13. Lee
THIRTEEN
lee
The door slams behind Aries as he leaves, and the sound echoes through my bones like a gunshot. My hands shake with leftover adrenaline and rage. Fucking asshole. What the hell was he thinking, fucking with something that isn’t his? It’s an irrational thought since Salem isn’t technically mine, but it doesn’t matter.
I can’t wrap my head around what made him think bringing her here was a good idea, acting like he knows a damn thing about what’s going on between us. He doesn’t know anything. No one does. Just Salem and I. So why the fuck was he pressing so hard for answers?
Water drips from my hair, trailing down my back, so I snatch a towel off my bed and tighten it low on my hips. The room feels too small, too hot, the remnants of steam from my shower making everything blurry. Or maybe that’s just the anger clouding my vision.
“Salem?” My voice comes out rougher than intended. She’s still hiding in the bathroom, and I don’t blame her. What a fucking mess. “You can come out. He’s gone.”
The silence stretches between us, broken only by the water droplets hitting the hardwood floor. I count them without meaning to—one, two, three.
It’s crazy how her habits are becoming mine.
“Are you …” Her voice is muffled through the door. “Are you dressed?”
Heat crawls up my neck. Why the hell am I blushing? This is my room. “Not exactly. Just a towel.”
More silence. “Oh.”
That single syllable carries so much weight. So much possibility. I drag a hand through my wet hair, trying to think past the rage still simmering under my skin. Past the way she looked at me when she first walked in—shock mixed with something darker, hungrier.
“I can get dressed if?—”
“Uhh, no!” The word bursts from her so quickly it startles us both. “I mean … I just… give me a minute.”
I hear her counting under her breath. One, two, three deep breaths. The familiar pattern soothes me even as it makes my heart race faster.
The bathroom door opens slowly. Salem emerges, and her face is a mixture of terrified and determined. Her chin up, lips pursed, but her eyes are haunted. Her gaze immediately drops to my chest, then lower, following a water droplet as it trails down my abs. Her gloved hands clench at her sides.
“I’m sorry.” We both speak at the same time.
A laugh escapes me, but it sounds strained. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Aries… fuck, I don’t know what got into him. I never thought he’d?—”
“Was he telling the truth?” She still doesn’t meet my eyes. “I know this is fake, obviously, but … is it a game? Is it some twisted joke?”
My heart stops. “Salem—no. Aries doesn’t …”
“Just be honest, please.”
“Honest? I’ve been honest with you from the very beginning.”
Kinda. There are things I’ve done she knows nothing about and hopefully never will. I take a step closer, the towel slipping dangerously low. Her eyes track the movement, and something hot unfurls in my stomach.
“Then tell me the truth. I know we have an agreement, obviously.” She swallows. “But is it more than that… like some kind of pity party? A game because you’re bored and tired of the same old, same old?”
“Nothing about this is a game to me.” The words hang between us like mist in the air, making it hard to breathe. Water drips from my hair onto my shoulders, and I watch her follow the droplets’ path down my chest—down, down, down until they disappear beneath the towel.
I continue. “Aries knows nothing about our agreement. He doesn’t know what we’re doing. He only acts like he does.”
She nods, and it looks like she believes me, but that’s not good enough. Not for me.
“I took some of your anxiety medication.” The words tumble out in a rush. “Or whatever was on your bathroom sink. I thought it might make this easier. I was on the brink of a panic attack, and I remembered you saying they helped, and I just … I shouldn’t have, but…”
That explains the boldness. The way she’s looking at me. The slight dilation of her pupils.
“Salem.” I take another step closer, and she doesn’t back away this time. “You’re not thinking clearly right now.”
“Maybe that’s a good thing.” Her gloved hands twist together. “Maybe I think too much, usually. Count too much. Clean too much. Maybe …”
She trails off as another drop of water slides down my chest. I feel exposed in a way that has nothing to do with being nearly naked.
“We … We shouldn’t …” I say, gulping, but I move closer anyway. “It’s…”
She nods like she understands, but her eyes are fixed on my mouth.
One more step and we’ll be touching.
Two ragged breaths between us.
Three seconds before everything changes.
“Lee?” Her voice is barely a whisper. A brush of air against my lips.
