We were both fucking animals, to be honest. Sometimes we grunted like rooting pigs — I’m pretty sure one or both of us squealed at some point — but I’d never been so consumed by another human being.
“So fucking perfect,” Gage ground out as he threw my legs over his shoulders, grinding into me with each thrust. “Fuck Mari…never enough…”
That last part, said on the tail end of a groan was the hottest thing I’d ever heard. To know that I made him insatiable…it was the most intense aphrodisiac I’d ever experienced.
“Am I yours?,” I asked, clenching my muscles to squeeze his cock without mercy. He moaned and nearly lost his rhythm but he recovered with a crooked, hungry grin as he towered over me. I met his stare with a bold one of my own, daring him to push my limits. “Or maybe you like to share…is it okay for someone else to fuck me, baby?”
“No,” he growled, the menacing little sound sending wild tendrils of excitement chasing my nerves.
“Then prove it,” I countered with a breathless smirk that I knew would drive him crazy.
I wasn’t wrong.
“You’re a sassy little bitch, aren’t you?” he said, taking the unspoken invitation. A tiny thrill arced through me as he flipped me to my belly. I clutched the bedding, holding my breath. I gasped as the sharp whack of his hand across my ass stung with immediate warmth. “Have you forgotten, baby? This ass is mine…everything you are, belongs to me.”
I closed my eyes and lifted my ass. I knew what he was going to do and I was ready. I was prepared for the pain of being fucked in the ass by that monster cock because it was Gage.
I wanted him to know I was all in. I would show him by taking whatever he chose to do to me.
Save your judgement…this was between me and Gage.
The head of Gage’s cock slid through my pussy juices, slicking the way. I was already sloppy wet. The anticipation of splitting apart on his cock…made me drip even more. “Do it, baby,” I encouraged, squeezing the bed sheets.
I expected brutality but Gage was gentle as he fed his cock to my ass, pushing tenderly through my virgin hole, waiting for my body to adjust to his size. “Oh God, Mari,” his cry of pure pleasure added to my own. “Jesus fucking Christ…”
His slow, easy thrusts rocked my body and there was no pain at all. I found my clit and rubbed the aching nub as he fucked my ass and all too soon I was cumming again. The pressure in my ass, the new sensation of being fucked like this…I was gripped by an entirely different orgasm as it ripped through me without mercy.
I cried out, hoarse from breathing hard, unable to form coherent thought as wave after wave crashed over me without end. I may have babbled nonsense — I don’t know, I lost all sense of time and reason — and I was only dimly aware of Gage cumming shortly after me.
He collapsed beside me, his softening cock leaking with the tiny pulses of his own orgasm as we both struggled to recover.
After, the night blanketing us, our breath shallow, we laid there for a long moment, silent.
There was that shift again…that feeling that we had dropped to another level, though the gears were rusty and both of us were unsure of our footing on this new terrain.
I knew he felt it, too. Now was the time to get him to see that I wasn’t going to hurt him.
I wanted to know what was eating him alive. I sensed he needed to vent, to excise the rot inside his soul but if he kept nurturing the pain, it would never heal.
Could I convince him that he could trust me with his secrets?
The dark felt safe somehow. Maybe he would feel the same.
“What happened to you, Gage?” I asked softly, stroking his hair as he settled against the pillow of my breast, his arm curling around my waist. “Why won’t you let yourself be happy?”
“Somethings just aren’t meant to be,” he answered, fading fast.
I shook him gently. “Gage?”
“Hmmm?”
“You can trust me,” I told him quietly. “I hope you know that.”
“You aren’t the problem, baby,” Gage replied with a mild slur. “You shouldn’t trust me.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m fucking rotten inside and you’re not. I’ll just ruin you. I gotta stay away…but I can’t seem to let go. Jesus, I know but I can’t.”
“I don’t want you to go,” I protested, wanting to shake the stubbornness out of him. I want you to stay, goddamnit.
