Brother's Keeper (24 page)

Her mouth finds mine, gentle at first and then insistent and demanding. And I’m desperate to take away the pain of the last many weeks apart. I know I have to give her up tomorrow morning, but I’m powerless to think about tomorrow right now. I’ve been so starved of her that I’ve lost all sense of reason. I want to claim every part of her that has been withheld from me for so long. And I start pulling her clothes from her body vigorously. She matches my insistence as she strips me of my clothes as well, and soon we are naked and alone together once again.

I mount her body and spread her legs wide with my own. I nestle between her legs, feeling her warmth and moisture licking seductively at every spot where I make contact with her pussy. I want to taste her wet folds and take over her pussy with my fingers, but I need her eyes more. I’ve been so harshly punished of her eyes for so long. The windows to her soul she has so openly shared with me in the past have been so devastatingly withheld from me, and I need to see her again. She looks back at me, panting as I take in her eyes. They are desperate and finally alive to me again. I drink in her gaze, finally ending the month-long deprivation. It doesn’t escape my attention that my cock is nestled between the slick wet folds of her sex. Her breath is hitching, and mine is as well. She needs all of me. And God, I need all of her, too. Her eyes are on mine, and without speaking a word she is asking me to submit to her wishes one last time. She’s asking me to give her the one thing I’ve denied her for so long; she’s asking me to love her fully. And I need her to love me just as much. There is no way I can let her go without sharing this with her. It has to be me. It is supposed to be me. And in one instant, my long-held resolve crumbles in defeat.

I take in her eyes one last time and thrust hard to my hilt inside of her virgin entry before even consciously being aware I’ve made the decision to, but I was powerless to deny her the instant she opened up to me again. And as shock and recognition of what I’ve just done sink in, I look to her eyes for reassurance. What I see instead is pain. Oh God, what have I done to her?

*

Pain sears through my core, tearing away at my body as his body invades mine. The fullness is overwhelming—the agony so unexpectedly sharp and intense. He’s searching my eyes with horror etched all over his beautiful face. He starts to leave my body, and I panic. I clutch at his hips trying desperately to keep him—wanting to savor the experience. He stills within me, our heavy breathing the only sound in the room. He clutches my cheeks so tenderly in worry and wonder. He remains buried in me as still as a statue … waiting—ready to pull away at any moment and leave my body forever. He has to belong to me. I could bear this hurt from no other man. He owns it, and I desperately fear the loss of it.

And in fear of his loss, I encourage him further. “Please, don’t stop.” He looks at me in shock as though I’ve struck him across the face. And I plead again. “Please.” I need him, pain and all. And slowly, heat from the permission I’ve just granted him touches his face. His eyes relax and his shoulders release their tension. He starts to move.

The first withdrawal is agonizingly slow, but I know he won’t stay gone from my body for long; the look in his eyes tells me he’s resigned and lusting intensely after this fate. The fight is finally over. He’s given in, and there is nothing left to hold back from me. The second invasion is as slow as his withdrawal—his gaze never leaving mine. The throbbing ache is steady and unrelenting as his cock fills me further and further and stretches me to my limit, and then past it. When he’s deep within me once again, he stops and waits patiently, so patiently, giving me time to adjust. And eventually I do. The next thrust comes faster and with one swift move. And each thrust after becomes more and more demanding. And as his pace quickens, so, too, does my body.

The pain eventually fades to a dull throb as he continues to enter my tight passage and then retreat over and over again. Every jolting thrust of his cock innervates the nerves of my channel and touches me in such a way that my body starts to crave his pounding force. I rise to meet his cock over and over, forcing him to drive deeper into my body—not fearing the intense invasion in the least, though I know it will hurt. My orgasm starts to build incredibly, mixing with the throbbing ache in my groin, and it is something completely new and intense—unlike any climax he’s shown me so far. I know it won’t be long before his thrusts will finish me off completely, and as I finally come, clutching his shoulders close to mine, he continues to take my body over and over until he’s crying out his own release, burying his face in my neck, and clutching me in his arms. He loses himself deep within my body, coming inside me, and emptying himself as his orgasm pulses through me.

