*Isabella's POV*
"Speak to me in your love language, I just need you. I need my sweetheart," he said.
The words hung in the air, heavy and raw. I knew this fucking moment would come. I'd been dreading it, trying to sidestep it as much as I could with teasing and shitty romance novels. I didn't want to make love with them anymore, not with either of them. I knew now that the other one was feeling it, every fucking touch, every goddamn kiss, and I was so done hurting them. For once in my selfish, messed-up life, I wanted to do the right thing. But how could I? How the fuck could I when he looked at me like that? I wanted Jacob like crazy, a deep, physical ache that had been simmering under my skin for weeks. And he's been through so much this past week. He was shot, for fuck's sake. I knew he needed me, and I... I...
The conflict inside me started becoming a blur, when his mouth found mine.
He kissed me gently, so fucking gently, lovingly, with so much longing it took my breath away. It wasn't a demanding kiss or a playful one; it was a plea. His kisses were something else. He could go from a sweet, caring kiss on the forehead that made you feel safe to this panty-dropping, soul-burning kiss that made you forget your own name. You never knew with Jacob. One minute you're fully clothed, and the next, their clothes are on the floor, and you're naked like I am right now.
I gave in to the temptation. I let the wave of desire crash over me, washing away the guilt and the resolve and the fucking stupid, plan I'd made on that plane. I forgot about our earlier connection, about Damien, about everything. There was only him, his mouth on mine, his hands on my skin. And for now, that was all that mattered.
His mouth was on mine, and the world just... fucking stopped. The gentle, pleading kiss from before was gone, replaced by a deep, hungry claiming that stole the air from my lungs and every coherent thought from my head. His tongue swept against mine, a dominant, possessive stroke that left no room for doubt. He wanted me. All of me.
My hands, which had been resting hesitantly on his chest, slid up, my fingers tangling in the soft hair at the base of his neck. I pulled him closer, needing more, needing to erase the distance, the fear, the fucking week of hell we'd just endured.
He pulled back suddenly, his breathing ragged, his eyes dark and burning with an intensity that made my pussy clench in anticipation. "Fuck, sweetheart," he breathed, his voice a raw, strained sound. He reached over to the bedside table, his movements clumsy with his one good arm. He yanked open the drawer and fumbled inside for a second before pulling out a foil packet. With a frustrated grunt, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his sweatpants, shoving them, along with his boxers, down his hips. His cock sprang free, hard and thick, sticking out from his body, a testament to his desire.
He ripped the packet open with his teeth and expertly rolled the condom onto his dick with his one good hand, then he lay back against the pillows, his chest heaving, his injured arm resting carefully by his side. He looked up at me, his eyes a mix of raw lust and something else, something softer, more vulnerable.
"Ride me, sweetheart," he said, his voice a low, commanding whisper. "Show me how much you missed me."
A shiver ran through me, a full-body tremor of need. I swung my leg over his hips, straddling him, my body buzzing under his intense gaze. I reached down, wrapping my hand around his hard dick and guided him to my pussy, teasing him for a moment, rubbing the head of his dick against my slick, swollen folds.
Then, slowly, I sank down onto him, taking him inch by inch. A long, low moan escaped my lips as he stretched me, filled me completely. It felt fucking incredible. I braced my hands on his chest, my head falling back as I took a moment to adjust to the overwhelming sensation of him inside me.
His good hand came up to cup my breast, his thumb brushing over my already-hard nipple, sending a jolt of electricity straight to my core. I started to move, a slow, rocking rhythm, lifting my hips and sliding back down his dick. Each movement was deliberate, a slow, torturous drag of his cock against my inner walls.
"Fuck, yes," he groaned, his eyes locked on where we were joined. "Just like that."
His other hand, the one that had been resting by his side, came to my hip, his fingers digging into my flesh. He started to guide me, setting a faster, more demanding pace. He pulled me down harder, forcing me to take him deeper, his hips bucking up to meet mine. The room was filled with the sound of our ragged breaths and the slap of skin against skin.
The pressure built inside me, a tight, twisted knot of pleasure that grew tighter with each powerful thrust. He squeezed my breast, his fingers pinching my nipples, sending waves of pleasure coursing through me. I was completely lost, a mindless, squirming mess of sensation, chasing the release that was just out of reach.
"Cum for me, sweetheart," he commanded, his voice a low growl. "I want to feel you cum all over my cock."
That was it. That was all it took. The combination of his words and the relentless rhythm sent me flying over the edge. My orgasm shattered through me, an all-consuming wave of ecstasy that left me screaming his name, my body convulsing around him. My pussy clenched and pulsed, milking his dick as I rode out the intense pleasure.
With a final, husky groan, he followed me over the cliff. He thrust up into me one last time, his body shuddering as he found his own release, emptying himself into the condom.
I collapsed onto his chest, my body boneless and trembling, my heart hammering against his. We lay there for a long moment, a tangled, sweaty mess of limbs, our breathing slowly returning to normal. The only sound in the room was our ragged gasps and the frantic beating of our two hearts, finally beating as one.