Chapter Seven #3
I shut the journal and reach down to grip the hair that is tickling my breasts.
“Stop,” I tell him as I put the journal to the side.
Immediately, he lifts his head, and as he focuses on my face, I see dark desire smoldering in his deep green eyes.
“Do you even know who you’re with right now?” I ask him.
I’m desperate to know he isn’t thinking of her as he brushes his mouth across my nipples.
He gives me a blistering look intended to make all my doubt instantly disappear, but this time, I hold firm. This time, I need to know.
“Of course, Gemma,” he assures me seductively. He lowers his mouth onto the curve of my breast. “Your breasts—they’re fuller and rounder than hers were.”
I know I should feel disgusted or at least disturbed that he’s kissing me and talking about her. But as he sucks my nipple between his lips, his cheeks hollow out, and I’m reminded of all the beautiful angles of his face Chantel was talking about. Instantly, I’m struck by his sheer attractiveness.
He moves up my body, and he’s suddenly right where he was in the journal—between my thighs.
The only difference is that I’m naked, and he’s clothed—well, except for his open pants.
His eyes are looking down into mine, and I’m finding it hard to make any words come out of my mouth.
That’s when I feel his right hand move down to trace the curve my hip.
“And your hips are curvier. They flare out more, giving you that sexy hourglass figure that men everywhere would beg to touch.”
I can’t help but arch my hips up against the hard cock I can feel straining inside his pants.
“But the question isn’t really if I know who I’m with right now,” he points out as he flexes his hips against mine, letting me feel the full force and impact of his desire. “The question is…do you?”
I think about that for a moment and lift my hands to his hips. I know who I’m with, and I want him in me now. Pushing down his pants, I grip his hard cock in my right hand, lining him up with my greedy pussy.
“I know exactly who I’m with,” I tell him.
I watch as he lowers his head to the side of mine.
“So tell me, Gemma—is it me you’re with, or are you here with me and Chantel?” he asks.
Before I can answer him, he thrusts his cock inside of me.
I can’t help my cry as he pushes his hips forward, and suddenly, he’s back at my ear telling me wicked and depraved things I shouldn’t know.
“This is the same blanket, Gemma. I’m fucking you on the exact same blanket I took her on. How does that make you feel?” he asks as he drags his thick cock in and out of my dripping sex.
I can’t seem to formulate an answer, and he doesn’t seem to care because he keeps up his warped monologue.
“Do you know that every time I sank my cock into her, she arched her back, just like you’re doing? Her eyes—fuck, those beautiful and useless eyes—would stare up at me like I owned the whole fucking world.”
I pant as his moves become faster and harder, almost brutal. He shifts and puts his left hand under my ass, pulling my pelvis up, so he can burrow deeper inside of me. I feel like he’s close to penetrating my very soul as he leans down to bite my bottom lip.
“Does it turn you on—reading and knowing how she felt every time my cock pushed into her? It must, Gemma, because you aren’t even using this smart head of yours anymore. Your arousal is making you careless.”
“What?” I ask. I’m caught up in my own lust as I feel my core flutter around the thickness wedged deep inside of me.
“Your brain—it’s not working, or you’d be wondering or concerned if I’m safe, if you’re safe.”
My eyes snap open to focus on him as he stops moving.
“I’m safe. Now, Gemma…” His voice floats through the tiny amount of space left between us. “Are you? Because I’m not moving until I hear—”
“I’m safe.” I moan, bowing up to him.
He grips my ass, hauling me impossibly closer. “I’m so glad to hear it, because your pussy is a fucking wet dream.” With a hard thrust, he adds, “And every time I mention her name, it squeezes my cock like a fucking fist.”
I close my eyes, ashamed that what he’s saying is right.
It’s true. What the fuck is the matter with me?
I have no answer I can give him or myself, so instead, I focus on his face.
That serious and focused expression looks so fierce as he moves above me and inside of me, stealing something integral from my being with every delicious stroke.
“I think you’re the one getting confused with who’s here,” he explains. “Because I know exactly who I’m inside of.”
Reaching up, he pinches my nipple, and I shout so loudly that I know my voice will be hoarse the next morning.
“Oh, yes, Gemma, shout for me,” he mutters as he leans down, biting the curve of my shoulder and neck as he fucks into me like he’s never going to stop.
I grip his ass in my hands and push myself up to meet each of his tortuous thrusts. Right when I think it’s impossible for my body to hit a second climax, his orgasm slams into me, bathing me in a warmth that is so intoxicating I feel myself fly with him to a second splintering climax.
Several minutes later, I find myself lying in silence on a blanket, the sun shining through the trees. I’m struck with the realization that I’m holding on to a man who, for now, is holding on to me but has still not let go of her.