Don't Tell (Don't 1)

It was blinding as he stretched around me, pushing deep inside me.

Quickly, he picked up my standing leg and slammed me against the front door, sending his cock deeper.

“Oh God, Va

ughn.”

His mouth covered mine, silencing my cries of pleasure. He held my lower back and I knew there was no way this strong man would drop me. Slowly, I let go of the hold I had on his neck and let my hands float overhead, feeling the passion of each of his thrusts.

“Fuck,” he growled with a soft whisper. “I’m going to come hard.”

I whimpered. My head rolled to the side, my arms free. My eyes closed, feeling the intensity of our bodies sealed and heated.

He pumped in and out of me until I knew his orgasm had taken him. He bit my shoulder, clamping his teeth into my soft skin while he pulsed inside me. His body rigid and still. The sting of the bite turned to a tender kiss. He pressed his forehead to mine.

“Shit, Emily.”

I exhaled. “I can’t feel my legs.”

He gently placed my feet on the floor, retrieved his pants from his ankles, and handed me my panties. He leaned over again to get the keys that had spilled out of my purse.

“We can go inside now?” I asked.

“We can.” He slapped me on the ass and I giggled.

I had never done anything so explosively impulsive. What if someone had heard us? What if on the way to work I ran into one of the neighbors who knew I had sex in the hallway?

I let us into the apartment, tossing my purse on the couch. I walked to the kitchen to pour us both glasses of water. Vaughn peeled the clothes from his body and walked into the bedroom as if he had always lived here.

I followed him and watched as he lifted the comforter and crawled into my bed naked. I blinked.

He patted my side of the bed. “Coming?”

I nodded. I slid the dress off my body and moved in next to him. He brought me into his arms and against the hard planes of his chest. He kissed the back of my head and within minutes had fallen asleep.

I stared at the ceiling in disbelief. His hands were wrapped against my bare skin as he fell into a steady rhythm of breathing. I inhaled deeply and let myself relax. I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

12

I flipped to the next open page in my journal. I looked at the last date and realized it had been two weeks since I had written. I leaned into the pile of pillows on my bed. I had a night to myself.

Vaughn said his business trip would be short. It was an overnight.

I had papers to grade. I had cases to study. I needed to submit a report to Max. And all I could think about was the cold shallow spot in my bed. I had turned to my journal, thinking I could focus on something other than how much I missed him. In only a few short weeks he had become a constant craving.

I kicked the covers in frustration, and marched to the kitchen to pour a glass of wine.

The dishes from last night’s dinner were stacked on the counter. I closed my eyes, remembering how Vaughn had kept me from putting them away. The chills ran up my arm and down my spine.

That’s what I should write about. How Vaughn had infected me with some kind of sexual intoxication. I was a different woman than the one who had moved to D.C.

It wasn’t that the boxes were unpacked and all my clothes hung in the closet. Or that I knew my way around the Metro and campus. Those things had come with time. Each day I walked through my new life, they became a part of it.

I should write about how something tugged and pulled me toward Vaughn. How I could look at him and feel the current running between us. It defied logic. He had awakened me. Brought happiness when everything else was muddled and gray.

I didn’t know how he’d done it. I had dated other men I knew more about than Vaughn. It seemed by the third date I had a complete history on their favorite sports teams, who they voted for the first time, and every place they had gone on summer vacation as a kid. They weren’t afraid to hand over their biographies. They were scared to death to hand over themselves. The distance they kept wasn’t in a list of personal accomplishments or sharing every opinion that occurred to them. The distance came from under their skin. From time they could give. From fear that feelings for me would cripple their lives.

The irony was that Vaughn was the opposite side of the coin. I knew him better than any man who had been in my bed.