When I Was Yours

Pushing up, I get to my feet. I need inside her now. And I don’t intend on taking her gently.

I’m going to fuck her hard. I’m going to punish her for leaving me. I want to make it so that all she remembers, all she knows, after I’ve finished with her is me and how good my cock felt inside her.

Loosening my tie with purpose, I remove it, tossing it to the floor. I open the top few buttons on my shirt, then, I reach behind, grab hold of my shirt, and tug it over my head. I let it join my tie on the floor.

I see Evie’s body still, and when I look at her, her eyes are wide and staring straight at my chest.

And I know I’m fucked.

My tattoo. I didn’t even think about it.

“You-you…had a tattoo done?” Her voice shakes.

I never had any tattoos when we were together. But I know that’s not what’s caught her attention or making her voice tremble. It’s what the tattoo says, what it represents.

In scripture, across the center of my chest, right over my heart, are the words,

AND FOR THAT WONDROUS BRIEF MOMENT IN TIME, SHE WAS MINE, AND I WAS HERS.

Directly beneath are the letters E and A, our initials, entwined.

It’s a play on the words we both had inscribed on our wedding rings.

The tattoo wasn’t done out of bitterness. It was done because of loss and pain. I was hurting. I needed something to remind me of her, of us, aside from the physical reminders I have at the beach house. I wanted something of Evie with me all of the time.

I never regretted having it done, not once.

Not until this moment.

Evie seeing it causes all kinds of wounds to open up inside of me.

I feel exposed, vulnerable, like my heart is lying there, bleeding, at her feet.

I steel myself against the agony.

But then she touches me, and I have to fight to stop myself from falling apart.

Her fingertips trace over my ink, over the words that scream my feelings for her.

My heart is racing. Her touch burns. I close my eyes against the pain.

“Adam?”

I open my eyes. Hers are filled with emotion and need.

And my desire for her blows up like a grenade hitting pavement.

I kiss her hard without restraint or reserve.

I need to be inside her.

I rip open my pants and shove them and my boxers down over my hips.

“Are you on birth control?” I ask roughly.

“Yes.”

“I’m clean,” I tell her. “I get regular checks.”

I see a flash of something in her eyes, but it’s gone before I can figure out what it is.

“I’m…clean, too,” she says on a whisper.

I lock eyes with her. I’m fighting against the thought of any other man touching her, fucking her.

I grit my teeth.

I need to mark her as mine again.

My hands go under her thighs. I lift her, her back sliding up the wall, and I slam straight inside her.

She cries out.

“Fuck,” I hiss, pressing my forehead to hers.

She’s so tight. It’s like fucking her for the first time again.

“Jesus. You’re really tight, Evie.”

Her body tenses around me, and she closes her eyes. “Just fuck me, Adam, please.”

That, I can do.

Taking her mouth again, I claim her with my tongue and my cock.

I fuck her madly and desperately, driving her against the wall with each hard thrust I give.

The feel of her tight wet warmth surrounding me, her scent, her soft skin, just her…it’s too much, sending me to the brink of madness.

I can’t see straight. All I can see is Evie.

All I need is her.

I have her. I’m buried deep inside her, and even this doesn’t feel like enough.

She sinks her nails into my back, scratching across my skin, moaning my name into my mouth, and I nearly explode. I know I’m not going to last much longer. I’m surprised I’ve managed this long.

“Evie…” I huff against her lips. “Tell me you’re close. I can’t hold off much longer, and I need you to come with me.”

It was always that way with her. I always needed her orgasm with mine. Her pussy squeezing my dick, making me come so fucking hard—there was nothing like it.

“I’m close,” she pants. “Just keep…doing…that—ah, fuck, Adam. That’s it…I’m coming!”

She buries her scream in my shoulder by sinking her teeth into my skin, and I blow apart, coming harder than I can ever remember coming, even with her.

I’m literally seeing stars. My head is spinning. My legs feel like jelly.

I press my head against the wall, breathing hard.

Evie’s panting against me, trying to catch her breath.

As our breathing slows, the sexual fog lifts, and reality seeps back in.

I just had sex with Evie.

A multitude of thoughts scream at me. Emotions burn in my chest.

I was expecting regret to come first, but surprisingly, it hasn’t made an appearance yet.

I guess having her here in my arms after all these years, is what’s keeping the regret at bay.

And the feel of my cock still inside her makes me want to fuck her again.

I can’t fuck her again.

Forcing my head up, I look at her face.

Her eyes look moist, her expression pained, and my first thought is that I hurt her. I was pretty rough.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No.” She moves her eyes to mine.

We’re staring at one another, and I have no clue what to say or do, what my next move should be.

I know what I want to do, I want to take her mouth again and kiss her until I can’t breathe.

Again, not a good idea, Gunner.

This is the first time I’m stuck on what to do or say when I’ve just screwed a woman. Usually, I’m pulling out and looking for my exit by now.

Only, she’s not just a woman.

She’s Evie.

The only woman I’ve ever loved.

The woman I married.

The woman who broke my heart.

That thought sobers me. I pull out of her, lowering her to her feet, and I see her wince.

“Are you sure I didn’t hurt you?”

“No, I’m fine,” she says, not meeting my eyes.

Moving away from her, putting some distance between us, I pull up my boxers and pants, fastening them.

By the time I’ve turned back to her, Evie’s already got her T-shirt on and is pulling on her panties.

The air is tense and uncomfortable. That’s probably my fault.

I’ve distanced myself from her, physically and emotionally. I feel so confused right now. I don’t know what to do or say.

Evie pulls on her shorts, and she’s dressed.

I’ve never seen her dress that quickly before. It actually pisses me off. It’s like she can’t wait to get her clothes on and get away from me.

I have to grit my teeth to stop from saying something. Really, what would be the point? And it’s not like I’m exactly helping the situation, standing here like a fucking mute.

“So…that happened.” She’s struggling to look at me, her hands twisting in front of her.

Her teeth bite her lower lip so hard that I’m surprised it isn’t bleeding.

“It did.” My voice is cold. I know it is because that’s the intention.