“Yeah?”
“You’re dripping on my shoes.”
There’s so much open need, so much fucking desire in her voice. The tension snaps.
“Fuck it,” I growl against her sweet, full mouth, then sweep in to take it.
She tastes clean and sweet, like a peppermint candy. I reach up to wrap my fingers around her throat to drag her hard into me. She stumbles but catches herself against my chest, her nitrile gloves roving up onto my shoulders as if she needs an anchor. I like that idea … being her anchor.
When I pull away, she sways again, her eyes closed, her face lax and dreamy.
“Look at me, Pantry Girl. I want to see your eyes.”
She opens them slowly, batting her long lashes, then looks up at me.
“I want to see you come apart. Let me make you come.”
For a second, I think she’ll turn me down and run away, but then slowly, so slowly, she nods once. That’s all I fucking need.
I reach down and scoop her up by the ass, take her into the bedroom, and thank all the fucking gods in heaven the housekeeper just changed my sheets and made the bed. If she’s going to let me do this, I don’t want something like unclean sheets to pull her out of the moment.
My erection tents my towel, and I take a fraction of a second to squeeze the soft round globes of her ass in my hands. Then I sigh and slide her down my body so her feet touch the floor, loving the way her eyes widen as she feels my dick against her belly.
She looks down, then back up at my face, and I don’t like what I see in her eyes. Questions that I don’t have answers to.
I give her a tiny shove until she falls onto the end of the bed, then lift her by the waist and deposit her a little higher. “As much as I love your eyes on my cock, what I want more than anything is to taste your sweet pussy.”
Her throat bobs, and I watch her fingers curl into the coverlet. The skin along her neck and cheeks flushes pink, almost like she’s embarrassed. Fuck, she’s so pretty with her pupils blown wide, desire and need flowing out of her.
I’m barely restraining myself at this point.
“I need to taste you. I can’t wait another second …” I drop to my knees, grab her thighs, and haul her toward me so her knees frame my shoulders.
If I were a better person, I’d have asked and waited for her reply, but if I don’t taste that sweet honey on my tongue right now, I might lose my fucking mind. Never mind that she doesn’t make a single move to stop me. Not when I pop the button of her jeans, pull the zipper down, or even as I peel the denim off her legs.
All she does is watch me, staring like she’s hypnotized. Her chest starts to rise and fall rapidly, her breath coming out in pants. Yeah, she’s turned on and wants me, but in the back of my mind, I know she’ll never forgive me if I do something she isn’t willing to accept. So I need to watch her closely. Her eyes are all heat, and she keeps licking her lips like she’s ready to take a bite out of me.
Patience. There is plenty of time for that.
I peer down at her little white panties, and they stare back, taunting me. Fuck. I want to rip them off with my teeth, but I don’t want to scare her.
Ah, hell. What’s it matter? I’m going to hell anyway. Leaning forward on my knees, I shove her thighs wide and bury my face against her mound. Her entire body shudders, and I inhale her sweet musky scent.
Mine. She is mine.
Then I lick her hard right over the fabric. I damn near come unglued when her lips part, and a soft moan escapes. Oh, fuck me, she’s going to make noise through this? I might come in my towel like a fucking teenager.
I find the little nub of her clit and bite it gently, drawing another moan out of her. My cock is harder than steel, and I’m seconds away from humping the damn bed frame just to get some relief. I need these panties gone, need her laid bare to me.
Inching back a bit, I reach for her underwear, but she shakes her head, smiling, and shifts forward, lifting her hips and ass as she shoves them down her legs.
“Is it wrong that I want you?” Salem whispers, her voice soft.
“If it’s wrong, then we can deal with that later because I’m too far gone for you to stop now.” I’ve barely finished speaking, and I’m delving between her legs once more, my tongue slipping between her folds to find her clit.
Overtaken with pleasure, she falls back onto the bed, her hands fisting the covers. I half expect her to freak out, for reality to catch up with her, but neither of those things happen. Her perfect face twists with pleasure, and there’s something so beautiful about watching her come undone.
I continue to lick her, flicking my tongue against that tiny little bundle of nerves, making her go mad. She writhes against the sheets, and soon, her knees tremble against my shoulders.
