He yanks my body up by an inch, and I have to shift my grip on his chest to keep from falling. He pulls me up and down on his cock, abandoning all illusions of me being in control. He uses my body to chase his pleasure.
Blood pounds in my ears and my head falls back. I never imagined James would let himself be like this. I didn't think he was capable of letting go of his self-control, but here he is, using me to take what he wants.
I love it. It's like the storm awakened something in both of us.
“Right there,” I gasp. “God, James, rightthere.”
He angles his hips, dragging me down on his cock so that he hits that spot again, and my nails dig into his chest hard enough to leave marks.
“You feel that?” He thrusts again, grinding against my clit. “That spot that makes you clench so tight around me?”
“Yes.”
“That's mine now. Every time I fuck you, I'm going to find it. Every time I'm inside you, I'm going to make you feel this.”
“Fuck. It’s so deep. So…good.”
“Now, touch yourself,” he demands through gritted teeth.
I bring two fingers to my clit, gathering the slickness I’m pouring onto his hips and stroking the sensitive bundle of nerves. I’m already so turned on, my hips jolt erratically against my fingers. My muscles tighten with hot, consuming pleasure.
“Come for me, Maura,” James rasps, and my body obeys. Pleasure roars under my skin in all-consuming waves, making my ears ring and my eyes squeeze shut. All I can do is endure it as my orgasm devours me, drawing me under.
As soon as he feels me coming, James comes unleashed. He moves my body like I’m his puppet, pulling my weight up and down his length and fucking me from underneath. He pummels up into me like he can’t stop himself. Like he doesn’twantto stop himself.
Which is perfect, because I don’t want him to stop, either.
Sex has never felt so vital or so destructive. I’m shattering like my rocks, into glistening dust ready to blow away in the wind. I’m going to be bruised, sore, and ruined when we’re finished, and the thought of that turns me on even more.
James growls, and that’s all the warning he gives me before he rolls me on my back. His body is deliciously heavy on mine. His teeth drag against my neck as he mutters in my ear, “Take every fucking drop of me.”
His filthy words undo me. When his cock drags against the perfect spot inside me, I’m coming again, my legs gripping his hips as he fills me in long spurts. I cling to him as his body goes limp over mine, and for a long moment, we lie tangled together, breathless and spent.
After a while, he rolls off me, his broad chest heaving like he’s spent the last half hour sprinting instead of fucking me boneless. I almost laugh because I’m breathing just as hard as he is, and I didn’t do even close to as much work as him. We lie quietlynext to each other as we come down, and I’m sure his heart is thudding just as hard as my broken one is.
What we just did feels different. It was wild, hungry, uncontrolled. We might have come into this marriage looking for a convenient partnership, but maybe it could grow into something more. James isn’t my soulmate or anything, but maybe it wouldn’t be too bad to let myself want him physically.
“Well.” James’s voice sounds clipped. “That was unplanned. I doubt it’ll lead to a baby, but at least our natural chemistry might make our relationship look more natural to people and help with optics.”
A shiver runs over my skin, a sudden flash of cold. I’m instantly aware that I’m still wrapped in freezing cold wet clothes, and the warmth of James’s body, which made that bearable, is far away. Technically it’s only a foot or so, but it feels like a mile of rough terrain.
For me, the sex we just had was bone-melting, body-melding perfection. For him, it was just…a task. A chance to do his duty and fulfil the contract. That’s what it should have been for me, too. I chose someone I wouldn’t get too attached to, and who wouldn’t get too attached to me.
So why do I feel like I’m standing alone at the edge of a cliff?
James glances over at me, and I realize that he's waiting for me to say something in response. “Yeah,” I mutter. The only word that comes to mind. What else am I supposed to say?For one short, deluded moment, I thought you might really want me?
He pushes up on his elbows. “We could always schedule more time like this, outside your ovulation cycle, if you think it would up your pregnancy chances.”
I cringe. This is too humiliating to bear. My own husband is offering to schedule some pity fucks for me, since I couldn'tmanage to get pregnant in the first month. I just can't sit here and listen to this any longer.
“Don’t bother,” I snap. “I won’t disrupt your perfect schedule again. We’ll stick to the calendar. Wouldn’t want to keep you from your precious work.”
His eyes widen in confusion, and he opens his mouth to say something. I don’t want to hear it. Spinning on my heel, I storm upstairs into my bedroom and slam the door behind me. I peel off my wet clothes and toss them in a pile on the floor.
As I turn on the shower, I catch my reflection in the mirror, and my eyes drop automatically to the scar across my chest. The reminder that I’m broken—that I only have so much time before my body gives up on me and shuts down completely.
I wait till the water is scalding hot before I step into the shower. Then, it doesn’t matter whether the wetness on my face comes from my furious tears.
