SEXT

“You love feeling my fingers in your ass, don’t you, my little slut?” He grinned, turned to lick and suck at my neck, and I arched my neck to the side to let him, to give him access to whatever part of me he wanted.

In the shower, I push two fingers into my pussy, rock against the palm of my hand until it grinds against my clit, and lean on the shower wall for support as I finger-fuck myself, remembering Zayne’s possessive growl of pleasure as he pushed his fingers into my ass, claimed every inch of me for his own.

“Fuck, Zayne,” I gasped, and that turned into a louder cry of protest as he pulled those fingers out of me. But the protest didn’t last long, because a moment later, I felt the head of his cock pressed against my entrance, already wrapped in a condom, harder than ever, and doused in a healthy helping of the cool lube.

This time, when he pushed inside me, I couldn’t help crying out loud. He was thicker than his fingers, and harder, the steel at the core of his shaft intense and thick with pressure as he inched his cock into me. He moved slowly, a few centimeters at a time, letting me adjust to his width the whole time. But with each inch deeper he moved, the stretch increased, and so did the pleasure. When his balls touched my pussy lips, and his hips ground into mine and he’d fully entered my ass, I felt fuller than I ever had in my life. I felt stuffed to the brim, ready to burst, speared on his length, and I couldn’t get enough of it. I wriggled back against him, ground my hips into his as I groaned, unable to articulate the pleasure anymore, unable to explain anything, because all I knew was that I wanted more of this, more of him.

“Fuck, you feel amazing, Clove,” he murmured, the character broken. I looked over my shoulder and he kissed me, deep, probing, his tongue exploring my mouth the way his cock explored my ass.

“Take me,” I gasped when we parted, and he did. He slid back out of me, then pushed back in, slow at first, rocking gently against me to let my ass adjust to the sensation, grow used to his cock probing deep inside me. Finally, he worked his way up to fucking my ass fully, and I leaned forward against the carpet, braced on my forearms, my face buried in the rug as I cried out. I was so loud it barely muffled me, but Zayne was just as loud, groaning as he slammed into me, losing control, his hands wrapped tight around my hips as he fucked me so hard I knew I wouldn’t be able to walk straight the next day.

I still couldn’t. If I clenched my ass now, I could feel him inside me, the memory of his cock inside my ass. I did it again, felt that bone-deep ache even as I continued to fuck myself with my fingers, leaning into the hot stream of water.

I come hard, gasping to myself in the shower, letting the pleasure wash through me. I hope on its way through it will wash away some of these memories, stop letting them control me, so I can focus and ask Zayne everything I need to know tonight, instead of just wanting to jump his bones the second I see him again.

I finish and wash myself off, though I still don’t feel clean by the time I climb out of the shower again. I think it will be hard to feel clean again, not for a long time. Not until I can get all of these dirty memories of the weekend out of my head. Which at the moment feels like it might be never. How could I forget the hottest weekend of my life?

I dress in jeans and a blouse—casual but not totally lazy. I still want to look hot. Mostly because I want him to regret what he’s missing out on. But still.

My doorbell rings at 10:02pm. Got to give him that, he’s prompt.

I answer it and freeze on the threshold, stunned by the size of the bouquet he’s holding.

“Zayne…” I start, but he’s already handing it to me. It’s a mixed bouquet, made of white flowers dotted here and there with colorful roses, a mix like I’ve never seen before. It smells amazing, and the moment I accept the vase, my whole apartment seems to brighten with the color of the flowers. Still. That’s just one small gesture.

But I can’t deny that it loosens the tight knot in my chest somewhat.

“Come in,” I call over my shoulder with a sigh as I set the vase down on my kitchen counter. The jerk is winning me over already and I’ll bet he knows it, cocky bastard. I keep my gaze on the flowers as he shuts the door behind him.