Chapter 12
Iwake up, surprised to find Andie gone from bed and showering, especially because we were at the club until midnight. This time, I made sure to fuck her before we left to take the edge off. I’ll be damned if I let her become a part of anyone else’s fantasies again. Double damned if I let them become a part of hers. When I fuck her, I want to be the only one she sees.
Though I almost caved to my dick several times. I barely made it as late as we did. All I could think about was bringing her up, having her change out of the long black gown and into one of the new jeans I got for her.
A smile tugs at my lips as I think about the pair of Guccis lying in tatters on the office floor.
Fuck. I roll onto my back and fist my swelling cock. I’m not trying to jack myself off, just teasing. Getting ready for Andie. With me already naked and hard, all I need is her.
She’s in the bathroom for a while, though. Long enough that I sit up and stare at the door, wondering if she’s not actually there.
“Andie?” I call out.
“Yeah, I’m…” I can’t make out the rest. But a few minutes later, she appears wearing a new pair of jeans. Her hair is up in a messy bun and her cheeks pink, as if she just scrubbed the hell out of them.
I smile and extend my hand. “Come back to bed.”
She shakes her head and leans against the doorjamb. Her eyes are downcast, nervous. “I have something to tell you.”
Every muscle in my body tenses as I take her in and realize I made a mistake. Her hair is not in a messy bun, but a disheveled ponytail, as if she’s been tugging at it for a while. And her cheeks aren’t scrubbed, but flushed red, as are her eyes. In her hand, there’s a small packet of something, and she’s turning it over and over.
Throwing the blankets off, I go to stand in front of her. “What is it?”
“I…” Again, she shakes her head. “It’s my birth control. I forgot to take it the last couple of days and I’m not sure how… It’s not something I usually worry about because I don’t have sex that often. I’m sure nothing would happen, but you have… Inside me.”
I frown as I try to make sense of what she’s saying. “Are you afraid I could have gotten you pregnant?”
“I mean, I don’t think it could have happened with only that, but I?—”
Laughter erupts from me and she blinks up. I place my palms on her shoulders. “Nothing would happen even if you stopped taking them completely, Andie. I can’t have kids.”
The little lines between her brows appear. “What do you mean?”
Smoothing them out with my thumb, I say casually, “I had a vasectomy years ago.”
She lets her gaze rove over me. “But, you’re only thirty-eight. Do you have children already?”
“No.”
“Don’t you ever want any?”
I shrug and go to the sit on the bed and pat the spot next to me. When she comes, I stroke her arm. “I knew early on what I wanted to do with my life, and a family isn’t it. Especially the children part. My business is too important to risk.”
“You believe a family is a risk.” It’s a statement.
“In my world? Yes. I would never have gotten to where I am if I had to split my time. Not to mention the vulnerability they present for someone with powerful enemies.”
“Mmm, I see now.” She purses her lips as if she’s piecing something together in my mind.
“You don’t agree with me.”
She peers at her feet and shrugs too. “Our lives are so different, Gavin. You might be right. Maybe kids are a risk and a vulnerability. I’ve certainly considered where I’d be if I didn’t have Lola. What I’d be doing right now if she hadn’t been born and I had only myself to worry about. But the answer is always the same.”
“What’s that?”
She looks back at me. “I’d be… here.”
I don’t understand her reply, and certainly not the sadness that comes over her features, as if she’s feels bad for me, maybe even pities me a little. It’s on the tip of my tongue to demand clarification. But she must sense it because she cups my cheek and leans in to press her lips to mine and makes me forget what I was about to ask.
The kiss grows from soft to hungry instantly. I roll her over onto her back, and press her hands into the mattress.
“These jeans need to be torn off,” I growl as I nip my way to her neck.
She chuckles and squirms beneath me. “No! Let me wear them at least one day. I’ve never had such nice pants.”
“I’ll get you new ones.” I sit up and make to grab a knife from the nightstand.
“Please, Gavin. Just tug them off for now. Later you can fulfill whatever dirty fantasy you have going on.”
“Fine.” I unbutton them and she assists in the process of getting them down her legs. Her panties too.
She’s not quite ready for me, but it doesn’t take much to get her slippery. I shove her shirt over her breasts and bite her nipples the way I know makes her pant. It makes me pant too, the feel of them in my mouth, against my tongue. I love how they go from silken soft to hard pebbles.
I graze her belly with my palm as I reach between us to touch her cunt. It’s wet, so fucking slick.
Fisting my cock, I slide it up and down her slit. Once, twice. Then I’m inside and she feels so fucking good I have to stop almost immediately. I want her to come. I need her to come.
So I take my time, alternating between long slow strokes, and fast powerful ones. When I near my climax, I pause to kiss her and lick my way over her abdomen to her pussy. I draw small circles around her little clit and feel it swell in my mouth. When her cries become gasps and her fists claw at the sheets, I go back to fucking her again.
It’s the third round of this when I sense she’s there, at the edge of the precipice. All it will take are a few more thrusts.
She’s gasping, her head thrown to the side, her eyes wide open. But when she turns to me as she writhes beneath, she screws them shut. And something inside me, a dominant part, doesn’t like it. It reminds me too much of the night at the club, when her focus was on the crowd.
“Look at me,” I order, because I need to see the awareness that’s it’s me between her legs. Me that’s giving her pleasure. When she doesn’t comply, I repeat, “Look at me, Andie.”
She swallows and slowly turns her head toward me. As if her lids were being pried open, they lift forcibly. Her pupils turn to mere pinpricks in a sea of cerulean when she focuses on me.
My male pride swells when she lets out a cry as I begin to pump into her harder. She squirms under me, her nails digging into my shoulders, and her moans get louder.
But it’s when she begins to shake, her gaze wide, and her cries soften, that I realize something’s wrong. Still moving inside her, I slow down enough to take in every aspect of her expression. And I freeze.
She’s not staring at me, but through me, her eyes filled with fear. Her cries aren’t cries of ecstasy, but sobs of pain. And her nails aren’t digging into my skin, but rather her fingers are curled from whatever terror she’s experiencing.
“Andie.” She doesn’t reply, but continues to weep quietly. “Andie!” Still, no response.
In a flash, I’m off her. I wrap the blanket around her and bring her to my chest tightly. I place my hand over her eyes, hoping to shut out whatever it is that she was seeing, even if that’s me.
I’m not sure how long we sit that way, with her in my arms and me rocking her. It’s long enough that her trembling ebbs and her soft cries turn into hard sobs, and back.
After a while, she calms and pushes herself away from me. She peers up at me, her cheeks tear streaked, nose red.
“It wasn’t you,” she answers my unasked question.
“Then what was it?”
She wipes her cheeks almost angrily and turns her face from me. Standing, she starts for the bathroom. And before she disappears through the door, she says, “Never ask me to look at you again while we fuck. Not if you want to keep me as your fantasy.”