It feels like he’s possessing me, like he’s owning me. I don’t know if I hate it or crave more. I can’t think past the feel of him, the pleasure of him slowly fucking me with his fingers, dragging the heel of his palm over my clit in the same rhythm. Fuck, that feels good. My eyes threaten to flutter closed, but I can’t lose the thread of this conversation. “Why not? The only rules are the ones we make.”
His chuckle almost sounds like a curse. “And what happens then? Do we live in a happy little throuple until we’re old and gray? Since when do you chase fantasies like that?”
I don’t. I never have. I never will. But it still hurts for him to demolish the possibility of that future before I even allowed myself to contemplate it. I press my palms to the tile, arching back against him. His cock is a hard length at my ass, and the feeling has me moaning nearly as much as his hand playing with my pussy. I try to focus, to gasp out the words that need to be said. “Better to strive for that than to become your father—old and angry and alone until the day he died.”
Eli freezes, and for one delirious moment, I’m sure I’ve gone too far.
But then he drags me to the bench and sits down on it, pulling me astride him. “You’re so fucking mean now, Harlow.” His hazel eyes have a light in them I’ve never seen before. He looks downright feral. “Why do I like that so much?”
I wrap my fist around his cock and position him at my entrance. I’m so wet, I slide down his length with barely a hitch. The full sensation steals my breath, but we’re finally sharing a degree of honesty, and I’m not about to stop now. “Because we’re not lying to each other anymore.” I start riding him. The tile bites my knees, but I don’t give a fuck. I’m too intent on my pleasure. “Because, after five years, you’re finally seeing me.”
He might be right. It might be too little, too late. I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. We’re well off the map and in uncharted territory. Here be monsters and all that. I don’t know what the future holds for us.
Perversely, that knowledge slows me down, until I’m barely moving on his cock. He’s got his hands on my hips, but he doesn’t seem interested in rushing this, either. Eli leans back against the wall, and though his gaze skates over my body, it’s my face he lingers on. As if trying to memorize this moment, this vulnerability between us. This truth.
Pleasure builds in slow waves, cresting higher and higher despite our pace. I start to close my eyes, but Eli moves one hand to cup my face and shakes his head. “No. Stay with me, Harlow.”
The one command I’m not sure I can fulfill. Not when we have so much stacked against us. “I’ll try,” I whisper. In this moment, I’m not sure if I’m lying or simply wishing on a future that will never come. It doesn’t matter.
I try to hold out, to slow down further, but we’ve gone too far. My body goes tight and hot, and then I’m grinding down on his cock, chasing an orgasm that has white spots dancing across my vision. It’s so good, it hurts. Or maybe I’m just always hurting with Eli.
He pounds up into me, chasing his own pleasure. When he comes, he says my name almost like a curse. I start to climb off him, but he wraps his arms around me, loosely holding me in place. “Just give me a minute.”
I should probably fight this; the feeling of being held by Eli is almost too sweet to bear. The feeling of time slipping through my fingers, faster and faster, shoving us toward some inevitable end… It keeps me in place. I don’t want this to end. It doesn’t seem to matter that we already have ended. I wrap my arms around his neck and hold him as our breathing slowly evens out. An act somehow just as intimate as sex; maybe more so.
My ability to keep a healthy distance falters with every moment that passes. The wall I’ve painstakingly built around my heart crumbles a little more after each interaction with these men. If I were smart, I’d say to hell with keeping my word and run. Just flee into the unknown and take my chances in another city with another set of people. Anything but kneeling at their feet, bowing my head, and hoping neither Eli nor Abel swings the sword that will end me. Not physically, never that, but a sword cuts through a heart as easily as a neck.