“D-Dev—”
“Say it.”
Everything is too much. The coil in my stomach breaks in an explosion of electric heat. It runs up my spine while my core quivers with wave after wave. My orgasm threatens to shake me apart at the seams as I scream.
“I’m yours! I’m yours, yours, yours, fuck!”
Devlin’s teeth sink into my shoulder with a fierce sound as his hips pump. His arms wrap around me as he tenses. His cock throbs inside me and I feel the hot sensation of his come.
My heart pounds, rushing in my ears and thudding through my body as we shake together, wracked by aftershocks of our releases. Our breaths come in ragged pants, dragging air into our lungs.
For a long stretch, Devlin holds me. I’m wrung out, my whole body aching pleasantly with the twinge of use, from my rug-burned knees to my tender skin where Devlin left his marks. He traces the tender bruise forming over my star tattoo with a gentle touch, following his caress with a light kiss.
There’s a scary amount of truth in my answer to Devlin’s demand.
I want to be his and I want him to be mine.
“Are you okay?”
I hum, too exhausted to form words and ready to collapse to the rug. Devlin places soft kisses wherever he can reach.
“Why don’t you go upstairs. Put on one of my shirts and climb in bed.”
I tense. “Where will you be?”
“Out for a little bit.” A hardness creeps back into his tone. “I have a quick...errand to take care of.”
“Now?” I twist to see him, but he hugs me tighter.
“It’s important.” Devlin mouths at the crook of my neck. “Promise, I’ll be back soon.”
“Okay.”
Every muscle protests as Devlin helps me to my feet. I’m going to faceplant into bed. Devlin cups my face, gliding his thumb over my cheek. The wonder from before lingers, lighting up the ominous shadows in his eyes. He kisses my forehead tenderly.
After Devlin heads for the garage, I go upstairs, not bothering with any of the clothes he flung around in our romp. Despite the exhaustion and satisfaction of the experience downstairs, a niggling restlessness prods at me while I clean up in the bathroom. We didn’t exactly address the point I brought up to him. With a ragged sigh, I slap the used washcloth in the sink, pad into the bedroom, and open one of the panels to Devlin’s closet. As I poke through his hoodies, I chew on my lip.
It was great in the moment, but was I repeating the past b
y not using protection? There are options now, more than my parents had. Still, I can’t beat back the uncertainty welling in my chest.
As I dig through the stack of t-shirts I love to steal from, a rustling makes me pause when I pull out the one I want. “What the…?”
I tug on the shirt and a folded magazine page flutters to the floor from inside the shirt. My stomach sinks as I pick it up and open it.
Our contract.
“Shit,” I whisper, throat tight. “Why do you still have this if—?”
The niggling worry roars to life, making my stomach roll. I thought Devlin and I were fighting together, but am I wrong? Are we back where we started? Did we ever progress in the first place?
A pained gasp pierces the oppressive silence in the room.
Maybe he forgot he had it.
But the shirt I put on is one Devlin wore last week. The creases on the page speak volumes to how often it’s been opened and folded.
“Damn it.” Rubbing my forehead, I pace at the foot of the bed. “Is he playing me?”