Chapter 9 #3
‘Good. I don’t want you to go anywhere.’ He kisses me, slowly, with affection and strength, in a way that tells me I’m cherished.
I melt into him, my body moulding to his.
He lifts me again, my legs around his waist, and rolls his erection against my cleft.
My back arches, pushing my pelvis against him, raising my chest towards him.
He pins me to the wall with his body and squeezes my breast then bites me over the material of my dress.
Fuck it. I’m beyond help at this stage, anyway.
I lean in and bite his neck, partly because I want to have him, partly because I’m so fucking annoyed at my body’s ability to overrule my mind. He nibbles and sucks back, his lips delicious against my flushed skin.
‘I forgot how good you smell,’ he says, his breath hot, his words heavy.
He lowers my legs and takes my hands above my head, pinning me to the wall with every part of him as he rotates his hips against me.
I’ve lost all reason. I have no sense. Not even a little bit. None at all.
He turns me quickly so I’m facing the wall and rolls down the zip of my dress, trailing his mouth down my spine as he moves, bringing my breaths thick and fast. He pulls down my dress, letting it pool around my feet, then slowly, excruciatingly slowly, drags my thong down to join it, bending to the ground and encouraging me to step out of both.
He runs his fingertips from my ankle, up… up…
I gasp when his fingers stroke my centre. He presses his chest against me and puts his fingers in my mouth. I suck them, taking my own juice.
‘Now tell me you don’t want to do this,’ he says, before turning me roughly and ramming my back against the wall.
I yank his hair in my hands angrily and drown in his taste, the flick of his tongue against mine, the drag of his teeth against my lip.
I push him back, peeling myself from the wall, and watch him as I undo each of his shirt buttons and draw my hands greedily across his lean body, which looks better than ever.
He unbuckles his belt as I push his shirt back across his shoulders.
I reach into his jeans and cup his hard length, savouring the carnal growl that leaves his chest. He grabs my waist and turns me so I’m facing his king-sized bed.
He moves behind me, his bare pecs against my back, and bends me over, my hands on the bed, my legs wide.
Cool air caresses my sex and all I want is to be filled by him.
He rams his fingers into me, making me cry out.
‘Feel yourself, baby. Feel your clit. Let me see you come.’
It’s scarily easy. Just like it used to be. There’s no awkwardness as he moves his fingers in and out of me and I roll my own fingers across my wet clit. Everything I used to feel, the intensity, the fire, it’s all still there.
My legs start to tremble. My muscles clench, aching for more than just his fingers.
‘That’s it. Let go.’
I give in and let the orgasm I’ve been fighting take over my body. He holds my waist as my knees soften. ‘Clark.’
‘You. Are. So. Fucking. Perfect.’
He leaves me for a moment, and I stay in that stance, feeling bereft, my lungs falling back into steady breaths.
He takes off his jeans, and I hear the foil of a condom packet tear. It’s a sound that saddens me a little. We got past this once. But my body is too charged with the knowledge of what’s to come to dwell on it.
He holds my hips. His huge shaft rests against my arse, teasing me. ‘Are you okay?’
He’s not asking if I’m okay, he’s asking permission. ‘Yes.’ The word is heavy and lust-filled, almost begging.
He drives into me with a noise that’s close to a roar. His cock strokes my G-spot as he finally fills every desperate inch of me.
God, no other man. Never. Not like this.
My mind starts to cloud, my thoughts incoherent, my breathing erratic. He moves a hand to my clit. I flinch at first, the bundle of nerves too sensitive, then I relax and let him take me back to the brink.
‘Clark, I’m there. Come with me. Please.’ I need it. I need him to be in the same place as me, with me.
He quickens his thrusts but keeps his depth. Each hard pound hitting exactly where I want him to be. ‘Clark!’
‘Dayna, Jesus!’
He barks expletives and drives harder, once, twice, before my climax rips through my body. I feel him thicken and pulse, his fingers digging into my hips as he releases.
He slides out of me and gets rid of the condom then guides me onto the bed. I’m in a daze, unable to get a handle on what I’m feeling. Overwhelmed.
He lifts my chin and presses his lips to mine.
It’s so familiar it cuts through my wayward thoughts and makes me smile.
As he kisses me, he takes us both back up the bed, coming to rest over me, his weight between my legs a welcome presence.
He hovers his torso above me, resting on his forearms, and his lips curl up, his eyes bright.
I’m afraid of what he might or could say. Whether it’s good or bad, I’m not sure if I want to listen, so I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him. I get lost in his kiss, in him. And soon I’m squirming beneath him, wanting him again.
He moves down my body, nibbling my breast then sucking the end, pulling the tight tip through his teeth.
My back bows, my shoulders pressed into the mattress, my fingers fisting his bed sheets.
As he moves, I feel him harden again, and I roll my pelvis up, showing him that I want him. That I can’t get enough of him.
It occurs to me he should probably get protection, but I’m on the pill and… it’s Clark. Whether he thinks it too or not, he moves his fingers to my entrance and, satisfied that I’m ready to go again, he nudges my hole with the head of his rock-solid penis.
‘I want to come inside you, Dayna. Nothing in the world feels as good as you.’
I nod, braced, but he surprises me. He slides into me slowly and strokes my hair from my face, watching me as he makes love to me so tenderly it threatens to burst my heart.
I’ve been here before. I know the risk. I’ve felt the pain of withdrawal after succumbing to his potent drug.
But this is right. It’s so right, it couldn’t possibly be wrong.
* * *
I wake wearing only a smile. The room is bright because we didn’t close the curtains, but so bright it must have snowed overnight.
Fresh, glistening flakes. It’s hard to say which comes first: the dull throb in my head, the dry mouth, or the realisation that I was stupid enough to go to bed with Clark. Again.
But.
This is… unexpected.
His arm is wrapped around me, pinning me to his firm, warm chest. His nose is nuzzled into my neck. I touch my lips, pleasantly sore and plump from hours of being bitten and sucked. I think about the way he looked at me, not the first time, but the second and third time, when he made love to me.
But he’s looked at me like that before. Right after those looks and the feeling of falling irrevocably deeper comes the sight of his back running away.
He’s only just left his wife. Fiancée. Same difference.
God, I’m an idiot.
I peel his hand from my skin and place it gently on the mattress as I slip out of the covers. I can’t resist a glance at his fine torso. His hair is mussed from my fingers and the hours of rolling around in bed. If only it could last.
He stirs when I open a drawer and take out a pair of his lounge pants and a T-shirt. I tiptoe into the en-suite and take a shower. I can smell him on my skin. His usual scent mixed with sex. Hot and dirty.
I tilt my head back under the spray and wash my hair. He slept with me. Not the sex part but the actual sleeping. He was open when we talked last night, more honest than I think he’s ever been with me. Okay, he loves Connie. But he’s not in love with her. That’s what he said.
Maybe? Just… maybe?
I’m smiling again as I towel-dry my hair in the mirror. I consider the lounge pants and T-shirt and think better of it. My intentions don’t require clothes.
I pull my hair across one shoulder and open the bathroom door, naked.
If it were possible, I’d think my stomach just fell out of my body. I should have expected it. I did expect it. But I let myself hope for a nanosecond, and staring at the empty bed hurts so much more because I did.
I only have myself to blame.