21. Ian
21
IAN
Nothing turns me on more than a woman begging to be filled with me.
Sarah wants me. The evidence of her need for me is currently dripping from her pussy onto my hand.
There's no better motivation to fuck a person than this but, somehow, I can't get myself to do it.
She's hiding something from me, and it's killing me.
“Ian. Please,” she begs me again, her hips jutting out so she can get better friction. I hold her still by tightening my grip on her hips.
She whimpers in protest. “Ian.” My name slips out of her mouth like a plea. A motivation to do literally anything so long as she gets fucked.
Fuck, she's driving me insane.
Caving, I slip the tip of a finger inside her, testing her walls. She clenches around me, trying to get a greedy hold of the small penetration.
That's it.
I push away from her, my free hand immediately going to my jeans to free my dick. The moment it's out, I plunge deep inside her.
“Oh, God.” She groans, one of her hands going to her mouth to muffle her voice.
She feels so good that I don't even stop to check if she wants it rough. I just hold her by the waist and fuck the hell out of her until she can't stand straight, and I have to use my upper body to hold hers down.
Soon, I feel my orgasm beckoning, and although I haven't had it yet, something tells me it's going to be the best.
She starts to buck against me, and I take that as a sign that she's close, too. Taking a hand to her mound, I start to rub her clit.
“I'm close. What about you?” I whisper when I feel like I'm going to burst any minute from now.
All I get from her is a mewl. So I continue to vigorously rub against her sensitive bud.
A few more thrusts later, and I'm jerking from my release. My rub on her clit is now barely stable. Before I can let myself worry about that though, she freezes beneath me, and with the action comes a tight grip on my dick.
Fuck, I'm going to pass out.
Our orgasms almost last forever, and when they stop we both collapse against the rail.
“Fuck, that was good,” she whispers after a while.
“No, it wasn't good. It was amazing,” I say and kiss her shoulder blades.
Withdrawing from her, I drag us both to sit on the hard ground, and she follows me without any hesitation.
I have to pray that Sheila didn't hear anything.
Who am I kidding?
She probably heard us fucking. We weren't exactly trying to be very quiet.
What if the neighbors heard us, too?
At least I know we won't be ending up on a news blog tomorrow. I may not know much about Glazer Ville, but I know they protect their own. I saw that in action when Sheila called Sarah to come for me that night at the hospital.
Hospital.
Suddenly a thought hits me, and I grow still, realizing that this is the third time I've had sex with Sarah without using protection.
She notices the change in my demeanor and glances back to look at me.
“What is it?” she asks.
I shake my head at her and look away. How the hell am I supposed to ask her if she's on the pill after having unprotected sex with her three consecutive times?
What the hell have I been thinking?
Damn it.
“Ian,” she presses, never one to let things go.
I fan out a breath, the wheels already turning in my head. She could be pregnant now for all I know. It's been weeks since we first had sex.
Okay, now I'm just freaking out for no reason.
Her gaze remains on me, so I cave. I need her to give me something to hold onto, anyway.
“Are you on any birth control?” I ask her, my breath freezing in my lungs.
Something passes over her face. It passes so fast I can't identify it, but something tells me it's disappointment.
Somehow.
Is she disappointed that I don't trust her?
“Sarah, look, I just?—”
“I’ll fix it alright? Don’t worry,” she says cutting me off.
Looking and feeling like a fool, I nod and try to think of what to say to get myself out of the dog house.
“I’m gonna go inside. Good night.” She pulls away from me, and I watch her walk away. I know I've screwed up.
But I'll fix it. Soon.
The next morning, I wake up to the sound of Sheila causing a ruckus in the kitchen.
I get off the couch and find a bathroom where I wash my face and mouth and take a good pee. By the time I step out, I'm face-to-face with Sarah.
We both pause when we see one another, neither of us wanting to be the first to talk. It takes me a few seconds before I decide to man up.
I want to fix things between us after last night, and here's the chance.
“Good morning,” I say but I get no response.
Instead, she sizes me up like a prosecutor would a defendant, shakes her head, and walks away.
Something tells me it's going to be a long day.
Groaning, I walk back to the living room where Sarah isn't in sight. I hear her voice with Sheila in the kitchen and do my best to ignore them, but it's hard.
It's driving me insane hearing her voice just a few feet away and having her be mad at me.
Standing up, I start to walk toward the kitchen with one decision in place.
I'm fixing this.
I enter the kitchen, and they both stop talking immediately.
“Good morning, Sheila. Sarah.”
