Page 71 of Darkened Promises

“Do it,” she demands, her eyes wild and cheeks painted pink.

I’m not going to deny that she’s aroused, that she wants the euphoria that comes from sex. But I’m not sure I want to be used any more. I’m not sure my heart can take it. If the first time I fill myself with her is like this…it will taint what we are.

Fuck, not that I know what we are anymore.

Maybe I just don’t want to taint things more.

“Honeybee, wait.”

Her eyes shutter at my softened tone. “Don’t you want me?” she whispers, eyes still looking away, shutting me out.

“Look at me, please?”

She does, and she reveals a tidal wave of emotions that almost knocks me down. Cradling her face, I press a soft kiss to her lips.

“I won’t deny you what you need. I know I’ve fucked up so many times, but I’m yours if you want me. However you need to get your hurt out, your rage, your anger at the world, I will be here. Just don’t…use me. Please?”

Her lips tremble and tears shine in her eyes.

I take a deep breath and forge on. “I need you to want me, to want us. I’m too fucking in love with you for it to be any other way.”

As her nails dig into me again, it’s for something other than lust. She’s anchoring herself to me, holding on because she needs me just as much as I need her.

“I’m sorry. I don’t seem to know how to feel anymore,” she confesses. It’s hushed and filled with shame. “It either all feels too much, or there’s nothing. None of it feels like me.”

My heart fractures at her words, to know she’s going through this. I can’t even begin to understand how she feels or how I can change it for her.

Encircling her hand, I declaw it from my neck and bring it down to my chest. “Then feel this. Us. This is us still here, surviving, no matter the shitstorm life brings.”

Her mouth parts as she feels the organ that beats for her. “Max…”

I cover her lips with mine, slower this time so I can show her everything she makes me feel. My body presses into hers, and when I pull back, her eyes are hazy and calmed.

She’s present with me.

This time, I hold myself to her slick entrance, waiting for her words.

“I need you,” she confesses, her voice cracked and hushed.

When I thrust in, her head tips back against the wall, the hand on my chest digging in as she lets out a little moan.

“Fuck, Rosy.” There’s nothing else I can say to describe this moment, or the euphoria of being connected to her.

My hips flick back and forth as I inch further in until I bottom out, and we both whimper.

“Keep looking at me. I need you to see me,” I tell her feverishly.

I slide out halfway, then pump in, meeting her pelvis with each thrust. The warm slap of our skin meeting matches the stutter of my breath.

I’ve spent years avoiding any sort of intimate connection, too scared to form a bond with anyone. But here with Rosy? I’m desperate for it. It’s like a fucking hunger I can’t ignore.

I’ve fucked up so many times. She’s offering me this lifeline, and I’m clinging on so fucking hard that she’ll have no choice but to be stuck with me. Because I might not deserve her, but fuck if that’s stopping me from selfishly taking her.

With her face close to mine, our eyes locked together, the pleasure almost drowns me. My body feels light and heavy at the same time as the sensations battle inside. There was no way to prepare for it to feel like this, that finally being with Rosy, inside her, could be this perfect.

It takes me a second to realise I’m speaking, the fevered words spilling out without thought as I keep grinding myself into her.

“Fit so perfectly. I was made for you.”