It’s covered when she’s clothed.
And it’s for me.
“You marked yourself for me.”
She doesn’t reply, and I’ve never been harder in my goddamn life. I start to move again, more punishing than before. Because I’mso fucking angry.
I slap her ass, then grip onto her side. My hand covers the ink as if I can soak it into myself. When her pussy ripples around me as her climax works through her again, she pulls me with her, and I come inside her.
Fuck, I just came inside her.
But I can’t bring myself to be sorry.
When I pull out, I tug her panties up, keeping my cum exactly where it belongs. She’s panting, still leaning on the counter, and I know it’s because I haven’t given her permission to move.
Such a good wildfire.
One of the things that I loved about Juliet was how submissive she was to me. I’m dominant by nature, and she always followed my directionsperfectly.
It seems that hasn’t changed.
“You can get dressed.”
She immediately moves into action, pulls up her shorts, then reaches for her bra and shirt as I tuck myself away, wondering what in the hell I’m supposed to do now.
I fucked up.
Yet I’m not sorry. Because for the first time in fifteen years, I feel alive.
Not one word comes from her beautiful mouth as she finishes dressing, and then without a word to me, she sets off for the door.
“Jules.”
She doesn’t look back. She doesn’t acknowledge me at all.
She simply leaves.
“Fuck!”
I stomp my feet, pacing back and forth, until I finally close up the garage, grab the food, and go home. The house is dark and silent as I walk through to the kitchen and set the bag down. I can still smell her on me. I can feel her soft skin, see that tattoo.
She made me dinner because she felt guilty and grateful, and she brought it to me.
And what did I do?
“I fucked her six ways to Sunday.” I shake my head and pull the contents out of the bag, and my stomach growls. I haven’t eaten since lunch, and it might be almost midnight, but I’m not about to waste my wildfire’s food.
I eat every delicious bite, toss the packaging, and then go to my bathroom and take a shower.
I shouldnothave fucked her.
But I couldn’t help myself. And she didn’t say no.
I’m full of self-loathing when I step out of the shower and dry off. Because she might not have said no, but I didn’t handle it with any kind of finesse. And that makes me an asshole.
I want to know about the tattoo.
His wildfire.
