Chapter 29
Alani
What I wanted to do after we fucked in the shower and what I could’ve gotten away with were two very different things.
I wanted my hands all over his body. He allowed me to touch him while he was inside of me, but the second he was done, he lowered me to my feet and washed every inch of my body, no more attention paid between my legs than needed to get me clean.
It’s as if he can’t help himself when he fucks me, but the second it’s over, that switch flips back in his brain and he has to recharge that need before he’s even remotely interested again.
What surprises me the most is waking up with him beside me in the bed. It’s literally the only one in the house, but I figured after we dried off, he’d tell me to call Ayla to come get me or he’d insist I get in his truck so he could drive me home.
He hasn’t once questioned if I’m planning on turning him in. I don’t know if he’s so cocky that he thinks I won’t or if he’ll just hurt me if I try.
I wouldn’t. That man got what he deserved. Although it probably makes me sick and sadistic, I have no feelings about the man he killed that night in Austin either. It doesn’t matter that I didn’t know a damn thing about him.
I should probably struggle with that realization but I’m not going to. I just don’t care.
His breathing is even and calm. Although I have my back to him, and his thigh is barely touching the back of my legs, I know he’s asleep.
I don’t turn over to face him because the movement could make him wake up, and I don’t doubt he’ll leave then. I doubt he slept while I was drugged and unconscious, so he’d been up more than twenty-four hours before he passed out.
The soreness between my legs throbs, but not in a way that makes me regret any of it.
The chemistry between the two of us is off the charts. Sexually, he’s everything I didn’t know to want, but as good as that part is, it still leaves me wishing for more.
I got half of a smile earlier and that was it.
I couldn’t even bear to look him in the eyes when he was inside of me because I was afraid I’d find disgust for me in them.
Yeah, he comes. His orgasms are powerful, but enjoying sex and enjoying the person you’re having it with aren’t the same thing.
With the speed in which he gets away from me, I’m left feeling like he hates me more than he likes me.
I hate that I want more from him. I hate that I’ve let some idea of us together infiltrate my head because now I can’t make it go away.
He’s proven more than once that I’m very easy to walk away from, and I think the only thing that made him interfere this last time is because he needed to fuck me one last time.
With tears in my eyes, I close out the world, forcing in deep breaths and releasing them slowly. With any luck, he’ll leave a part of him inside of me. If I can’t make this man love me, then his son or daughter will.
***
The pain and heartache that I fell asleep to are not the same things I wake up to.
His breath is so fucking warm on my neck, his tongue sneaking out to taste the skin there.
His hand teases me, his fingers exploring my most intimate, tender flesh.
Once I begin to understand what’s happening, I spread a little wider for him, lifting my leg and pushing it back over the top of his.
He likes it, if I go by the way he rolls his hips, pushing his erection into my back.
But as good as it feels, I know it only leads to him getting away from me as quickly as possible. Maybe if I walk away this time, it’ll be easier to deal with.
I pull away, turning to climb off the bed, but his hand immediately tangles in my messy hair. I went to bed with it wet, and because of that, it’s a complete mess.
“Goddamnit,” I hiss, falling back on the bed.
His hand sweeps between my legs again. It feels so fucking good, and I’m torn between attempting to leave again and just giving in to what my body wants. The pain in my heart always lasts longer, making it a very difficult choice.
“I’ll fuck you when I want,” he growls in my ear.
“And if I don’t want it?” I spit.
“Your cunt is too damn slick for me to believe that lie.”
I do my best to hold back a moan when he pushes two thick fingers inside of me.
“So fucking wet for me.”
He keeps me on my side, moving until my top leg is over his shoulder before he slides inside of me. The motherfucker is right. His entry is easy because of my arousal.
This isn’t the part I hate. I could spend every waking moment with this man like this. Hell, I’m not opposed to him fucking me while I sleep, and honestly, that’s a hot fucking thought.
But the second he comes, he bolts. I may want a little pain and for him to treat me like a whore, but I don’t want to feel used up and discarded like one when he’s done.
“Fuck, Alani,” he groans, but then immediately snaps his mouth closed.
What I avoided before, thinking he’d be looking at me with disgust, was all wrong.
His eyes are squeezed closed, the skilled fingers of one hand swirling around my clit. His teeth are digging into his lower lip as if he wants to make more noise, but he isn’t allowing himself to do it.
“Feels so good,” I moan. “Deeper.”
His eyes snap open, the fire in them burning my skin.
It’s a level of contact we’ve never had before. On one hand, I want to pull my eyes away because I know this is only going to make things worse for me when he leaves again. On the other hand, I’m powerless to not take this gift and swim inside of it as long as he’ll allow it.
His fingers dig into my skin, but he doesn’t pull away when I clasp my hand around his wrist. Zings of electrical current flow through me as his hips continue to work.
“I’m—”
“Fucking don’t,” he growls, but I can’t stop it.
I’ve never been able to control my orgasms. Hell, until he came along, I fought for them.
He pulls his fingers from my clit too fucking late. My body is already jumping over the edge. My eyelids grow heavier with my release, but I manage to keep them open.
“So fucking greedy.”
He presses all the way inside, my mouth opening as I feel the pulse of him as deep inside of me as he can get.
His chest is heaving, his reaction an homage to how powerful his own orgasm is.
He licks his lips, making it clear to me once again that he still hasn’t kissed me.
He moans when he slips from inside of me as if he wants to stay there forever. He crashes beside me, on the opposite side he woke up on. It gives me the opportunity to see his face, and I relish the tiny smile on his lips.
He doesn’t immediately climb out of the bed, and he doesn’t form a flat line with his lips.
It’s another gift I know better than to take for granted.
I stay still and just watch him.
“Your pussy,” he says as if those two words explain everything.
“I’m more than just a pussy,” I say, hearing the pain lacing my own voice.
He rolls his head on the bed, his dark eyes locking with mine. The smile is gone.
“You have no fucking clue.”