He stays buried in my neck as his gasping slows, and he finally meets my eyes again. I can see fear taking over instantly—concern at what he’s done. I want to reassure him, and I reach out to touch his face. His skin is smooth and warm, his face so vulnerable in his panic, his mouth so tender and beckoning. I lean to him, taking his mouth before he can express his worry. At the touch of my lips, his body starts to relax, and he rolls us both to our sides. We kiss endlessly. I want to give him no time to question himself. He made love to me—finally and oh-so-incredibly. The pain felt nearly unbearable, but I was instantly addicted. To imagine we’ve given up so many hours of this for the sake of appropriateness. But even as I revel in our act, I feel him withdrawing in guilt.

With one quick kiss and a stroke to the cheek, Logan rolls away from me, pulling himself from my sore vagina as he goes. I gasp at the sudden loss of his body, instantly wanting him to be back within me. The concern in his eyes tells me he carries a world of regret on his shoulders, and it hurts. I want him to be okay with this as much as I am, but instead he insists on torturing himself. He stands from the bed, letting me soak in his beauty.

His bottom is firm and the cheeks perfectly round. His legs are long, lean, and perfectly proportioned. His shoulders are strong and taper down to his toned waist. He is so beautiful and so damn perfect. It takes my breath away. I’m struck by the sudden remembrance of him from earlier in the year. I used to revel in his presence, imagining what a man such as him must look like naked, what he must taste like, what he must smell like. And all through my imaginings, I could never guess how intimately I would come to know him. I’ve mapped out every inch of his body over these past months, conquering and claiming his body as though it were my own. But as I watch him now, his guilt is palpable, and he is once again distant. I watch him retreat naked and beautiful to the bathroom, my heart dropping inch by inch by inch on the heel of his footsteps.

*

As I stare at my body in the mirror, I struggle against anger at myself and complete satisfaction of finally having experienced her body fully. But what plagues me is what I’ve taken from her. She may not think she cares right now, but I’ve just taken something I can’t give back, and the evidence is all over my still engorged cock. As I wash her blood from my penis, still vacillating between complete repletion and utter despair, she enters. She looks worried and nervous and positively stunning. Catching my attempt at removing the evidence of having taken her so forcefully, she instantly reassures me she’s fine. I offer a weak smile, but the look on her face tells me she isn’t buying it. She starts the bath and returns to me while she waits for the bath to fill. Her touch calms me as she wraps her arms around me, and when the bath is finally full she turns the light off, leaving only the dim bedroom light to filter in through the partially open door. And as we’ve done in the past, we shut out the world and retreat to our own private world of warmth, darkness, and each other.

As she sinks into the bathtub, her body stills as her raw and abused pussy hits the water, reminding me just how sore she must be. I secretly admonish myself for being so rough with her. I gave in pitifully, and with no restraint whatsoever; I took over her body completely. After impaling her so aggressively, I tried to go slow, but she was willing, so very willing, and I soon pushed her to the pace I needed—fast and hard. But she felt amazing. Tighter than I could ever imagine, and she rose to the challenge wantonly. I’ve made love to her—finally and wholly, I’ve had her in every way I’ve wanted and needed. And I want more. I want to own her, and the idea she will someday share this with someone other than me is hard to swallow.

She must and she should move on with her life, but it hurts all the same. Could I rewrite our lives and the directions we are going, I would do so in an instant, but I can’t stand in her way, and my own path has been laid out before me for so long—signed, sealed, and delivered. She is too young and has yet to experience her life and her freedom. She will likely change her mind countless times about everything she holds as truth in this moment; it’s just the way youth works. She’s not ready for forever… even if I am. And I am. I would seal my future with her for the rest of my life if I could. My need for her is that strong. Or is it my love for her that is so strong?

Love. That was never part of the plan. But I love her. There is no doubt nor question in my mind at this point. But that doesn’t help either of us. How could I have let this happen? I was satisfied with my simple boring life and with my simple boring girlfriend before Rowan came along. Then it wasn’t enough anymore; nothing was enough except for her. Now I’ve taken her virginity, which never should have belonged to me. And hard as I try, I can’t regret it. It was the most precious gift she could have given me, and she did so willingly and eagerly.

