Gant
Searing heat squeezes my cock like a vice as I slam into my pussy, as I penetrate that wall of stone she’s surrounded her heart with.
I've never had a prettier view. Between the windscreen and the rearview mirror, I can watch her face contort in pain and pleasure and see her heavy tits shake with each thrust. I can see her greedy cunt sucking in each centimetre, and I can feel her grip tighten every time I drag my cock away.
I watch those pretty emeralds climb to the ceiling every time my head pounds the deepest part of her. Her lips are so wet as she tries to shut her mouth and ease her moans, but she can’t and soon her chin’s growing wetter too.
She attempts to wipe it off, but I tug her hair hard, pulling her head back and making her spine arch enough so that she can kiss me. So that I can feel all that wetness on my tongue while my cock soaks in what’s dripping from her cunt.
So slippery. Just the sloppy, slapping noise of it all is enough to make my balls tighten almost painfully. They slap her clit with a wet smack once, twice, and then her walls clamp down on me so tight, they force me to erupt.
She groans into my mouth, and I clutch her throat to feel the vibrations of her moan as she milks me. As the tempo of those wet smacking noises reaches a crescendo and her body snaps, tremors racking her so hard and fast that she can’t keep herself up any more. She crumbles forward, and I snake my hand beneath her tits and drag her backward so that her back smacks my chest, and I can watch her convulse on my cock in the mirror. I can watch that ethereal white drip out of her pussy as I hook her legs over mine, spreading them wide so I can see the mess coating my balls and the seat.
I pin her in place, forcing her to ride me until the very last wave racks her and all that’s left are gentle erratic aftershocks in her pussy.
“Look,” I say, using her chin to guide her face to the mirror. She’s so fucking beautiful, the prettiest shade of pink tinting her skin as she watches us through half-hooded eyes. “You did it. You came alive in my arms again.”
She smiles sleepily. “You did it too.”
I take in the seats. The glass. But there is no blood. No death rattle.
Still, it doesn’t mean I want to stay in here any longer, no matter how much prettier this white mess is to the red.
Elle seems to silently understand this, because she opens the back door before sliding off my cock with a wince. She doesn’t make it two steps before I shut the car door and scoop her into my arms, so her sticky pussy is kissing my pubic bone.
“Baby steps,” I say, kissing her as we get onto the lift. We travel past three floors before I break away to peer into her eyes. “Thank you.”
She smiles softly. “You can get in the car without me, . Just stay in the present.”
“I don’t just mean about the car. I mean, for letting me back into you. Into your heart and soul.”
She tenses before ducking her head beneath my chin as the lift opens into the penthouse.
“I didn’t let you. You were always in there. I never managed to get you out…are those Bae’s keys?” she asks, and I know she’s just trying to change the subject. Still, I look at the bench where Zoi’s keychain glares up at me angrily. On the other side, he’s smiling maliciously.
“He moved into the unit just below me.”
“Oh.”
“Elle?”
“Hmm.”
“Have you forgiven me?” I tug at her nape, forcing her to look up at me. “No lies, no secrets, remember?”
It takes her a second to answer, and my heart squeezes in anticipation.
“I’ve accepted you for who you are.”
And that isn’t enough.
Her earlier words, her demands for forgiveness from the hospital, play in my ear, and I squeeze her tighter as we slip into our bedroom.
“Have you thought about tomorrow? About the cricket match.”
“You want me to see you swing a bat that bad? Don’t worry, seeing you prance around in tights is masculine enough for me,” she teases, but we both know what question she’s avoiding.
“You’ve already seen me swing a bat. You cried and screamed and pleaded for me to stop, but you know we can’t, not until the finale.” I slide my fingers from her ass, to her still dripping slit, and she jumps, sliding to her feet right as I enter the bathroom.
I don’t miss the pinch of her lips to stop a smile as I cut the shower on.
“I want you to come. Aria and Stassi will be there.”
A flicker of excitement crosses her features, but then it’s gone just as quickly. “And the Parrishs?”
“And the Auclair.” Just one.
“So Bart’s still coming into town?”
“You still don’t want to meet him?”
Steam drifts between us as she stares up at me, her lip trembling. “He tortured Jarett for two years. How long did you know that he had him?”
“After the play, when you were rushed to the hospital. That’s when Bart showed up. He gave me Jarrett.”
“Do you know what Bart did to him?” she asks hesitantly, and something tells me she doesn’t really want to know.
I shake my head. “I sent him into the wild with Zedd. Into the Watering Hole. He does well in old places. He was happy to have a beer, and then Jaime did the rest.”
“ Zedd?” s he asks incredulously. Her knees give out as she searches for a place to collapse, but I’m right here.
I scoop her into my arms again and lead us to the bench in the shower.
“Tall, blond,” she mutters but doesn’t elaborate, and I don’t push.
“And then you gave him to Jaime?”
“Yes.”
“So, Bart let him go because he finally realised that Jarett was telling the truth? That he doesn’t know who your brother is? That he’s not the father?”
“Maybe. I think Bart deemed him utterly useless beyond death at that point.”
She swallows. “He would’ve killed him, just like he wants to kill your brother?”
“Of course. He gave me Jarett so that I could have you.”
“Wait…he wants you to have me?” she asks, utterly confused.
“He wants me to have what I want, and I hate the way you say that word, brother .”
“You sound like Aria.”
“He’s a stranger, Elle. We share, no shared, a mother. That’s it.”
She looks at me intently. “It’s one thing if Bart wants to kill people. That’s horrible, despicable enough, but you’re looking for this brother too. You're helping him.”
“I don’t have a choice. You think I’m spoiled?” I chuckle darkly. “Bart gets what he wants. Even I don’t think that highly of myself to assume I can ever stop him. You say I always win.” I shake my head. “You don’t know my father. He always wins.”
She freezes, a look of terror passing over her features as she stiffens in my arms. “Then why would you want me to meet him?” she asks, confused.
“Just to say that you did. At least once.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“It makes perfect sense to me.”
She tries to get off my lap, but I lock her against my chest.
“! We’re talking about murder! You say there’s no way out of his scheme, yet you somehow think he’ll let you plan your own life out?”
“I know he won’t. You say I’m delusional, but I’m very much aware of my reality.”
“Then, why do you keep holding on to me?” she asks, trying to break my grip again. “Don’t tell me you think if you do exactly what he wants, he’ll let you have what you want, me.”
“I don’t think that at all.”
“Then seriously, what the fuck are you thinking?”
“That I want you to meet him,” I say, grabbing the shower head and running it over us.
She shivers despite the warmth. “ Why? ”
“I said I’d do anything for you, but I don’t want you to do anything for me that you don’t want to, Elle.”
Her shoulders relax, and I drop a kiss on her right one before meeting her gaze in the shower glass.
“But I will ask you to do this.”
“Why?” she insists, her brows knitting, a pained plea in the question.
“Because it would mean the world to me.”