Page 82 of Examining the Bond

Her marshmallow scent still clings to the fibers, fainter now after several days, but still rich enough to sink through me like abalm. It soothes over my frayed nerves, quiets my chaotic mind. It flows through me, filling all the voids, dulling the throbbing ache in my chest.

The truth is obvious, even if I don’t want to acknowledge it. No matter what I do, no matter how many hours I spend killing myself in the gym, I won’t be able to get her out of my head.

She’s a permanent part of me now, buried in my marrow.

Fuck.

I’ve never been so completely captivated by someone before, and my heart argues with every bit of logic I possess. We’re not a scent match, I know that in my bones. But a single scent shouldn’t have so much power over me, shouldn’t have me desperate to crawl across the country on my hands and knees just to smell her in person.

Another deep inhale, and my head is spinning with images of Riann. The way she laughed over her fries when I took her to lunch. The way I held her through her panic attack after she learned the truth. The way I proceeded to bend her over the exam table and fuck her while she sucked my fingers.

The tiniest noise escapes my lips at the thought of her tongue dancing over my fingertips. I scold myself, but that doesn’t help with the onslaught of images that follow.

Riann in my office chair…

Riann coming for me in her hotel room…

Riann yelling and telling me to leave…

Fuck.

An ache blooms in my chest, and I close my eyes, imagining her straddling me in my bed. Her lips tease along my neck while her hands explore my body. They slip over my chest and down my stomach, her fingers slowly diving toward the apex of my thighs. Even though it’s just a daydream, my muscles tense in anticipation.

“Preciosa,” I whisper, nearly inaudible.

Embarrassed heat warms my cheeks, but I shove it away. I’m completely alone; it’s not like anyone is going to walk in and find me touching myself to the thought of my sweet delta.

I should have come that night in her hotel room. I should have let her touch me, even if I had to finish the job myself. She wanted to return the favor so badly, to touch me the way I touched her, and I denied her. I thought it made the most sense. After all, she would have been upset when she couldn’t make me come.

It doesn’t matter how often my previous partners said they were okay with it; there’s a stigma attached to coming, and they thought they weren’t good enough to please me. I never wanted Riann to feel like she’s inadequate or not enough for me, because she’s everything I could ever need.

I’mthe broken one; I’m the one who can’t come for anyone else.

But would it have been so hard to let her try?

A throb between my thighs is followed by a swell of heat, and I brush my fingers over my pubic bone, pretending they’re Riann’s instead of mine. They dip lower, slipping along my seam, and I’m surprised to find how wet I am. Apparently, the idea of her touching me is more appealing than I thought.

As my fingers brush over my clit, a stuttered breath knocks from my lungs, and I bring Riann’s shirt to my nose, drowning in her scent again. My thoughts haze over as it invades my senses, and I roll my fingers over my clit again, finding a comfortable rhythm.

It would be so easy to guide Riann’s hand and show her what I like. To coach her gently on all the ways I’ve been able to make myself come. She could explore on her own, if she wanted, slipping her fingers inside me…

My core throbs at the thought of her delicate digits pressing into my channel, and I drop Riann’s shirt on my chest to grip mytit with my free hand. The pain cuts through my hazy thoughts and intensifies the sensation of my fingers on my clit.

“Riann.” Her name falls off my tongue like a whispered prayer, and she’s all I see.

I want to bring her here, to show her the place I call home. I want to have her in my bed, fucking her into utter bliss every day for the rest of our lives. I’d fall asleep with her ass pressed against me, my arms wrapped around her, and I’d wake her with my face between her thighs.

I wish she was here to see me. Teasing me with her coy smirk, watching me stroke myself to her. Then I could show her how much I love her, how I’ve barely been getting by without her. If she was here, we could figure it out; I know we could. And then it could be her hands on me instead of mine…

The image of her sitting in my office chair replays in my head, with me on my knees, worshipping her pussy until she came. My breathing picks up as I recall the taste of her, the sweetness of her marshmallow scent stuffing into my lungs, and my fingers move faster.

Fuck, I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anything. More than I want my next breath.

My muscles tighten as I speed up my frantic circles on my clit, the images of me fucking Riann driving me closer to the edge until I finally fly over it. Pleasure slams into me, racking my body with convulsions as I come harder than I ever have. My cries echo through the house, bouncing off the walls.

When the last aftershock ripples through my body, I’m panting hard. I pry my eyes open, the images of Riann fading as the ceiling takes up my view. My bottom lip trembles as post-nut clarity slams into me full force. I don’t bother trying to fight off tears anymore, letting them slide down the sides of my face and fall onto the bed.

What the fuck have I done?