chelsea? When I know that’s it?”

“Because I know you want it as desperately as I do. You have to. There’s no way it’s one sided. There’s no way I’m the only one who craves the other. This? It’s probably wrong to have allowed it to happen. But I needed to. I neededitto. I couldn’t leave things like that. And I think you knew that the end result was going to be exactly what it is.”

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