*

As the water cools with our bodies, Logan helps me from the bath and dries my body. My arousal stirs at his touch even though the throbbing between my legs tries to restrain me. He accompanies me back to bed and then crawls between my legs. He places soft kisses on my thighs and stomach before parting my lips and kissing the swollen and raw folds of skin. His kisses are sweet, patient, not meant to lead anywhere, just to tell me that he understands that I’m in hurting. He watches me carefully, gauging my comfort. And when he’s kissed every painful inch of my sex, he turns off the bedside lamp and pulls me possessively into his body. There he falls into a restless sleep, murmuring and flinching at my slightest movement.

I don’t find any rest either, knowing the alarm clock will plague me for the remainder of the night. I settle in and listen to his deep breathing, hypnotically setting my own breath to match his. He is so perfect in every way—strong, sure, and protective, yet caring and tender. I trust him beyond all measure and have found security and a gentle touch that I no longer knew existed. Having experienced his support and touch, I’ve realized how much this security was missing from my life. It is now all I crave, and it is slipping through my fingers. His life is running its own course. I’m sure it will be amazing; he’s a Harrington, after all. He will be happy, and I hope someday I will find my own happiness. But it is hard to imagine at this moment, a dark and lonely moment, there will be light after Logan. He is so near but slipping away by the second.

As I stroke his cheek he stirs, and I’m overcome by my need to join myself to him again. Come morning, I will lose him and be forced to deal with distance, and worse yet, lasting and permanent absence from him. I must savor every last moment of him I can. And I start stroking his chest, running my fingers through the fine hairs that cover him, and nuzzling his neck. He rouses and pulls me in closer. I kiss his neck and move up to his face. As he clutches my cheeks with his hands and kisses me softly, I know of one certainty: he cares. I mean something to him, and though I can’t guess if it is nearly as significant to him as it is to me, I trust it matters. And he shares my dread of being parted.

My body is still so sore, and his beautiful cock so large and invasive. Yet I can’t let him go without having him again—just once more. I have no idea how to make love to him, but my body, always so desperate for him, will surely figure it out. I raise myself up above him. And as I pull myself to straddle him, his hands clutch my hips and stay my movement. I plead one last time for what I need. And he gives in … one last time.

*

As her waiting pussy makes first contact with the engorged head of my penis, the sharp inhale of her breath tells me she’s hurting but determined. She slides down my length, failing to restrain her cries as the pain tears through her. I fight the urge to push her off of me and save her any further hurt. She wants this, and I understand why. She takes all of me until she is sitting squarely and firmly against my hips. She stays still for some time waiting for her body to adjust to me. And when she is ready, she slowly begins to make love to me—slowly and sweetly. I hold her body tight to my chest with one hand on her back and clutch her face close to mine with the other. And as she begins to slowly move along the shaft of my cock, I give her the only thing I have left to give her.

I whisper every word she needs to hear and I need to say. I tell her how beautiful she is. I tell her she amazes me. I make sure she knows she is the most precious person in the world to me. I make sure she understands what losing her means to me and how impossible it is to imagine my life without her. She continues to make love to me slowly and surely as I murmur in her ear, clutching her body close to mine as she pushes her pelvis down against my own. I whisper on a hushed breath everything I want her to keep and take with her. Her silent tears drop to my cheek as she rocks our bodies. I hold nothing back from her except the three words that are simply too much for me to say and will bring her nothing but grief. I pray she knows those words even though I can’t give them to her.

We stay firmly together, moving together while her tears touch my skin and I struggle to restrain my own. And when everything I have to tell her has been said, she gives me my release. For the second time this evening, I empty myself deep within her body, wanting to possess her in that incredibly intimate, and quite frankly, inappropriate way. I want her to feel my cum within her body, and I want to leave my seed in her, like some territorial animal. I have no right to be so careless with her body, but it’s too late. As my pulsing orgasm subsides, she takes her own. This moment is quieter, more intimate, and more precious than any other moment I’ve spent with her.