One Dirty Night

The moment I admitted that to myself: every stare, every feeling, every conversation we’d shared—every emotion that I’d done my best to protect myself from roared into being.

The black room rippled and shimmered. My vision went soft at the edges as a glimmer settled over my mind.

I love him.

And he must love me.

He’s claimed me.

Enchanted me.

I didn’t exist without him inside me.

He’s inside me.

Yes.

God, yes.

I moaned and gave over every last piece to the man who’d finally decided to adore me.

Every cell heightened into an eviscerating awareness. I didn’t just feel his hardness inside me, I felt his heat, his heartbeat, and his secrets.

I faded from everything into just one thing.

Just a vessel.

An element at the mercy of another.

Being granted pleasure beyond comprehension.

Pleasure that tore me in two and stitched me back together in entirely new ways.

I tightened and tingled. I flew and fell. I had no power to focus because all my focus was on him.

Us.

This.

Him inside me.

Him riding me.

Him forcing me higher and higher into a rainbow-raining sky. A merciless release ribboned around my heart and laced around my lungs, cracking my ribs, threatening to snap every bone.

Voices sounded far away, down a tunnel and deep beneath the cold blue sea.

I closed my eyes and drowned beneath the sensations of Nick claiming me.

Riding me.

Fucking me in a primitive dance of in and out, deep and dark, hard and deliriously consuming.

“Ella.” A voice that’d haunted me for months. A voice that’d been kind to me in my dreams only to be so harsh whenever I woke up. “Sweetheart?” Lips landed on my shoulder blades as the thrusts inside me slowed and seduced.

They braided with the sultry music still serenading us, scrambling my mind until I saw nothing but light and stars.

Sweetheart.