She shook beneath me, each way pulsing around my shaft, locking down more and more. I stood back up and she fell down to the table. I used her hips to help me get all the way in, skin to skin each time, watching her ass cheeks jiggle with every slam. “That’s it. Grip it tight like a vice. That’s what you do. It’s how you torment me. Fucking cock tease.”
Sobs shook her, and I continued on. My hips moved on their own, my brain no longer registering anything, but the fierce pleasure and energy that was boiling inside me until it exploded. I buried my cock all the way in, jerking with each stream.
With the last drop emptied inside her, I fell down onto her back. Our breaths were in time, hard and labored as we came down.
“You should stay away from me, Lila. I’m no good for you,” I said. My breath was harsh against her back. I needed her to understand. There was no safety with me. “Run while you can. Run away from me, and don’t look back. I’m not worth your life.”
When I regained some semblance of strength a few minutes later, I stood up. Lila didn’t move, her eyes closed. A panic began to wash over me, but then I watched as her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm.
Passed out.
Another boost to the ego I didn’t need—fuck a woman until she passes out from pleasure.
Pulling out of her was almost torture, and there was come everywhere. Days worth saved up and emptied into her.
Look at that. Our come, sliding out of her freshly fucked pussy.
This is your fault.
You wanted it. Don’t lie.
I can’t want it. This can’t happen again.
Two tastes. There’s no stopping. We’ve never felt this intensity. Ever.
I hated that he was right. The sad fact was that he spoke the truth. I was the one who tried to deny, who forced a separation.
There was no way I was going to leave her like that, so after stuffing my cock back in my pants, I found a washcloth and wet it with warm water before cleaning her up. She was completely out, almost like she hadn’t slept in days. Dead weight in my arms as I picked her up. One arm crossed her waist while the other hung down, her head rolling back and forth on my shoulder as I carried her toward the bedrooms, searching for the master.
Bruises had already begun to form on her pale skin, pink dots from my grip. I gently set her on the bed and pulled the covers out from under her, then draped them across her body.
I couldn’t help but stare at her face. So innocent looking, so vulnerable. Reaching out, I brushed a few strands of hair aside. There was no makeup on her skin, and none was needed. Her hair was a natural blonde, not dyed. She was a natural beauty.
A sigh left me, and I sat on the edge of the bed, head held in my hands.
What am I going to do?
You know what.
I can’t keep doing this.
Yes, we can.
It’s not right. It’s not good for her. I’m not good for her.
But we want to be.
What I want is irrelevant.
No one else would be hurt because of me. I meant those words. I refused to have more pain upon me. I couldn’t handle the weight. Bad enough I was already a crumbled mess that was barely held together.
Standing, I headed back toward her kitchen. She was going to need some water when she woke and, based on the bruises, probably some Aspirin as well.
As I walked through, I noticed how neat her condo was, sterile almost, but it held an unexpected warmth. Much like the feeling I got when my wife and I toured some model homes. There weren’t a lot of knickknacks, but it was lightly decorated.
I poured a glass of water and walked back to her bedroom where I took a look around and found much of the same. There was no medicine in the kitchen, so I walked into her master bathroom. Going through drawers, there was some makeup and various toiletries, all in their place. Finally, I found a drawer with a basket full of bottles.
Prescription bottles outweighed the over-the-counter medications. My expression dropped as I read some of the labels. It wasn’t just the fact she had some of the same medications I was very familiar with, but also the name that appeared on them—Dr. Darren Morgenson.
“Shit.”
How the fuck did I get in such a mess with one of Darren’s patients?
I glanced through the open door, my eyes locked on her sleeping form. Every suspicion I’d had about her and a horrible past was confirmed with a single name. Darren’s practice was specified. He worked with trauma patients and their families.
Placing the bottles back, I opened the Aspirin and shook out two pills, then put it back with the rest before closing the drawer. I set the tablets next to the water. She was still asleep, peaceful even.
“What happened to you?” I asked in a whisper, the backs of my fingers trailing across her cheek.
CHAPTER 11
My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. They couldn’t.
Twice. I’d fucked her twice.
It’d been four years since I touched a woman more than one time, and my wife was the only one for a decade. That was how much Lila had unhinged me.
I never slept with a woman more than once. There was no way I was going to let anyone in, and more than once would imply there was something more. Yet, I’d been inside Lila twice and my dick was hard, dying to be inside her again.
My skin crawled, vibrated with the desire to taste her. To sink my teeth into her skin as my hips flexed my cock deep inside her.
And it fucking pissed me off.
I had to stay away. Never again.
Things I said to her in the chaos, words that would have earned a slap, she reveled in. They weren’t definitions I associated with her, but I wanted her to be a whore for my cock. A slut willing to do anything to have me inside her. Me and nobody else.
Mine.
Every cell in me vibrated, more life coursing through me than there had been in years.
Almost three days down without incident. It was like one of those fucking signs, but instead of three days since the last accident, it was three days since the last fucking.
It hadn’t been without great effort, and I found myself staring at her a lot, trying to figure out just what it was about her that turned me on so much.
Lila was dedicated to her work. She rarely got frustrated, with the exception of visitors. The interruption messed with her flow, along with the inane chatter of the true sluts annoyingly trying to get into my pants every day.
