“Try to tell me you don’t still want me, Lulu,” he said, his lips teasing over my ear at the words, making a shiver course through me.
I couldn’t say that.
But I also couldn’t tell him just how desperately I wanted him, how much I’ve always wanted him, even when I tried to convince myself I didn’t. Those long, lonely nights in hostels with my heart and body aching for him, despite the years and space between us.
So my head just lowered instead, my face pressing into his neck as he continued to work me.
“Thought about this a lot,” he murmured into my hair as his fingers got a little slower, making sure I was paying attention to each deep stroke. “Always fucking missed the feel of you,” he added.
The feel of me, I reminded my foolish, romantic, sappy-ass heart. Not just me. The feel of me.
And I absolutely could not let myself fall heart-first for him again because he missed my damn body.
Still, my walls tightened around his fingers, begging for more.
A rumble moved through his chest at that, making his fingers pull out of me, then out of my pants, both hands moving out to work my button and zipper free then wiggle my pants down my hips.
My greedy hand slid down the muscles of his chest and stomach before snagging the tuck of the towel, and flicking it loose.
The growl that moved through him then reverberated through my chest, making my sex clench hard.
He’d always liked it when I took charge.
And I’d always got even more turned on by taking charge.
My hand slipped down, finding his straining cock, and closing my hand around it, stroking him to the hilt.
Whatever control we’d been holding onto disappeared at that moment.
Valen’s hand went behind my neck, grabbing hard, yanking me forward, and sealing his lips to mine.
Nothing slow or sweet or reminiscent.
This was hard and deep and hungry, full of the intensity that came from our complicated situation.
Teeth nipped, tongues met, and lips bruised into one another.
Valen’s hands slipped under my shirt, teasing over my belly before he yanked down the cups of my bra, and grabbing my breasts, squeezing almost to the point of pain, making a ragged groan escape me.
My own hand started to work his cock again with the same firm pressure but slower pace I knew he loved as his fingers found my hardened nipples and started to roll them into tighter buds.
The whole world fell away as we touched each other.
Gone were the years of separation, the nights of aching longing, the heartbreak so painful that I felt it in my teeth, in the strands of my hair, in the very blood running through my veins.
All there was at that moment was him. Fucking wonderful him. With the scent I remembered, the knowing touch I remembered, the way we always seemed perfectly moved together, knew what the other wanted without having to ask.
Valen’s lips ripped from mine as my hand left his cock. His fingers sank into my hips, grabbing me, turning me so I faced myself and him in the mirror.
My arm shot out toward the glass container on the counter.
A condom jar.
Provided, it seemed, by Billie. Who’d made a craft day out of it, having three little cartoon penises on it. One with a condom like a halo over the top, the next with the condom halfway down, and the third with a completely protected one.
Below it in flowing, feminine script were the words All the fucks you will give.
I’d had a laugh about it the first time I’d seen it.
Ever since, though, I found myself watching the contents of it, wondering how many condoms were missing each day. And who was taking them.
I’d never been jealous.
Well, no.
That wasn’t true.
Back when I’d had Valen as my own, I’d been possessive and jealous.
But ever since, I never really cared enough about someone to care who he was fucking aside from me.
Since coming back to the club, though, it was heavy on my mind, and those old feelings reared their ugly heads.
Grabbing the condom, I passed it back toward Valen who took it and slid it on, his gaze moving to mine when he was done as his hand slapped down on my ass hard.
Before I could even fully register that sting, he was slamming inside of me, taking me deep, both of us letting out a gasp at the sensation, at all the memories it brought back.
“God, I fucking missed you,” he hissed as his hands flexed on my hips.
I wanted to protect myself from those words, but it was too late. My heart leaped at them.
There were no more thoughts then, though.
We were too lost in our bodies, lost in each other.
What started off a little slow, a little reflective and sweet, got harder and faster as the need spread through us, became impossible to deny.