Page 98 of Breaking Ophelia

“You’re insane,” she says.

“Look who’s talking.”

She bucks under me, twisting until she gets a knee between my legs, and I let her. She flips us, straddling my hips, hands braced on my chest. Her hair falls like a curtain, hiding us from the rest of the world.

The air is full of her, salt and skin, the reek of fear replaced by something sweeter.

She bends, lips at my ear. “Do it, then,” she says. “Ruin me.”

I grab her by the thighs and drag her closer. She’s soaked, cold, but her mouth is warm, tongue alive against mine. I bite her lip, hard enough to taste copper, and she moans into it, grinding down on my cock. Unsurprisingly, my shriveled dick springs to life as her warm pussy slides up and down over my jeans.

She leans back and upzips my pants, freeing me before sliding her panties to the side. Blue lips, goosebumps over her flesh, teeth clacking, but my vixen wants it. She needs it.

The pain makes her feel alive.

Makes her understand that all of this wasn’t for nothing.

It was to build everything.

We fuck right there, in the freezing shallows, her legs locked around me, arms tight at my neck. Every thrust is a shock, water and sand grinding at our skin, but she doesn’t care. She wants it. She wants me.

She rocks against me, harder, faster, until she’s screaming into my mouth, nails carving blood into my chest. I let go, flipping her back onto the sand, give her everything, holding her down so she can’t escape, not that she’d want to.

When it’s done, I fall on top of her, chest heaving. There’s sand and water and seaweed everywhere. Neither of us look pretty and I’m fairly certain there’s grit in my asshole, but I don’t give a fuck. I wrap my arms around her, keeping her from the wind, and just hold her. Neither of us says a word.

The cold seeps in, but it doesn’t matter. The ache in my bones is nothing compared to the way her body fits against mine, every inch perfect, like we were cut from the same fucking piece.

She shivers, then laughs, breath clouding above us.

“You’re such a brute,” she says, voice soft.

“And you love it,” I answer.

She runs her fingers down my chest, over the scars, the bite marks she left. “Yeah,” she says. “I do.”

We lay there for a couple minutes, staring at the sky, letting the world creep back in.

She kisses me, slow and sweet, then rolls off, standing and brushing sand off her skin. It’s futile. She looks like sandman.

I follow suit and tuck my cock back in my pants before we walk back to the house and turn on the showers, warming our cold bodies and washing off our sins.

We stay in there for a while, side by side, staring at the future written in each others eyes.

“Well, if we’re gonna be here a while, we may as well have fun and live life to the fullest. Let’s order in some food and get this place heated. I saw your bear rug and I’ve always wanted to fuck on a rug in front of a fire, just like in the movies.” Her voice softens as we turn the water off and get out.

She turns to face me, cupping my chin. “I love you, Cai.”

For the first time, I believe in it.

I believe in her.

And I believe, just for a second, that we might actually make it.

“I love you too, O.”

Epilogue: Ophelia

Thereisawaythe light slices through the greenhouse glass—warped and diamond-bright that always makes me feel at peace.