My cock erupts.
She struggles to keep up with the way it gushes, but I’m so intent I don’t realize until I finally step back and find her wiping my cum from her chin. Her flushed face and glittering eyes remind me who I’ve got on her knees. It’s satisfying as hell, but also something I’ll remember way too vividly.
Will I ever wear the old t-shirt again now that I’ve seen her in it? And risk wearing out the one souvenir I’ll have of this night? Not likely.
There are pearly drops near the t-shirt’s collar. “Shirt’s dirty. Take it off.”
Looking up, her expression is unreadable. Vulnerable, I guess. Dropping to a knee in front of her, I take the hem and start to lift it.
Her hands catch my forearms. “Can I keep it?”
My hands still. “Why?”
“Just… to have something on.” Her voice is soft, and if there was ever a woman who could make that work on me to maximal effect, it’s Laurel.
“Don’t know why you think you need it.” I let the fabric drop from my grip. “Lie on the bed on your belly.”
She shudders, and the spell we’re trapped in fades a little. “Don’t be rough, all right?”
“Not if you behave,” I promise.
Her eyes rise to mine and hold. I feel that look in my chest, suspiciously close to the pump that keeps me alive. It’s not a place I want her claws again. Catching her chin, I turn her face toward the foot of the bed. “Get moving.”
Drawing in a breath, she rises. When she reaches the bed, she doesn’t so much crawl in as collapse onto the mattress. It’s a move that hits me just right. She’s given up fighting me, at least for the moment.
Digging through the nightstand, I find the aloe numbing lotion. Sitting next to her outstretched body, I lower her underwear to her knees. She barely reacts, only shivering slightly. My squeezing the lotion onto her skin causes her to look over her shoulder.
I start by massaging her back, then work slowly down to her ass. She hisses, though I’m not sure if it’s from pain or relief. Maybe both. Under my fingers, her flesh is hot and swollen. Purplish red bruises crest over the highest peaks of her globes. She won’t sit for days, and when she tries to, or even walks, I’ll be on her mind. I’m sure no one’s ever disciplined her before. How she’s going to feel about us tomorrow or the next day? Will she feel like I made her mine? Because possessive is how I feel when I look at those marks, like I didn’t just do something to her, I did something to us both.
My hand drifts between her thighs. Her slight movement makes me growl low in my throat. “Be still.” Her slit’s slippery and my mouth’s parched, wanting a taste. Closing my eyes, I let myself go back to the last time I handled her this way. Her legs straddling my hips, her nipple in my mouth while I fingered her until she moaned my name and came, leaving my fingers slick and sticky. I’d been inches away from putting my cock up her virgin pussy. When I found I’d forgotten to replace the condom in my wallet, I came in her mouth instead, but I still regret that empty fucking wallet. My cock could’ve been her pussy’s first. Shouldn’t matter, since it was my decision to not win her back when I could’ve. And yet, when her basketball player boyfriend bragged to his buddies he popped her cherry later in the year, I picked a fight with him at a party, taunting him into taking a swing at me. Once the fight was on, I went after him like he’d killed Laurel, not fucked her. It took Anvil’s colossal mitts to drag me off. Could’ve killed that asshole with my bare hands.
I lied about the reason for the fight, but I’m pretty sure Laurel knew. She broke up with him soon after, and I tortured myself with the idea that she did it to protect him. From then on I stayed far away from her and her boyfriends, knowing I couldn’t trust myself not to get jealous.
* * *
Trick
I wake to the burner’s ringing. Blurry-eyed from sleep, it takes a second to confirm it’s C again. “Yeah?”
“She gone?”
“Not yet. Today though. In an hour or two.” I don’t mean it. Her shiny dark hair’s spilling over my arm and shoulder, and her soft breasts are pillowed against my side, giving me ideas about how I should spend my day.
“Too long.” C’s tone is grave, but it takes a couple of seconds for me to register what he’s telling me.
“Yeah? Why’s that, C?”
“Her friends from Boston are in town.”
Pounding on the front door draws my sharp attention.
Fuck.
“Gotta go.” I end the call, erase the call log, and toss the burner in a drawer. Then I shake Laurel. Her green eyes are heavy-lidded and sleepy. We just got to sleep an hour ago.
“Get dressed, babe. Find a pair of sweats in my dresser.” Lifting her shoulders to urge her into action, I add, “Up now.”
More pounding, and the feds announce themselves and their warrant.