“You have no idea what you’re getting into,” Gage said with a sigh as he rolled away from me. “Go to sleep, Mari.”
But I wasn’t tired.
I wanted to unravel this stupid mystery but Gage was already lightly snoring, dead to the world.
I stared at his back, already well-familiar with every contour on his body, the way his skin felt beneath my fingertips, how his muscles tensed when he was about to cum…I knew this man physically but he wouldn’t let me into that inner sanctum that he guarded like a fucking junk yard dog.
Logic told me, let him go. Holding onto someone who didn’t want to be held was like gripping razor wire in a game of tug-of-war. But my heart stuttered with anguish at the thought of watching him leave without a fight.
He needs me, I told myself.
No, he needs a fucking therapist, a different voice cautioned, which is NOT you.
Solid advice, Inner Voice of Smarts. Too bad I never listened.
18
He was gone.
I awoke to an empty bed and sore muscles. I tried not to let his disappearance hurt too deeply but it did. Booty calls did not end up in sleep-overs. If he hadn’t been so drunk, he would’ve left before I could get him into bed.
Maybe it was my fault for over-estimating my worth.
But even as I tried to counsel myself, I knew it was all bullshit. Gage loved me. I could feel it in his reverent, possessive touch, as if I were the most treasured piece of glass that’d been made just for him.
That kind of inadvertent reveal was hard to fake but it was apparently really easy to run from.
I winced as I climbed from the bed, desperately needing a shower. I didn’t smell like a freshly picked peach, that was for sure.
I laughed at my own thought and started the shower, sitting on the toilet while I waited for the water to heat. Miss Switch walked in, as she normally did when I was on the toilet and after, I’d petted her nicely, she repaid me by biting my exposed thigh.
“Ouch, you little shit,” I said, glaring. “Do you have to bite me every time?”
She meowed in response as if to say, “Of course, it’s our thing” then walked out, flicking her tail in goodbye.
“I think I’ve figured out my dysfunction…I crave abuse!” I stated wryly because there was too much truth in my own statement. “Jesus…maybe I’m the one who needs the therapist.”
I showered and went to the kitchen for my coffee only to find coffee was made for me, waiting in the pot.
Don’t get all mushy, I told myself. So what if he made you coffee before bailing? Big deal. But it was a big deal…at least it was to me.
I fought the genuinely happy smile and poured a cup.
Maybe he’d surprise me and show up tonight. A sudden thought came to me…maybe that would be our thing…he would visit me at night like Batman or something.
Billionaire businessman by day, happy hermit sex god by night.
That’s stupid.
I exhaled and agreed but I still clung to the hope that I would see him tonight.
And, operating on that hope, I cleaned my apartment, ran to the store to get groceries so I could have dinner ready, and spent extra time on my downstairs area so I was ready for action when he arrived.
But by that evening, as I sat by myself with Miss Switch, the emptiness of my clean apartment mocking me and my efforts, I realized as I blew out the candles I’d lit for ambience, he wasn’t coming.
And he didn’t come the next night either.
Or the next.
Or the
fucking next.
By the end of the week of no-shows, I had to admit that I’d just been a booty call and he wasn’t interested in pursuing anything more.
Hurt turned to white-hot anger.
What a fucking pussy.
First sign of a connection with another human being and he runs like a scared kid. Well, fuck him. I didn’t need his bullshit.
But even as I held onto my righteous fury, I couldn’t stop the tears squeezing from my broken heart.
Yeah, I said it.
A broken heart.
I’d fallen for the asshole. Hook, line and sinker. I knew it was deeper than infatuation, more than simple lust.
I wanted to ease his pain and soothe his wounds. I wanted to watch dumb television shows together and debate over which character was better or worse than the other.
I wanted to fall asleep beside him and wake up in his arms.
I wanted to see his dirty t-shirts draped over the bed and his jeans lying on the floor.