He still hasn’t moved, and I know he’s not going to. If he wanted out of this, he could have gotten up at any time. Still can.
Either way, I’m going to fuck Ella exactly how she wants to be fucked.
I spread her thighs to the edge of the chair. Her chest rises faster, and I slide my hands between her thighs and lean in close. It’s only an illusion that we’re having a private conversation. Damon can hear every word. But I do it anyway. “You can use your safe word at any time.”
Ella gives the tiniest nod of her head. Her breathing is slower and heavier.
“He can see you,” I tell her.
She takes in a quiet gasp, her head tipping back against the chair, and I can feel how much she wants this. Her thighs are already trembling beneath my palms.
It only takes one movement to switch places with her. Pull her out of her seat, take her place, and pull her into my lap. I undo my pants as soon as I’m underneath her, gripping my cock and use my hands on her hips to guide her down. Ella reaches for my shoulders, her cheeks reddened. She lets out a small moan as the head of my cock meets her opening and I pull her down hard.
The gasp she gives me, with her lips parted and her eyes wide, is fucking everything.
Her pussy is wet for me, and the only resistance she offers is that she’s so tight. I curse softly into her ear as she buries her face in my shoulder and rides me. I’m going to keep her moving, keep her fucking me with the rhythm I want. She wants this too. She wants it so much that she can’t relax into my hands. Ella’s hips move faster in my grip. Almost frenzied.
In a quick glance, I note that Damon hasn’t left.
“He’s still looking,” I whisper at the shell of Ella’s ear. “He’s watching while you fuck me. Do you wish you knew how much he could see, jailbird?”
She doesn’t answer me; instead she struggles to say, “I’m going to—” Her pussy clenches, and I know. It happens again and again, the pace picking up. “I’m going to come—”
“Good girl. Come for me.”
Ella’s orgasm is a pretty, shuddering thing, her face hot on my neck and her hands fisted in my shirt.
When she moves to slow down, I stop her. I’ll lift her up and down myself if I have to. “You’re not done, jailbird. Not until I am. Keep going.”
* * *
All’s quietat Ella’s house the next morning, except for the sputtering of a coffee pot. She’s still sleeping when Damon comes in through the back door for his shift.
When I was done with Ella, Damon had left and Silas was in the rec room, his shift having started. I messaged him a number of times, dancing around the obvious.
I’m at the countertop with a cup of coffee in my hand, and when he sees me, he cocks a brow, closing the sliding door with one hand. I wish I could say I didn’t feel the heat of slight embarrassment.
“Morning,” I tell him.
“Morning to you too.” The awkwardness is only slight.
“About last night …” I start and he finishes.
“I figure I won’t address it unless she needs to be reassured that there is no judgment from me?”
I’m slow to nod, considering his expression.
“Her coping mechanisms are,” he says and breathes in, “apparently compatible with yours.” The grin against his cleanly shaven face is humorous. I huff a laugh, picking up the mug to take a drink.
“Apparently so.”
“Do you think she’ll need reassurance?” he questions in a more serious tone.
I consider him, and the situation before answering. “I think she needs more reassurance that it was all right to cry, more so than anything else. I think she needs to know that whatever happened back then, is okay to put in the past.”
Damon nods, pulling a stool out from the counter to sit beside me. “So, listen. I did some research last night on Ella’s father like you asked me to.”
“Did you find anything that could be helpful?”