Page 78 of Don't Say You're Sorry

We were on his bed at home, in the same position we are now. Axel had gone back to college after Christmas break, our parents were asleep, and I had Easton all to myself again. It felt like a crushing weight had been lifted off my chest.

“What do you want?” he asks between his kisses, his mouth dipping down to the crook of my neck. “Want me to tie you up? Or?—”

“No,” I interrupt, palming his face and pulling his mouth back to mine. “I don’t want to fuck tonight. I want this.”

“You want me to kiss you?”

I nod, looping my arms around his neck.

“Why?” he asks against my lips. He doesn’t sound angry or annoyed, just curious.

I’m a little embarrassed to admit it, but this is Easton. I could tell him anything, and he’d never judge me or make fun of me for it.

“Because when you kiss me, it feels like I can breathe again.” His mouth never leaves mine, our tongues swirling together, but I know he’s listening intently. “My thoughts just…run away from me. Nothing and nobody else matters. They don’t even exist. It’s just you and me.”

His mouth stretches into a smile as he runs his nails over my scalp.

“Just you and me, baby.”

I blink at the sound of his rough voice, returning to the present. That’s the exact same thing he said to me that night four years ago.

He’s still staring at me, and I’m still staring at his mouth, waiting for something he’s not about to give me.

“Turn around.”

I roll onto my front. He opens his nightstand drawer, taking out the tie he stole from me.

“Hands behind your back.”

I obey, and he meticulously ties my wrists together, driving me crazy. Once he’s finished, he straddles me, sits on my thighs, and admires his handiwork, his hands running up my sides. I shiver, turning my head to try to see him.

“If you don’t fuck me this time—andlet me come—I’m moving back to London.” The joke is a risk, but to my delight, it pays off. In the corner of my eye, he smiles wickedly.

“Try it,” he murmurs, leaning over me and wrapping his hand around my throat. “I’ll chase you, and I’ll catch you this time. You’re not getting away from me again, baby.”

I nod, reveling in his possessiveness.

“I’m gonna fuck you bare,” he says, reaching into the drawer to grab the lube. “Okay?”

“Yes,” I rasp.

My heart hammers as he pulls my jeans off, his palms gliding over my ankles, my calves, and the backs of my thighs. His thumbs spread my ass cheeks, and then he’s tugging on the base of the plug, removing it and tossing it to the side. I hear him spit right before something wet and cold hits my inner thighs. I’m wearing nothing but his T-shirt, covered in his saliva and cum, and it makes me feel both filthy and hot as fuck.

It makes me feel like his.

He grabs the lube, and then his wet fingers are at my entrance. He circles my hole a few times before he fingers me, scissoring me open. Trapped beneath him and unable to move, my nails dig into my palms, and I curl my toes. I don’t want to rush this, but I want his dick inside menow. I don’t want to give him time to change his mind.

“What’s wrong? You need more prep?” he asks.

“No. I’m ready.”

“It’s been a long time,” he reminds me. “It might hurt a bit.”

“Good. I want it to hurt. I want to feel you every time I move tomorrow.”

His fingers pause inside me before he pulls them out. “Bend your knees and spread your legs.”

I curse and maneuver myself until I’m where he wants me. Ass up, my cheek smushed against the pillow, my wrists tiedbehind my back. He’s going to ruin my insides in this position. I can’t fucking wait.