I slide my hand under her thigh, lifting it, and I hook it on my shoulder. Then, I put my mouth on her pussy.
She cries out my name, her hands gripping my hair. The sound drives me crazy. It drives me on.
She tastes exactly the same, feels exactly the same.
Fully aware of how she likes to be touched, I run my tongue up her center and then suck her clit into my mouth as I slip a finger inside her.
Mouth still on her, I look up at her. She’s staring down at me. Her eyes are glazed and filled with wonderment and lust.
Knowing I’m doing this to her, making her feel this way, has me feeling like a king.
She always could lift me up.
I know it’s only a temporary, fleeting feeling, and when it’s over, I’ll come crashing back down, but I’ll take what I can right now. I need this. I need her, more than I realized or wanted to admit to myself.
Closing my eyes, I get back to it, giving her what she needs and taking what I want in return.
I lick and suck her with my mouth and fuck her with my finger.
Moments later, she’s blowing apart against my mouth.
Pulling my finger from her, I run my tongue around her, licking her clean. Then, I suck my finger into my mouth, too.
Her eyes are staring down, watching my every movement.
She looks so fucking perfect. Her body is trembling with aftershocks of her orgasm, the orgasm I gave to her. Half of her bra is hanging down, exposing her perfect tit. Her pussy is glistening and throbbing because of me.
I have a flashback to the first time I made love to her.
She was perfect then.
She’s perfect now.
Evie will always be perfect.
But I know, underneath all that perfection, is a heart of ice.
Tears and words aside, Evie walked out on me without looking back once. And someone with a heart couldn’t do that.
It makes me want to break her. Fuck into her every ounce of pain that she made me feel, the pain I’ve carried with me every single day since she’s been gone, until she feels my pain like it’s her own.
Pushing up, I get to my feet. I need inside her now. And I don’t intend on taking her gently.
I’m going to fuck her hard. I’m going to punish her for leaving me. I want to make it so that all she remembers, all she knows, after I’ve finished with her is me and how good my cock felt inside her.
Loosening my tie with purpose, I remove it, tossing it to the floor. I open the top few buttons on my shirt, then, I reach behind, grab hold of my shirt, and tug it over my head. I let it join my tie on the floor.
I see Evie’s body still, and when I look at her, her eyes are wide and staring straight at my chest.
And I know I’m fucked.
My tattoo. I didn’t even think about it.
“You-you…had a tattoo done?” Her voice shakes.
I never had any tattoos when we were together. But I know that’s not what’s caught her attention or making her voice tremble. It’s what the tattoo says, what it represents.
In scripture, across the center of my chest, right over my heart, are the words,
AND FOR THAT WONDROUS BRIEF MOMENT IN TIME, SHE WAS MINE, AND I WAS HERS.
Directly beneath are the letters E and A, our initials, entwined.
It’s a play on the words we both had inscribed on our wedding rings.
The tattoo wasn’t done out of bitterness. It was done because of loss and pain. I was hurting. I needed something to remind me of her, of us, aside from the physical reminders I have at the beach house. I wanted something of Evie with me all of the time.
I never regretted having it done, not once.
Not until this moment.
Evie seeing it causes all kinds of wounds to open up inside of me.
I feel exposed, vulnerable, like my heart is lying there, bleeding, at her feet.
I steel myself against the agony.
But then she touches me, and I have to fight to stop myself from falling apart.
Her fingertips trace over my ink, over the words that scream my feelings for her.
My heart is racing. Her touch burns. I close my eyes against the pain.
“Adam?”
I open my eyes. Hers are filled with emotion and need.
And my desire for her blows up like a grenade hitting pavement.
I kiss her hard without restraint or reserve.
I need to be inside her.
I rip open my pants and shove them and my boxers down over my hips.
“Are you on birth control?” I ask roughly.
“Yes.”
“I’m clean,” I tell her. “I get regular checks.”
I see a flash of something in her eyes, but it’s gone before I can figure out what it is.
“I’m…clean, too,” she says on a whisper.
I lock eyes with her. I’m fighting against the thought of any other man touching her, fucking her.
I grit my teeth.
I need to mark her as mine again.
My hands go under her thighs. I lift her, her back sliding up the wall, and I slam straight inside her.