“Oh … Oh my god.” She groans, and her deep voice sends an electric current straight to my throbbing cock.
I can’t take the torture anymore.
With one hand, I grip my length, tugging the towel loose on the way to get access to my skin. I suck on her clit and stroke myself, using some of the pre-cum already gathered on the head as a lubricant.
“Fuck. I’ve never been so turned on.” I groan against her folds as I pull back and look up the length of her body.
She’s killing me. Slowly. Painfully.
“Don’t stop, please don’t stop,” she begs, her eyes pleading as she stares down at me.
“Never. Nothing could stop me from watching you come undone.” I grin against her soaking wet flesh and gently slide a finger inside her pussy. Her pretty brown eyes widen a fraction while her body tenses with surprise, but then relaxes a second later.
So warm, and wet, and fucking tight. Pure perfection.
“Lee …” Salem whines, and I can feel her need, her want. Lifting her hips, she seeks out a release that only I can give her. That power and control. The trust she’s putting in me. It makes any fear I have about doing something wrong dissolve into thin air. I’ll worship her body until she’s begging me to stop. Until she can’t tell what is pleasure or pain.
“I’m right here, Pantry Girl,” I whisper against her thigh. “You’re so tight, so fucking perfect. Think you can take another finger?”
“Yes!” She nods, her eyes pleading.
All I can do is smile as I insert a second finger, stretching her a bit more and making the space snugger. I can already imagine what it will feel like to sink inside her.
I let it play out like a movie inside my head, doing my best to make sure I remain present so I don’t take it too far. This is Salem, and she’s nothing like any of the others I’ve been with before. She’s different, special.
In and out, in and out.
I keep my pace slow at first and only move faster once her little body starts to writhe against the sheets. Her hands fly up to her chest, and she tugs at her nipples, rolling the tips between her fingers through the fabric of her shirt.
“I … I think I’m …” Her voice is tight, and she bites at her bottom lip in a way that makes me want to replace her teeth with my own.
Leaning forward, I replace my thumb with my tongue, sucking on her little clit, and begrudgingly withdraw my fingers from her tight channel. She offers a small whimper of displeasure at the loss but melts again when I stroke her clit. Her legs clamp tight around my ears, and that’s all the indication I need to know that I’m doing what I need to do.
“Oh god … Lee. Don’t stop,” she moans, and her thighs continue to tremble.
She’s close, and I can’t wait to taste her orgasm on my tongue. I forgo giving myself pleasure and use both hands to push her thighs open, keeping my tongue right where I need it to be. Salem releases a soft gasp, and then she spasms. Her entire body shatters as pleasure ripples through her, rewarding me with the sweet juices of her orgasm.
“So fucking good.” I groan against her pussy while I continue licking her slowly as she rides it out. I would love nothing more than to stay between her thighs, but we both know as soon as the orgasmic effects wear off, things won’t be so amazing. I don’t want her to regret this moment or think I took advantage of her.
Pulling away, she lets her thighs fall open like a butterfly, and I get a good look at her, the soft pink flush against milky pale skin, the dark curls just above her clit. Damn. I could look at her like this all fucking day and never get tired of it.
Her eyes widen as they skim over my achingly hard cock and up my chest, stopping at my mouth. I wipe it with the back of my hand, then lick it clean.
She bites her lip, and I lean over and kiss her, tasting her cunt and her mouth at the same time. Her hands clutch onto my shoulders, and before I realize what’s happened, she’s set me off balance and pulled me down on top of her.
I brace myself on either side of her body and grin down at her face, expecting to see my own dreamy expression mirrored in hers, but I don’t. She’s looking at me the same way she was before, all need and urgent hunger, and just that look shoots heat through me, thickening my hard cock further.
“What are you doing, Pantry Girl?”
“Oh nothing, just trying to get my boyfriend to fuck me …”
She tugs me into a quick kiss, then trails her mouth over my chin, blazing a fire of sin across my neck. Fuck me. I could think of lots of other things to do with that mouth.
“I don’t think you mean that,” I reply.
“But I do. I want you to fuck me, Lee.” Her seductive words skate across my skin.