They truly were the definition of sluts in my opinion. In the moment, my dirty mouth would call Lila that, but I wanted her to be only for me. There had never been a time that word even remotely entered my mind when thinking about her outside of those times.
Sobs shook her, and I continued on. My hips moved on their own, my brain no longer registering anything, but the fierce pleasure and energy that was boiling inside me until it exploded. I buried my cock all the way in, jerking with each stream.
With the last drop emptied inside her, I fell down onto her back. Our breaths were in time, hard and labored as we came down.
“You should stay away from me, Lila. I’m no good for you,” I said. My breath was harsh against her back. I needed her to understand. There was no safety with me. “Run while you can. Run away from me, and don’t look back. I’m not worth your life.”
When I regained some semblance of strength a few minutes later, I stood up. Lila didn’t move, her eyes closed. A panic began to wash over me, but then I watched as her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm.
Passed out.
Another boost to the ego I didn’t need—fuck a woman until she passes out from pleasure.
Pulling out of her was almost torture, and there was come everywhere. Days worth saved up and emptied into her.
Look at that. Our come, sliding out of her freshly fucked pussy.
This is your fault.
You wanted it. Don’t lie.
I can’t want it. This can’t happen again.
Two tastes. There’s no stopping. We’ve never felt this intensity. Ever.
I hated that he was right. The sad fact was that he spoke the truth. I was the one who tried to deny, who forced a separation.
There was no way I was going to leave her like that, so after stuffing my cock back in my pants, I found a washcloth and wet it with warm water before cleaning her up. She was completely out, almost like she hadn’t slept in days. Dead weight in my arms as I picked her up. One arm crossed her waist while the other hung down, her head rolling back and forth on my shoulder as I carried her toward the bedrooms, searching for the master.
Bruises had already begun to form on her pale skin, pink dots from my grip. I gently set her on the bed and pulled the covers out from under her, then draped them across her body.
I couldn’t help but stare at her face. So innocent looking, so vulnerable. Reaching out, I brushed a few strands of hair aside. There was no makeup on her skin, and none was needed. Her hair was a natural blonde, not dyed. She was a natural beauty.
A sigh left me, and I sat on the edge of the bed, head held in my hands.
What am I going to do?
You know what.
I can’t keep doing this.
Yes, we can.
It’s not right. It’s not good for her. I’m not good for her.
But we want to be.
What I want is irrelevant.
No one else would be hurt because of me. I meant those words. I refused to have more pain upon me. I couldn’t handle the weight. Bad enough I was already a crumbled mess that was barely held together.
Standing, I headed back toward her kitchen. She was going to need some water when she woke and, based on the bruises, probably some Aspirin as well.
As I walked through, I noticed how neat her condo was, sterile almost, but it held an unexpected warmth. Much like the feeling I got when my wife and I toured some model homes. There weren’t a lot of knickknacks, but it was lightly decorated.
I poured a glass of water and walked back to her bedroom where I took a look around and found much of the same. There was no medicine in the kitchen, so I walked into her master bathroom. Going through drawers, there was some makeup and various toiletries, all in their place. Finally, I found a drawer with a basket full of bottles.
Prescription bottles outweighed the over-the-counter medications. My expression dropped as I read some of the labels. It wasn’t just the fact she had some of the same medications I was very familiar with, but also the name that appeared on them—Dr. Darren Morgenson.
“Shit.”
How the fuck did I get in such a mess with one of Darren’s patients?
I glanced through the open door, my eyes locked on her sleeping form. Every suspicion I’d had about her and a horrible past was confirmed with a single name. Darren’s practice was specified. He worked with trauma patients and their families.
Placing the bottles back, I opened the Aspirin and shook out two pills, then put it back with the rest before closing the drawer. I set the tablets next to the water. She was still asleep, peaceful even.
“What happened to you?” I asked in a whisper, the backs of my fingers trailing across her cheek.
CHAPTER 11
My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. They couldn’t.
Twice. I’d fucked her twice.
It’d been four years since I touched a woman more than one time, and my wife was the only one for a decade. That was how much Lila had unhinged me.
I never slept with a woman more than once. There was no way I was going to let anyone in, and more than once would imply there was something more. Yet, I’d been inside Lila twice and my dick was hard, dying to be inside her again.
My skin crawled, vibrated with the desire to taste her. To sink my teeth into her skin as my hips flexed my cock deep inside her.
And it fucking pissed me off.
I had to stay away. Never again.
Things I said to her in the chaos, words that would have earned a slap, she reveled in. They weren’t definitions I associated with her, but I wanted her to be a whore for my cock. A slut willing to do anything to have me inside her. Me and nobody else.
Mine.
Every cell in me vibrated, more life coursing through me than there had been in years.
Almost three days down without incident. It was like one of those fucking signs, but instead of three days since the last accident, it was three days since the last fucking.
It hadn’t been without great effort, and I found myself staring at her a lot, trying to figure out just what it was about her that turned me on so much.
Lila was dedicated to her work. She rarely got frustrated, with the exception of visitors. The interruption messed with her flow, along with the inane chatter of the true sluts annoyingly trying to get into my pants every day.
They truly were the definition of sluts in my opinion. In the moment, my dirty mouth would call Lila that, but I wanted her to be only for me. There had never been a time that word even remotely entered my mind when thinking about her outside of those times.
