Fuck, she left. Of course she fucking left. She’d spent nights in the same bed as him and hadn’t made a fucking move. He’d held her captive and tried his hardest to make her need him. Maybe she’d realized his cruel intentions and taken off. Had she gone back to him? God, he’d kill him if she did.

But the second he opened his bedroom door, he saw her figure in his bed. He let out a relieved breath as he shut the door behind him. She was sleeping peacefully on her side with her hands cupped together beneath her chin. Remy threw his leather vest off and then his boots, watching her intensely even though she’d made zero movement.

He climbed into bed behind her. Normal patient Remy was now a tipsy, irrepressible ball of feelings. She hadn’t left. She’d stayed right here. Maybe she did want this. Maybe she could be trusted after all.

He couldn’t help himself. His self-control had weaned significantly after all that alcohol. He lightly stroked her bare arm, feeling her silky soft skin beneath his fingertips. It was electrifying that a simple touch of her skin had given him bolts of pleasure. Imagine more. He rested on his side just behind her and continued to stroke her arm. His face neared the back of her head, taking in the scented raspberry shit she shampooed her hair with. It was to fucking die for.

Tipsy Remy nuzzled his nose until he felt the skin on the back of her neck. Then he trailed it up to her ear, closing his eyes tightly at the warmth she was radiating into his being. This girl.

This.
Fucking.
Girl.

Her slight movement threw off his jive. Her head turned to him, and he could feel her breaths against his face. He opened his eyes and regarded his Birdy. To his surprise, she was wide awake and hardly an inch from his face. Her eyes looked right into his and then at his lips, emanating a vulnerability he couldn’t decipher fast enough. She’d purposely let her guard down for him. Was this her offering herself up to him? Was this permission?

He didn’t want to ask. He just wanted to take.

It seemed so natural moving in for the kiss. Tipsy, pussy-whipped Remy couldn’t help the groan that escaped his mouth the second his lips made contact with hers. They were so soft. So full. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He was falling apart within seconds. He brought a hand to her face, keeping her at level with his mouth so he could continue to taste the finest thing he’d ever touched.

She kissed back, opening her mouth wider to let him in. The second his tongue brushed against hers, he was gone. Absolutely fucking gone.

So this is perfection.

Suddenly Remy understood all that bullshit about love. Who would have guessed that those horrendous romance movies were right? You’d endure the worst kind of evil just to have a taste of this. He felt his heart explode into a million little pieces, and he didn’t give a shit that he was falling hard. In that moment, he was engulfed in a kind of bliss that was pure, uninhibited heaven. The angel beneath him was worth it all. He’d always known it, and now it was solidified.

She wrapped an arm around his neck and pulled him further into her mouth. He didn’t want to stop, even when he needed to come up for air; he was happily drowning in her. He felt her other hand slide down his back and then she was pulling up his shirt.

Fuck. Yes.

He threw it off and grabbed at hers. He gently lifted it over her head, and by then she’d wrapped her legs around his hips. He was rock hard and the sudden friction she was trying to create against her pussy had just about made him come.

Fuck no.

He wouldn’t. He’d never been so undone so shortly into foreplay before. What was she doing to him?

Remy rested over her again, feeling her bare skin against his. He moved his hand up and down her body, stopping repeatedly at her breasts. He wanted nothing more than to tear the bra straight off and lap his tongue against her nipples, but he couldn’t get enough of her mouth. There was something about her kiss; it felt like he was pouring his soul into her and she was sucking him dry and owning him – which was fucked up because he’d always intended to be the possessor. But shit, who cares? He’d gladly be the bitch if she was the master.

Sara pushed his face away from her and harshly brought his mouth to her neck. She was gladly offering it, but for what? Did she want to be marked? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He licked her neck and then sucked fiercely, relishing in the softness of her skin. She moaned loudly and gripped his hair until his scalp burned.

Perfection. He moved back to her mouth, grinding himself against her. Yes, yes, yes. He was going to own this body. He was going to be deep inside that in a few moments time. He was going to hear her scream in pleasure and writhe for more, and he wasn’t going to hold back. He was going to unload within her and make her his forever. He didn’t give a fuck about the consequences, either.

He relished in the sweet taste of her. She was delicious to him. He sucked her bottom lip, lapped his tongue against hers, surrendering to the unbelievable taste of… salt?

What the fuck?

Breathing heavily, he pulled back and looked down at her face.

Tears. Everywhere. Flowing down her face from each eye like two little waterfalls. Why the fuck was she crying?

“Hey,” he whispered soothingly, stroking the tears away from her eyes.

He remained on top of her, but he certainly wasn’t moving, and although he was hard as a boulder below the belt, there was no way he was going to be inside a crying angel. He wasn’t that drunk.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized in embarrassment, lips quivering.

“Hey, hey, don’t be sorry. You got nothin’ to be sorry for, Birdy.” He continued to wipe the tears from her eyes, and then he stiffly climbed off of her. This was possibly the hardest thing he’d ever done. His whole body had shuddered with the need to be fulfilled by her.

This sucked giant elephant ball sacks.

She curled into a ball against his side, and for a moment he didn’t want to be anywhere near her. He didn’t think he’d have the self-control to stop. Any second and he’d be all over her again.

“You’re all I have. Please don’t hate me.” The sob-filled words took him off guard. Hate her? Fuck, what an absurd thing to say.

He wrapped an arm around her and held her hard against him. “I don’t hate you,” he told her firmly. “The last thing I could do is hate you. You’re fuckin’ incredible.”

“I don’t see how I am. I don’t even know why I did that.”