Page 12 of Grand Romantic Delusions and the Madness of Mirth, Part Two

I should have been the one to go to her. I should have risked the outright rejection I knew I deserved. I should have waited outside her apartment. Or at the gates of whatever castle walls she was sequestered behind.

I try to pull back. Just enough to give Mirth some of the words, to articulate some of the feelings rampaging through my brain.

But she wraps her arms around me, twisting her fingers in my hair and kissing me back like I’m the only thing holding her together.

Like she needs me more than oxygen, more than anything.

And I can do that. I’ve been shit at everything else she’s needed in our life together. But I’m capable of holding her, touching her. I can help anchor her in the moment, to just feel.

I palm her ass, bending my knees enough to grind against her core. Just in case she missed how much I want her. She gasps into my mouth, eyes half closed, fingers twisting harshly in my hair.

“No more games, Bolan,” she says, sucking lightly on my bottom lip. My cock twitches as if her hot mouth were sucking on it instead. “If you want me, you follow through now.”

Not totally clear if she’s being explicit, explicitly specific, I shake my head a little to clear it. It doesn’t help. “Now?”

“Yes.” She says it in that perfectly poised and cool tone that makes my balls ache. In need of her. “Fuck me now, here, or walk away one last time.”

“Here …?” I echo like an idiot. “I can’t fuck you in the woods, Mirth. You are —”

She grabs my hair hard enough to yank my head to the side. “Then don’t make any more promises you can’t keep!”

Her bright, potent anger is like a sledgehammer square to the chest, over my heart. She loosens her grip on me, stepping away and leaving me chilled without her.

I’ve missed something. Again. I try to think through the lust, through the haze of transforming twice in a row, of almost losing myself to the wolf.

Mirth must notice my confusion, because for once in our long years of terrible communication — all of that my fault — she offers clarification. Though not without a mockingly arched eyebrow and a now-ball-chilling look. “You said that if I ran, if you caught me, you’d —”

“I said …” A grin spreads across my face. I can actually feel the arrogance well up to radiate from me. “I’d fuck you where I found you.”

She takes a measured step back — taunting, eyes gleaming in challenge. “Liar, liar, Bolan.”

I lunge.

She pivots, trying to run again.

I get a handful of her long sweater, yanking her back against me. She throws her head back, trying to smash my face with her skull. She hits my shoulder instead. Wrapping a hand loosely around the front of her neck to secure her against me, I press my rock-hard cock to her ass.

She gasps. With desire.

Instincts still riding me hard, I nip the bare patch of skin between her neck and shoulder. Hard in reprimand, but not breaking the skin.

She shouts in surprise and tries to twist out of my arms.

I thrust my hands up her top, palming her breasts roughly while squeezing her nipples through her bra with my fingers.

Her mew of protest turns into a groan as she arches, pressing her breasts into my hands while rubbing her delectable ass against my cock.

Already panting, I yank her bra down just enough to free her breasts, palming one as I grind against her. Then I shove my hand into the front of her jeans to cup her pussy.

She huffs playfully at the rough treatment, reaching back to twist one arm around my head — as if I’m going anywhere — while she scores her blunt-cut nails up my other forearm.

Light-headed and so fucking hard that I’m slightly worried I’m going to fucking come before I even get Mirth’s pants off, I swiftly readjust, snagging both of her wrists and drawing them, captured in one hand, to her own chest, keeping her pinned to me.

With my free hand, I yank her pants and her lacy white underwear down to her ankles.

She writhes in my hold, playing at fighting me.

But I can feel that frayed cord of energy churning in my chest.

I can feel it reaching for her.

And I need …

I need to be inside her. That will fortify our connection. And I need that between us. We need to start healing. Together.

“Mirth?” I ask, not really able to articulate myself but just making sure she’s actually with me.

“Don’t stop, Bolan,” she snarls.

I lower her to the ground on her knees, going down on my own knees behind her. Until I’m holding her as I did at the pond. She arches her back for me, presenting her ass.

“So fucking perfect,” I groan, grabbing her hip even as I keep her wrists pinned to her chest. Thankful that my last transformation ensures I’m not totally covered in mud— my hands or my cock— I line myself up.

Sliding my cock against her warm pussy from behind, coating my tip in her wetness.

And somehow— rather heroically, it feels— I manage to not just blindly thrust all the way into her like the fucking beast I am.

