34. DIANA #3
He stops, and I glance over my shoulder to see him standing, his lips glistening as he sucks my juices off his fingers.
“I love the way you taste. I loved it that first night, and I love it more now, knowing it’s you.
” He reaches between my legs and teases my clit.
“And this here, fuck, it’s perfect. So swollen and desperate to come. ”
I moan as my arousal unspools.
Shifting his hand, he thrusts his fingers inside from behind, shunting me forward so my forearms drop to the island. “I’m going to fuck you like this, fast and hard. Scream if you need to. Got it?”
I nod and murmur, “Yes, sir.”
“Good girl.”
Behind me, I hear the crinkle of a condom wrapper, making me wonder if he had it on him, just in case. Or maybe when he found me here in the kitchen he was on his way to my bedroom, to knock on the door and ask to fuck me in my bed. The idea sends a visceral pulse through me.
“I’m on the pill.” The crinkle stops, and he’s so still and silent that if it weren’t for his fingers deep inside me, I’d wonder if I was alone. “You can take me bare.” He still doesn’t move, so I continue. “I want to feel you inside me. No barriers.”
He groans and tosses the packet to the floor, where it falls next to my top. He withdraws his fingers, and I hear him undo his trousers. Nudging my legs apart with his thigh, he closes in, nestling his dick between my legs, easing it through my lips, coating it in my wetness.
More. I need more.
His crown breaches my entrance, cradled right there, not quite where I want it. I shift back, trying to swallow him inside me. “Stop teasing me,” I murmur.
“Hard and fast,” he whispers, the barest hint of amusement in his tone.
Before I can take another breath, he thrusts in, balls deep, jerking my body forward against the island until my breasts are hard against the cool surface.
Gripping my hips, he pistons deep. It’s ruthless, almost violent, and feels like he’s punishing me, using me; he might not have spanked me, but he’s fucking me like he’s angry, and it’s so, so good.
An orgasm blooms, spreading with an intensity I’ve never known.
“Oh, God,” I moan, and his hand slaps over my mouth, the other still on my hip.
“Scream,” he hisses.
Screaming into his hand, I come undone, breaking apart and seeing stars as he pounds into me. The orgasm sweeps me away into a blissful reality, where I no longer care that I’ve lied to my best friend, and I’m letting her father take me from behind like a whore he’s paid for.
The sound of his body slamming into mine is loud enough to wake the dead, and the breaths that shunt from our lungs seem almost as loud as my muffled scream.
He loses his rhythm and falls forwards, clasping me around the waist as he spills into me, breathing raggedly against my ear. His dick pulses again and again until he’s empty, and he rests on top of me, our chests billowing from the exertion.
For a few moments, it’s just us, our breath, the moonlit kitchen. Then he whispers, “I can’t do it.”
“Do what?”
“I can’t pretend this is just sex. You already have more of me than that.”
How much? What do I have? What does he think he’s given me?
I’d return it if I knew.
“This can’t go anywhere,” I say, still breathless. “If it has to be a secret, it’s always going to be toxic.”
He touches his forehead to my back, stilling for a moment, then kisses me there. “True. I don’t want to be the reason you’re in therapy ten years down the line.”
I let out a tiny laugh. “You’re so arrogant.”
He peels himself off me. “I was going for considerate.”
I toss a dismissive smile over my shoulder.
“I met you in a sex club after I’d escaped from an arranged marriage my father sold me into to seal a business deal.
He took everything from me, has always been abusive and controlling, and I’ve only ever been a pawn to him.
I use sex as a way of avoiding everything.
Numbing out with orgasms from strangers.
And you think an affair with you is what’s going to drive me to therapy? ”
He kisses my shoulder. “God, Diana. If I could take all of that away, I would.”
My heart splinters at the idea he’d even want to. “So yeah,” I say as casually as I can. “You aren’t going to be the reason I have to find a therapist.”
Another kiss against my shoulder, his chest still rising and falling steadily against my back; I want to sink into the rhythm of his breath.
“But I might be the straw that breaks the camel’s back. I mean, we’re having this conversation when my dick is still inside you, and my cum is leaking down your thigh.” I say nothing, and he clears his throat. “Come with me to my room, please. Sleep with me.”
“We just did that.”
“No, I mean, next to me. Not for sex. Come and sleep next to me, please. I want to hold you as you fall asleep. I want to wake up with you in my arms, in my home, in my bed. I don’t want this to be some dirty secret.”
An unbidden swell of emotion rises from my chest to my throat, nearly blocking my airway. “It has to be. If Lizzie finds out, this will probably send her to therapy.”
He sighs and curses under his breath. “Better make sure she doesn’t find out then.
” He withdraws, pressing what feels like a cotton handkerchief between my legs to catch his mess and wiping me gently.
“You’ll be dripping my cum all night. You might as well make a mess on my sheets rather than your own. ”
“How romantic.”
He narrows his eyes. “You sound far too jaded for a twenty-one-year-old.”
“I’m not jaded.” I laugh. “The idea of dripping your cum all night isn’t romantic. Don’t get me wrong, it’s hot as fuck, but it’s not romance.”
“Is that what you want? Romance?”
“No,” I whisper, but it’s a lie.
A slight curl of the lip as he fastens his trousers is all the indication he gives that he heard me. Stuffing the handkerchief into his pocket, he bends to pick up my shorts and holds them out to me. His eyes never leave me as I take them and put them on.
“Come and lie with me,” he says, a sincerity in his gaze that’s hard to look at. “No romance.”
“Promise?”
He gives me a sad little smile that makes my heart ache. “Yes.”