Find Me (The Found Duet #2)(47)
Author: Laurelin Paige

But it was the words that truly brought me closer to release. The intimate, honest words he was drawing from me. More fell from my mouth, raw and unshaped. “Like you belong here. With me. Like we belong together.”

His eyes definitely sparked. “That’s it, Gwen.” He pulled my legs in, keeping them bent, and wrapped his arms around them so that his hands could dig into my ass while he rammed into me with revitalized ferocity. “We belong together. We’ve always belonged together.”

The new position paired with his driving pace sent me over the edge. My body went rigid and my eyes slammed shut. Sensation roared through my body—my limbs tingled and my chest expanded and my pussy clenched and vibrated with intensity, screaming in ecstasy. On the underside of my lids, I saw rainbow streaks of light. My whole face contorted as I sang out with a long guttural sound that I didn’t recognize as coming from me. It felt like crying, but without tears, my body shaking as though sobbing, my throat opening with the long-needed release. It was wonderful and painful and cathartic, my entire being letting out so many emotions I’d kept buried.

“Fuck, Gwen. Yes. Like that, yes.” JC chased his own orgasm, spurred on by the sight of me, by my sounds, and I realized in that moment what this really was. Realized that this was his reclaiming of my body and soul. He’d demanded it before he set me free. Demanded my acceptance of his ownership over me.

And something else—I couldn’t explain how or why I knew this—but I was certain that at least a part of him resented me as much as I resented him.

That final realization was punctuated with his climax. He ground against me, jabbing into my cunt, and groaning as he came.

His arms flew up to embrace me as soon as he finished, and we sat like that, sweaty and spent, finding our breath, calming down. Me slumped on his shoulder while he held me.

My head was quiet in that moment. Every emotion had been driven out by my lust, and now, with that sated as well, I felt only peace.

JC broke the tranquility when he pulled out of me. He took a step back and put his hands on his sides to study me.

The separation jarred me from my serene state of nothingness, and rapidly, feeling crept back over me like a cluster of spiders emerging from their cocoon. Doubt and uncertainty layered in on top of frustration and irritation. Envy came next. Then bitterness. The emotions choked and strangled, and I didn’t want to face any of them. I wanted to be calm and blissful again. Or, at the very least, numb.

That, I could achieve. I was good at being numb. At being ice.

Unable to meet JC’s eyes, I jumped to the ground and found my clothes. I pulled them on, not bothering to clean up, wanting only to be covered and no longer exposed. Needing further distraction, I bent to the ground and began picking up the mail that had fallen during our manic interlude.

“What are you doing?” JC asked softly.

I didn’t look at him. “Cleaning.”

“No. You’re shutting down.”

I winced at his ability to read me so easily. It made me feel more vulnerable than my nakedness had. Just breathe, I told myself. Breathe and let him in.

But I didn’t breathe. Instead, I tried to distance myself further. Grabbing the flowers from the floor, I headed to the kitchen. “I’m just cleaning,” I protested sharply.

He followed me. “You’re not. You’re shutting me out.” He was right behind me now, his body pulsing with warmth that threatened to break past my cold exterior.

I pulled a vase from the cabinet and set it in the sink to begin filling it with water, hating my behavior, unable to change it.

JC reached around me and turned off the faucet before the vase was full. He turned me around forcefully and took my hands in his. “Don’t do this, Gwen. Talk to me.”

My instinct was to pull away. But the jolt of heat that seared through me at his touch was too intoxicating. I wanted more of it. I wanted more of him, and, as Ben had implied earlier, I wouldn’t get that if I kept myself closed off.

I took a deep breath in and let it out. “You’re right,” I admitted, my attention on the waist of his pants. He’d put himself away, but his buckle and snap were still open. “I don’t mean to shut down, but I can’t help it. I’m telling myself not to and still here I am closing off. I can feel it, but I don’t know how to stop it.”

It felt better just to say that. My shoulders relaxed, and I took in another deep breath.

JC loosely shook my arms. “You’re stopping it like this. By talking to me. We can do this. We’re just out of practice.”

I glanced up at him. Yes, I was out of practice. The walls I’d rebuilt after he left were fragile and likely easy to topple down, but I didn’t remember how.