She moans, arching even more to try to give me better access.

I hold her still, crowding over her back, and carefully coat my entire length in her warmth.

Cognizant of her little gasps when I rub against her clit, I try to hold off just a little longer.

But she begins to writhe against me in need, so I notch my tip within her, gently easing into her — slowly in and out — until I’m fully seated, fully encased.

She’s tight, and so fucking warm and wet. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to slow my breathing, to focus. Then I realize …

“Mirth … I don’t have a condom —”

She responds to that by shifting slightly away, slightly forward, then settling back even deeper on my cock. Then she clenches all her internal muscles around me, deliberately, demandingly.

Fuck. Fuck.

I’m holding her too tightly for her to ride me. And that isn’t what she wanted. She wanted me to fight for her, take her, make her mine.

I guide her hands to my knees on either side of her legs, then press between her shoulder blades, forcing her to lean more forward. It’s still an awkward angle. But unable to hold myself back any longer, I start fucking her.

She moans, then almost shrieks when I find her breast and pinch her nipple with one hand, seeking out her clit with the other.

“Can you come like this?” I ask, panting the words between hard, steady thrusts, barely pulling out before bottoming out over and over again. As if I can’t actually bear to move more than a few centimeters away from her.

“I don’t …” she groans. “I don’t … know.”

“We can —” I try to slow my pace, but Mirth’s nails dig into my knees, letting me know exactly what she wants. For me to continue. “I’ve … I’ve never been bare like this … and it’s you, it’s you, and I’m not …”

Pleasure stretches up my legs, exploding across my tailbone, as my orgasm hits fast and hard. Literally out of nowhere. I don’t know how I manage to do so, but I pull out — Mirth shouting in dismay — and ejaculate half into the churned mud and half onto my own leg.

I’m still fucking coming when Mirth twists to get her hand wrapped around my cock and strokes out the last few spurts.

“That was my fucking come,” she snarls.

Before I can respond — still shaking from ejaculating so hard — she captures my mouth with hers and grabs my hand, guiding it between her legs.

I press kisses along her jaw and neck, letting her show me how she wants to be fingered — two fingers, pressed on either side of her clit and at a rapid pace.

I’m still fucking high, high on Mirth, when she stiffens, then relaxes completely in my arms. Her head lolls back on my shoulder, neck stretched and open toward me.

She arcs up, pressing herself into my fingers.

Her hand tightens on my wrist. Her breath catches, mouth dropping open with a groan.

Then she shudders against my chest, cradled against me, as she orgasms.

Energy pours from Mirth, and all I can do is try to watch her, watch her face, as I tease the lingering quivers of pleasure from her.

I soften my touch, switching up the rhythm, until her perfect fucking teeth pinch down on her lush lower lip and she shudders out a second orgasm, having never completely come down from her first.

Utter satisfaction, utter contentment floods from her into me as I cup her pussy, brushing my lips up and down her neck. A bruise is slowly forming where I’ve bitten her. And I’m a fucking asshole because it satisfies me that I’ve marked her so overtly.

The tightness in my chest eases. I know this is just a step taken toward each other, but I … I’m not quite so wounded anymore, and I hope …

Mirth reaches to cup my face, and I realize that I’ve been crying. She curls her fingers over mine on her pussy, pressing her ass firmly against my groin. And yes, I’m already hardening again.

“I love you,” I whisper, shamelessly sucking on that bruised bit of skin. “Don’t say it back. Not yet. But I’ve loved you for a very long time, and I tried to be your friend. I tried to keep it that way. You and Armin. I never wanted to be anywhere but with the two of you …”

My voice breaks as I struggle, just for a breath, with the utter loss of my soul brother, Armin.

Mirth takes in a shuddering breath, battling her own grief.

“I’ve been such an idiot.” I clear my throat. “I convinced myself, when you finally came back to school, that the kiss meant nothing to you. You were so sweet and nice, and I …”

“It had to mean nothing, Bolan,” she whispers. “I had to shut down all of it … to control my powers.”

She snuggles back into me. Still cupping her pussy with one hand, I cinch my arms around her in a firm cuddle.

I should straighten her clothes, salvage what I can of mine, and get her out of the cold. But I need just a moment longer. I suddenly have too much to say and not any of the words I need to articulate it all.