Page 126 of Atone

Or maybe, it’s hell.

A place that burns me from the inside out. Where lust sears so hot I can barely hold myself against it.

She hums, and my knees buckle.

Touch is pain.

Touch is torture.

But Mila is none of those things. She stitches me back together. Her throat works to take me deeper, and all I feel are the good things I never believed existed.

Her eyes don’t leave mine because she knows I need them. Tears leak from the corners as she tries to stretch her pretty mouth to fit me. And I wipe those tears away with my thumbs, rubbing the underside of her eyes, trying to understand them.

How sadness can exist on the same spectrum as pain and pleasure and euphoria.

Emotions never made sense to me, but Mila hands me all of them.

She swallows my cock down her throat, and I stick my thumb in my mouth to taste her tears. To wrap my mind around what she’s doing to me.

It’s too complex.

Salt and honey. Things that don’t make sense together.

Like us.

I pull my hips back until her mouth pops off my cock. The breath that fills her lungs sucks all the air from the room. As good as her tongue feels, I need more of her.

All of her.

Gripping her chin, I guide her to stand so she can meet my kiss. She melts into my arms, and when I drag my hands down the back of her thighs, she trusts me with her weight, wrapping her ankles around my hips where she belongs.

I’m her home, and she’s my anchor.

Stepping forward, I drop us down on the bed. Her legs hang over the edge, and I’m still mostly standing, but there’s no time. I need to be inside her. She can think what she wants about my desperation, but I’ve never needed anything like I need Mila.

I slip her lace panties to the side and don’t bother with the rest of her lingerie before sliding deep. Her breath, a whisper that tries to escape as her slick cunt grips me with every ounce of her need. I seal my mouth to hers, and I fuck her with everything I’m feeling.

Defeat.

Hope.

Opposite ends of a coin that won’t stop spinning.

I fuck her onto the bed until I’m climbing over her. Until she’s clawing at my shirt and ripping it off me. My jeans are at my ankles, and her tits spill out the top of the lace. Her pebbled nipples brush my chest. My teeth sink into the heavy mound of her breast, and she screams.

So I steal that too.

Swallow her scream and claim the kiss. I bite her lower lip while she pants and sucks and moans for me. Her hands roam everywhere.

She paints me with her touch.

Over my neck, my chest, my scars.

Mila is the only one allowed to explore me. She’s the only one allowed to touch me. To know me. Because she doesn’t look at me and see the mess they made. She sees who I really am.

Her nails dig into my sides as her pussy tightens, and I barely fit. If she squeezes much harder, I’m going to come or black out. Maybe one, then the other.

Her head tips back, breaking the kiss with her scream as she comes. And that’s all the resistance I have. She undoes the cork and releases me.