Page 21 of The Loves We Lost

Instead, I lose myself in all of him. I lose myself in the sweep of his tongue, the finger circling my asshole, the way he breaks momentum and bites my labia. Not just a nibble either. Something that painfully snaps through me before I slip back into the ecstasy of it.

If I try to lift away from him, he tugs me back down. My knees shake; my breath comes in gasps. I slam a palm against the headboard as I try to remain upright. I can’t see Miles’s eyes; I wish I could know what he’s thinking.

As I skirt the sensations that tell me I’m about to come, I wonder what the hellI’mthinking.

I’ve spent a little over six years living life as safely as possible since we split, and yet here I am, being utterly reckless.

Gloriouslyreckless.

In almost record time, an orgasm rips through me, reminding me just how much better orgasms from someone else feel versus the ones I give myself.

“Miles,” I cry out, and I shift my hands to the sheets, gripping the fabric hard as my body shakes.

With little care, he slides from beneath me, jumps off the bed, and kicks off his boots. I slump down onto the bed and end up lying on my back as I watch him strip his clothes. Worries crowd me, saying this is a foolish move, but I bite them back.

It’s unfair how good he looks. Especially when I’ve had a child and carry my weight a little differently these days.

Shit, I wonder if he’s noticed the few stretch marks that live on my stomach no matter what I do. I fight the urge to cover them. But under no circumstances am I going to tell him about Avery.

He’s not huge like one of those jacked body builders, but everything about him is perfection. Muscles sit in defined relief on each and every limb. His tattoos flow in one seamless piece of art in black and gray. I want to run my fingers over his washboard stomach and lick a trail down the dip of his V.

Angry sex is great, but it’s a one-time thing. Just as I didn’t want to get messed up in his world, I would die before I’d put Avery in his path.

“You don’t want this, Vi, you’ve got about five seconds to run into that bathroom. I’ll be gone and out of your hair before you lock the door. But if you stay, I fuck you. Hard. All night. Then we say goodbye.”

One night. I can do this. I can pretend, like my characters, that I belong in his world. Like my characters, I want this kind of sex. The kind where he dominates. The kind where the gruffness of his voice rumbles in my chest. The kind were my body lights up like a firecracker beneath his fingers as he fucks me and tosses me around and makes me come over and over.

The way he used to.

For one night, I can be the young and carefree Viola.

For one night, I can remember what it means to be in the hands of a lover. To feel skin against my own in a way I’ve missed in the deepest pits of my heart.

When I don’t move, Miles looks down at the floor. He shakes his head as if reconciling something in his own mind. And then he’s on the bed with me, his body pressed against mine. He reaches a hand between us, and his cock breaches me.

“Condom,” I gasp. I’m not on the pill. Haven’t had a need to be.

“Don’t have one with me, but trust me. I’ve never fucked another bitch without a condom and get tested. Got no desire to be a father.”

His words hurt. I want to throw Avery in his face. I want to tell him to look at the miracle we made. I want to show him what a life away from the club could look like. And then I realize I have no man on the scene. I have no budding relationship. And I want a sibling for Avery so badly.

He inches in a little farther. I should stop him, but I can’t bring myself to. Because I have the slightest chance that I could end up with two girls from the same man who is never going to fight for custody.

He doesn’t ask if I’m on the pill, and I don’t tell him. Instead, I thread my arms around Miles’s neck and slide into this memory with him. The one where we’re still kids. The one where we have no responsibilities and the world is a wondrous place. The one where we aren’t jaded.

I shut out all the noise.

I shut out the past.

I shut out the future.

I’m playing roulette with how the rest of my life is going to go.

But as Miles slides into me in a solid thrust, I forget everything.

“Fuck, Vi,” Miles says as he coils his hips and thrusts firmly into me again.

And again.