Wes was insanely happy for me. We celebrated by drinking too much champagne, making love on the open beach where we started our morning surfing, and tumbling salty and sandy into our big bed. Wes did have twisted dreams that night, only his response was very different.
I felt him startle awake but there was no scream. Still, I knew the routine, so I moved to jump out of our bed, talk him off his cliff, and then love him with every inch of my body until the only thing left in his head was us and our love, but he stopped me with a forcible lock of his arm around my waist. He was hard as a rock against my bum, and without thinking, I tilted my hips, brushing against it. He hissed, his breath flitting across the shell of my ear, taunting me into submission.
“Sweetheart, I’m fine.” His tone was harsh, but the fact that he used an endearment was a plus.
“Do you love me?” I asked instantly. It had worked every other time, but something had changed tonight, almost as if the script or routine had been rewritten.
Wes’s hand moved down, and he cupped my sex. Instantly, wetness coated his fingers when he pushed two of them inside me.
I moaned low and deep. “Baby…do you love me?” I asked again.
He bit down on my shoulder, pushing the satin string down to fall against my bicep. “Yes. I love every fucking inch of you. I love fucking you. I fucking love you,” he growled and pushed another finger in, impaling three thick digits into the heart of me, over and over. I arched into his ministrations and reached behind me to loop an arm around his neck.
“Where are you, baby?” I asked through the haze of lust, my hips moving in counterpoint to his shallow thrusts.
“In you,” he responded while licking up my neck. His other hand came around and held my chin aloft.
Like a ninja, he twisted and pushed me face down into the mattress, his blessed fingers gone. I groaned my irritation.
He was answering every question I asked, but his tone, the way he went about it, was all wrong. With unbelievable accuracy, he yanked my hips up so I was supporting my weight on my knees when he plowed into me. I cried out, screamed rather. Even though he’d worked me up, I was nowhere near ready for the spike of steel between his legs. His cock was hard as stone and unrelenting as he slammed into me.
“Gonna take you over and over, sweetheart. Need it. Need your sweet cunt. Need your wetness. It’s so dry, so fucking dry. I can’t breathe!” He pounded into me, leaning over. “No moisture. You’re my oasis in this hell hole,” he murmured while biting into the skin of my lower back. He bit down so hard I shrieked, but he only bit harder.
It stung so bad, but at the same time, his dick was hitting that spot inside that made me keen. Over and over, he battled his demons with every brutal thrust, taking me higher and higher.
“Get me out of here, sweetheart. Take me away,” he begged.
It was too much—the pressure, the sting, the accuracy of every press and release into my body. I couldn’t stop my body’s response. I orgasmed, my * clutching him hard, but he didn’t stop and didn’t release. Over and over he powered into me until he took me over the edge again and again. He was mindless in his pursuit of my pleasure, but he didn’t come.
Finally after the fourth time of shooting into the stratosphere, I collapsed down to the mattress, but he held tight to my hips. “No! Need you. Need you to make it go away,” he cried out, sobbing through it.
With energy I didn’t know I had left in me, I pushed back, kneeling on my knees, impaled on his cock. He tried to push me back down but instead I bumped him back. His dick finally left me as he fell to his ass. I turned around and straddled him, pushing my knees against his thighs and my hands against his biceps. It was like one of those bug displays where the butterfly was pinned to the board. I had my guy pinned. He was so exhausted he allowed it. Thank God.
Tears streamed down his face as he shook his head from left to right. His skin was covered in sweat.
I got really close to his face. “Look at me!” I spoke loud enough to break through the noise of his sobs. His eyes shot open. Pupils fully dilated. Just as I suspected, he was locked deep into the flashback.
“Wes!” I was yelling. “Come. Back. To. Me.” I kissed his lips and each time gave him love, stability, and his home. I could feel him start to participate more, until finally, his fingers tunneled into my hair holding my head, our lips hovering over one another. “Mia…you’re paradise,” he whispered against my lips, licking the bruised flesh.
“Wes…” I kissed him with every ounce of love I had. Deep, tongue tangling, lip bruising, soul affirming presses, until I said the one thing that sealed it. “Remember me, Wes. Baby, remember us,” I whimpered and his eyes flashed open. Nothing but green orbs the color of fresh cut grass on a sunny morning.
“Nothing will ever make me forget you, Mia. Forget us. You’re my forever. The only reason to fight this is for you…my personal paradise.”
“Baby, I love you,” I choked over the emotion swelling in my chest.
“God, Mia, saying I love you isn’t enough.”