never pushed.
It wasn’t her, and as I thought about her reaction, my anger intensified. She’d told me how she’d done that with him, tried to be whatever she thought he wanted, tried to say or not say whatever it took to keep him from hurting her.
Was she doing that with me? Did she fear me, think me capable of hurting her?
“You left,” I said as I sat up and watched her come closer. My voice was edged with anger, but she didn’t react to it, at least not outwardly.
“Yes,” she replied as she reached for the lamp, going out of her way not to look at me.
“Leave it,” I said.
She dropped her hand and then lay beside me, still without looking at me. Her back was toward me, creating an impenetrable wall that screamed she wanted nothing to do with me. That stung. On those nights we went to bed together, she always curled against me, her body soft against mine, her breath warming my skin as she kissed me while I held her.
“We weren’t finished talking,” I said, my voice deepening as I moved closer and wrapped my arms around her and pulled her close until her back was against my chest.
That got her attention.
She turned to look at me then, her dark eyes flashing hurt and anger, her brow furrowed. “You said all you needed to,” she replied.
Then she lowered her eyes and the moment was gone. Distant, polite Fawn was back. She held herself rigid, not sinking against me as she always did. She was pretending like I wasn’t even there, like my arms weren’t around her.
Hurt, deep hurt, hurt of the kind I didn’t think I was capable of experiencing, pierced my chest. It squeezed tight, gripping my heart so tight, I thought my chest would burst. But as I exhaled, that hurt changed, deepened even further until it was a rage that made my body shake.
“You aren’t speaking tonight?” I asked around the rage. I’d managed to keep my voice calm enough not to show her the emotion, but a hint of vulnerability bled through. I hated it.
“What do you want me to say, Vasile?” she asked, sounding weary, hurt, wounding me as not much else could.
What did I want her to say? What more could I ask of her?
I moved even closer to her, pushed one arm under her, and then laced my fingers together against her soft stomach. I pulled her so close, there was not a space between us, no air, nothing that would keep us separate, my hardening cock, its natural state when she was here, even after the years we’d been together, nestled between her ass cheeks, the heat of her pussy radiating out to touch me, my thighs molded against her, my chest pressed to her back.
There was nowhere we didn’t touch, no way she could move without me. She stiffened and then sighed, but she didn’t pull away. After a moment, I loosened my hands and began to move them against her skin in slow, wide circles.
Though she faced away from me, I saw the struggle on her face, the way she tried to fight against the pull between us. But despite how much she tried, her body softened under my touch, her tight expression relaxing as I began to touch her more passionately.
“Tell me you love me,” I whispered against her ear.
Fawn shivered when my breath brushed her skin and then her body pulled tight when I twisted her nipple. She panted out and, probably unconsciously, pressed against me harder.
“Say it, Fawn,” I repeated, twisting her nipple again.
“Vasile—”
She cut off short and her breath came out in a deep rush when I slammed my cock into her in one vicious thrust. She was wet for me, ready as she always was, and my own breath hitched as her tight, wet pussy sucked me in.
“Say it, Fawn.”
I punctuated the words with a hard thrust of my hips, and she huffed out again, her back arching. She always did this, tried to move away from the pleasure, but my arm locked around her waist kept her in place.
“Say it. Say it,” I repeated, each word accompanied by a hard thrust inside her, stronger and faster until we were both