Morally, I know it’s wrong to continue, to fuck her while she’s under the influence, but on the other hand, I want her just as badly as she wants me. I clench my jaw and weigh my options while she continues to kiss me with that perfect mouth of hers. Seeing her so free and expressive like this is better than I could’ve ever imagined.
“Stop overthinking it.” As if it’s that easy.
If she were anyone else, I would’ve done it by now, but then again, I had yet to fuck a woman because I hadn’t found one I wanted to stick my dick in yet. That and the desire to piss off my parents outweighed any need for pussy. Can’t knock someone up and accidentally fulfill my parents’ wishes to produce an heir if you aren’t fucking the right sex.
“Fuck, Salem. I’m over here trying to be a gentleman. Are you trying to see how much I can take before I break?” I grit out as she sucks on a sensitive spot at my neck.
“I didn’t ask you to be a gentleman. I want you, all of you , every inch.”
I blink down, tugging her away so I can see her face. Fuck. Her pupils are dilated, and she’s still got this lustful look on her face. She’s still under the influence of my anxiety meds, still compromised, but … she grinds against my thigh, rocking her hips forward, and I want that warmth, her fucking arousal soaking my cock.
As I try to wrangle some semblance of control over myself, I stare down between our bodies, where my hard cock lies pressed between us. We fit together so perfectly. I might not have fucked a woman before, but I can feel how easy it would be to slip inside her and feel her cunt clutch around me until she’s whimpering.
Her teeth rake down my collarbone and over my chest, and I clench my jaw, grinding my teeth together to stop myself from sinking deep inside her.
“Pantry Girl …” I groan. “You’ll regret this …”
“I promise I won’t.” She licks her lips and smiles at me, then tugs me forward, her glazed expression roaming over my face. “I want you. All of you. Please?”
Shit. Does that count as consent? What if I don’t come? Just enter her enough to take the edge off? Watch her unravel again? I press up out of her hold, and she whimpers. There’s no walking away from her. Not right now, when I’m so close to the edge. If she regrets this later, then so be it. “Shirt. Off. Now. I want to see those nipples, taste them, bite them.”
She blinks a few times, like she’s surprised at my request, then scrambles to remove her shirt, her gloves catching in the fabric. I have no idea why, but the sight of her in nothing but those latex gloves is a bigger turn-on than I thought it would be.
Or maybe it’s just her.
I ease my weight back on top of her, and she butterflies her thighs open again, welcoming me against her body. She’s so warm and slick. All at once, I’m hit with anxiety. My stomach twists into a knot, tightening by the second.
What if I come too fast? What if I don’t make her come before I do? What if I hurt her?
Salem reaches for me, tugging me closer. Our lips are nearly touching when she says, “It’s okay, Lee, I trust you.”
I don’t understand how, but it’s like she could tell something was wrong, that I needed a reminder. As quick as it arrived, the fear and anxiety disappeared. Letting my body take control, I erase the remaining distance between us and press my lips to hers. It’s a bold kiss, feverish and exhilarating. She opens her mouth to me, and my tongue slips into hers. Pleasure zips up my spine as our tongues tangle, and her vanilla scent surrounds me.
Shifting my hips forward, I let the head of my cock slide against her slick heat, and she reacts like she’s being hit by a bolt of pleasure. She bucks against me, driving the head of my cock farther into her, and I grit my teeth at the onslaught of sensation. Stars fill my eyes, and I’m consumed with the need to claim her. I’m possessed, past the point of rational thought.
I slide in a little deeper, and my lungs tighten to the point of pain as her pussy swallows a little bit more of my cock. So tight, so perfect.
Salem throws her head back, her eyebrows pinched together as if she’s in pain. Shit. Am I hurting her? Her chest heaves, and my attention is momentarily drawn to her dusky-pink nipples. I need to rein it in and gain control before the moment takes control of me.
What if she starts to have a panic attack? The reality of that gives me enough patience to pause, and I reach for her, cradling the side of her head.
“Did I hurt you? Are you okay?”
She smiles, fucking smiles, and I swear a piece of my heart breaks off and joins hers.
“I’m fine. Don’t stop. It’s been a while, that’s all.”