Sheila glances between me and Sarah. A knowing look crosses her face before she smirks.
“Good morning, Ian. Hope the sofa wasn't too uncomfortable for you?”
It was. And I have a feeling she made me sleep on it for a reason. I call bullshit offering me a room or the sofa. It shouldn't even have been an option to begin with.
“It was just perfect,” I lie through my teeth, and she sees right through me.
“Mmm-hmmm.” She hums and then goes back to cooking. I immediately take the opportunity of her silence to speak with Sarah.
“Can I speak with you for a few minutes?” I ask her, letting it show in my demeanor what it's about.
She takes one look at me, and I know she's not going to make it easy.
When has she ever made anything easy for me?
“Is it urgent?” she asks, leaving me speechless. “If it's not, then it can wait. I'm in the middle of a conversation with my aunt,” she finishes.
I gape at her in confusion. I know what I did wasn't appropriate, but she's taking it too seriously. Too far, even.
“Sarah, I…” I trail off as my phone starts to ring from the living room.
Looking in the direction of the phone, I struggle with what to decide.
“The phone won't answer itself,” she says with a look on her face that tells me nothing I say right now will change her mind.
Fine. I don't know how long I'm going to be here, but I know for sure that I'm not going to let this last long.
Enough with the back and forth already. Even if I'm not certain I love her, I want to have something with her, and she's not making it easy for me by being difficult and keeping a secret from me, too.
She said to trust her.
And what have I been doing since?
Damn it.
When I get back to the living room, the phone has stopped ringing. I pick it up to check who called. Christopher.
He knows I'm in town. I don't even want to know how.
Not wanting to ignore him though, I start to dial him back, but the phone rings just as I'm about to press the dial button.
“Hello.”
“Ian. How are you?”
I know he didn't call me to exchange pleasantries, so there's no point attempting to do so.
“You know I'm in town. Why'd you call?” I say in my best no bullshit tone.
“You're in Glazer Ville?” His voice comes back full of surprise.
He didn't know?
“I thought that's why you're calling.”
“No, I had no idea you were in town, but this just makes things all the better. I need to see you.”
“I'm not sure that will work. I'm busy right now.”
“Doing what? Helping Sheila’s niece hide from the media?”
I thought he just said he didn't know I was in town?
“Didn't you just say?—”
“Yeah, I know what I said. I also know what I've found out about you. Which is why I'm calling. I've been doing a lot of research since the last time we saw each other, and I believe I've found a way for you to access your inheritance without staying in Glazer Ville for a year.”
My inheritance.
That sounds and feels so wrong. Do I even deserve any of these properties?
I didn’t know my aunt. She didn't know me, either. Why leave me all she worked for all her life?
I don't get it. And I'm not ready to bother my head about that, for now. I have enough to deal with already. I still haven't decided what I'm going to do about my job. And something tells me Richard isn't going to be exactly happy if he doesn't see me before the day runs out.
Did I ask for time to think about it?
Yes.
But knowing him, he'll think I was just messing around. He knows my job means everything to me. It still does, right?
I can't even define my priorities.
Sighing, I open my mouth to let him down, but he beats me to it.
“Look, let's meet later in the evening, okay? I'll explain everything to you, and you can decide what to do afterward.”
It wouldn't make any sense to say no to him right now. Not when he's going extra miles to help.
“Alright, let's meet later in the day. I'll text you the location when I'm free.”
“I'll be expecting it. Bye.”
He hangs up, and I have to press down the urge to throw my phone. The thing just won't stop ringing and bombarding me with situations I don't want to deal with right now.
I walk back into the house, and I notice there's a bit of quiet now. Sheila must be done cooking. The voices of the women carry from the kitchen into the living room, and what I hear them saying has me walking toward them as quietly as I can.
“I'm not telling him right now,” Sarah says, her voice coming off a bit angry.
Is this about the secret she's keeping from me?
“Well, why not? The man deserves to know the truth.”
“I'm not saying he doesn't. I'm saying I can't tell him. If I tell him, he's going to bolt through the door as fast as he can.”
She really thinks that low of me?
And what's so terrible that she thinks I won't be able to handle it?
“You don't know that, dear. You're just speculating. Give him a chance, an opportunity to at least have a say.”
“Not now, Auntie, please.”
I know I should walk back into the living room, take a seat, and pretend they're not talking about me. It's hard, especially when she's saying she doesn't trust me with her secret.
Well, here's what I think. It's either she tells me, or I just leave regardless.
The choice is hers. So, I walk into the kitchen and make her options known to her.