Shane (Damage Control 4)

You. You’re fucking real. Never wanted anyone so much, never craved anyone’s presence so hard.

Stay.

“Always try to ground yourself in the now,” she puts my hand on her warm cheek, and I harden more. At this stage, anything she does turns me on. “Feel your clothes, your surroundings, tell yourself you’re safe. And when you feel it coming anyway, call me. Like you did today. I’ll come.”

“You’ll come,” I repeat, and fuck, the word makes me cock twitch.

My hard-on is throbbing, caught between our bodies. I gasp when she shifts, straddling me, steadying herself with her hands on my shoulders. I was close to coming before my mind sidetracked me—and now it’s touch and go, my dick hot and aching and pulsing like a heart.

Mind-control. Deep breaths.

But my mind is still out of whack, and my body wants.

“Want you.” I grab her face in my hands. “Fucking need you.”

“So what are you waiting for?” She rocks against me, grinding against my dick, and I’m gonna lose it, come all over her. “Want to feel you come inside me.”

Fuck, the things she says.

Then she puts her hand on my cock and my vision goes white.

She lifts up on her knees, pulls her green, soaked panties to the side and guides me back inside her. Back home. I sink into her, my breath catching on a moan.

“Hold on to me,” she says, taking my hands and placing them on her waist. “Let me.”

I probably should tell her I’m about to shoot my load whether she moves or not, the pressure in my balls off the charts, but then she does move, and she has me moaning like a porno star.

She lifts her hips, drops back on my cock, twists just a little, bears back down, her inner muscles fluttering around me, sucking me in, and… oh shit.

My balls tighten painfully, and my dick jerks. I hold on tightly to her waist, groaning, trying to say her name and failing as heat pounds at the base of my cock, scorching my balls, shooting up. My stomach clenches so hard I almost double over, and then I’m coming in wrenching spasms, each one shaking me like a quake.

Holy fucking shit. What was that?

Still shaking, my dick still pulsing, I press my face into her fabric-covered tits. They’re soft. And I’m spent. I don’t wanna move again, ever.

Her hands come to rest on my head, a warm weight. She feels so good.

God, I don’t ever want her to let go.

***

I wake up at some undefined pre-dawn hour, nightmare fragments clinging to my lashes as I stumble out of bed. With a glance at Cassie’s faint form as she rolls over to claim the warm spot I left behind, I stumble to the bathroom. After taking a leak and splashing cold water on my face, I head into the dark living room.

The weight on my chest is still there.

Standing at the window, the streetlights illuminating the avenue below, I snap the rubber band against the skin of my wrist. The light sting feels good, so I do it again.

This is real. This.

I reach up for the pendant, close my fingers around it, feel its edges.

Why did someone throw a matchbox with cinnamon gum in it at me? Why does the thought of returning to the construction site frighten me?

What if Cassie is right? What if a therapist could help me?

With a sigh, I grab my drawing pad and sit cross-legged on the sofa. I click the lamp on the side table on and bend over the paper.

Maybe I should talk to Seth about what happened today. Even if only to hear him tell me I’m being paranoid. That the gum is obviously a fucking coincidence. Christoph and Marco are still in prison. They aren’t coming out any time soon.