When I Was Yours(81)

“Jesus, Evie.” He shudders. “Your mouth feels so fucking good.”

His praise tugs low in my belly.

I haven’t had a chance to do this to him since we started sleeping together again. Adam is always so in control, so dominant in the bedroom. He was sexually dominant when we were younger, but he’s definitely stepped up his game since then. I’m just trying not to think about how he’s achieved that.

I can taste myself on him, and the reminder that he was just inside me and that he’ll soon be back there brings me back, turning me on even more. My pussy throbs between my legs, which is surprising, considering he just gave me an epic orgasm less than a minute ago.

Wanting to please him, I take more of him into my mouth, but I can’t take him all. My gag reflex has never been amazing, and Adam’s cock is big. I circle the base with my hand, gripping firmly. Then, I suck him hard and jack him off in tandem, just how I know he likes it.

Or used to like.

“Fuck yeah. That’s it, Evie. You suck me so fucking good.”

Still likes. Yay me!

His hips shift forward as he grabs my head, his fingers tangling in my hair, and he starts fucking my mouth. But he’s careful never to push back too far. He always was.

It makes me love him all the more.

He fucks my mouth while my hand jacks him off. Then, all too soon, he’s pulling away, his cock slipping from my mouth.

“I need to fuck you. Now.” Hands under my arms, he picks me up and tosses me onto the bed.

I hit the mattress with a gentle oomph.

Adam is on me in seconds.

Hands pinning mine above my head, he thrusts inside me.

“God, Adam!” I close my eyes against the sensation, my fingers squeezing around his hands, my nails biting his skin.

I expect him to start fucking me like a madman, but he stays still inside me.

I open my eyes, and he’s just staring down at me.

Releasing my hands, he rests his forearm on the bed by my head, his fingers brushing the hair from my face before stroking my cheek. His gaze is almost tender, a look I haven’t seen on him in a very long time.

He runs his other hand down my side and along my thigh. Then, he curls his hand around my leg, lifting it, and he hooks it over his hip.

Lowering his mouth to mine, he softly kisses me.

Then, he starts to slowly move inside me. It’s so very different from all the other times we’ve had sex recently.

This feels like it used to all those years ago, back when he still loved me.

And I can almost make myself believe that, in this moment, that’s what’s happening—that he’s making love to me.

So, that’s what I do.

I close my eyes as I wrap my arms around him, and I let myself believe.

Our lips are still pressed together, not kissing, just breathing into each other.

He makes love to me, until I start to feel that familiar pull in my lower belly, my clit tingling from each firm stroke from the base of his cock.

“Adam…” I whisper his name.

“Come for me, Evie.”

My body shatters around his, and I know he’s done. The feel of me tightening around him always sets him off.

He lets out a long moan, my name mixed in with it, his body shuddering. He comes inside me, coating my insides with his release.

We stay here, him inside me, as we kiss soft, gentle kisses, making out like we used to when we were kids. It’s been a long time since we’ve done this.

I try not to think what it could mean for us.

But I am hoping against hope that something has changed here. I know I’m a fool to think this, but I can’t help myself.

I wish for more, not what we had because I know I can never get that back, but something new with him.

I’d just be happy to have anything of Adam, anything he’s willing to give me.

I run my fingers down his side, causing him to laugh against my mouth. I love the sound. He always was ticklish there.

“I should clean up. I just don’t want to move.”

“So, don’t.” I stroke my fingers down his back.

He lifts his head and stares into my eyes.

I see something change in them, something that leaves me feeling cold. It’s almost like he’s switching off on me.

Desperate to keep him with me, I press my lips to his, kissing him. He kisses me back, but it doesn’t feel the same.

I’ve lost him.

Shutting my eyes, I draw back from him.

He pulls out of me and sits on the edge of the bed. His back is rigid.

“Talk to me,” I say softly.

He glances back at me, his expression closed off. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“What about what I saw…the things in your old room?”

His face darkens, his brows pulling together. “I told you downstairs that I didn’t want to talk about it. That hasn’t changed.” He gets up from the bed and walks over to the chest of drawers. He pulls open a drawer and gets out a pair of running shorts.