Okay, at least she’s not a virgin, not that it matters. It does make me feel a little less guilty. Wrapping her legs tight around me, she digs her foot into my ass, forcing my hips forward and my cock a little deeper.
Holy fuck.
Then she stops.
“Condom?” Salem’s voice is a squeak.
“Fuck, yes, I’m sorry.” Only I would forget that. As messed up as it is, impregnating Salem is the last thing I fucking need. I start to pull back, but she stops me with a flex of her hips. Her dreamy gaze meets mine.
“It’s fine. I’m on birth control.”
I study her features, contemplating what I should do. I know it’s irresponsible, but the feel of her around me, my bare cock sliding into her warm heat, is too good. I thrust forward, giving her the last two inches of my cock.
She hisses out a long breath and digs her nails into my back. There’s no way she didn’t cut through those gloves. I’ve never experienced pleasure like this before, and my mind is blown. Salem’s brows are still pinched together as if she’s in pain, so I snake a hand between us and gently stroke her clit.
“You were made for me, Pantry Girl. Made to take my cock.” I whisper against her throat before I rake my teeth down her neck and then kiss my way back up. My gaze catches on where our bodies are joined, and all I can do is stare, the raw hunger unfurling in my gut at the image of her impaled on my length. “Fuck, you feel so good. So fucking good.” I finger her clit, strumming it until she raises her hips, seeking friction.
It only takes a minute to find a steady rhythm, and I’m torn between watching the ecstasy play across her features and ducking my head to take her mouth until I capture her sweet, breathy moans.
“Lee …” She moans my name, and butterflies take flight in my stomach. I clutch her to my chest and thrust into her, meeting her stroke for stroke. Soon, an all-familiar pleasure builds at the base of my spine.
God no . I can’t come before she does.
I will not fucking come before she does.
“I need you to come. Are you going to come for me?” I growl through my teeth, holding back my own pleasure.
“Yes!” she exclaims.
“Fuck, yes, you are. Come on my cock. Come for me.” My voice is animalistic, and it’s like she was waiting for my command because she explodes not even a few seconds later.
Her walls clamp down around me, her whole body tensing, making it damn near impossible to move inside her. One, two, three more strokes, and I pull out of her, pumping my achingly hard erection until my release shudders through me, and I pepper her skin with my cum. Some primal part of me loves the way it looks there on her pretty flushed skin. So I leave it, even wiping the end of my cock onto a clean area. Some of the orgasmic haze starts to wear off, and I glance up at her to make sure she’s okay. That my cum on her skin isn’t setting off her OCD, but she appears to be more than okay. She simply lies there, dazed, her body limp.
It gives me a minute to clean up my mess, then gather a fresh pair of gloves for her. While in the process of doing that, reality crashes back into me, reminding me of what a piece of shit I am. What the fuck did I just do? A bottle of liquor on the sideboard beckons to me, but I hold off, wanting to make sure she gets out the door first at least.
“I should get dressed.” I step back, snapping up the towel and wrapping it around my hips, trying to put distance between us before I do something stupid like pull her back into my arms. “And you should probably …”
Go before I drink myself into oblivion because we can’t spend the next two days fucking like animals.
“Go,” she finishes for me. Sadness fills her eyes, and it guts me like a fucking fish. I’m such an asshole. I open my mouth to comment on it, to tell her I don’t really want her to go, but then she blinks, and it’s gone. “Yes. I should … I need to …”
She rises from the bed and starts to gather her things, her movements jerky and uncoordinated. I want to help, but I know touching her right now would be dangerous.
Instead, I watch her rip off her old gloves, which seems an almost intimate act in and of itself after what we just did. She slips into a fresh pair and checks them three times. Once in place, she quickly dresses and smooths her sweater exactly four times. I can tell anxiety, confusion, and maybe even fear are settling in, the impact of what we did, what I allowed to happen. She counts her steps to the door six times before actually reaching for the handle.
“Salem—”
“Don’t.” She doesn’t turn around. “Please don’t make this more awkward than it already is. We just got carried away. The medication, the adrenaline from Aries, you being … well …” She gestures vaguely at my towel. “It’s fine. We’re fine. Everything is still fine.”
She’s lying. I’m lying. We’re lying, and we both know it.