From that moment on, I fuck her hard, and I take her with everything in me. With my blood ringing in my ears and my vision blurring, I pump her. On some of the thrusts, my tip kisses her womb, which fills me with nearly unbearable pleasure. At every one of those brushes, her mouth forms an O, her eyelids come down, and her head falls back.
I keep banging into her. My cock, my body, my entire being is reduced to a single purpose now, a means to an end. The end is to get both of us to a point where we’re so ready, so wound up, that when the release arrives, it will feel like fireworks.
My awareness of Margot’s orgasm is triggered by a shaking in her thighs. She clamps down on me as her muscles quiver. Her pussy begins to contract around my dick, which is the next surefire sign. My own release looming, I drive harder into her. She comes and comes and comes, her wavy auburn hair fanning out like a halo around her flushed face.
I explode on her downward curve. She opens her eyes, unfixed and glazed from her orgasm. Staring into them, I rasp her name and begin to shoot cum.
Minutes later, I pull her into my embrace. She lays her head on my chest in a gesture so quintessentially feminine that no amount of egalitarian activism will ever take it out of the fairer sex.
The conversation we had about the Beauvoir-Sartre relationship comes to mind.
“Would you say that you get Simone a little better now?” I ask Margot.
“Now, meaning…?”
“Now that you fucked the man you disapprove of.”
“Perhaps, but…” After a moment’s hesitation, she says, “If anything, I despise her even more.”
“I don’t follow.”
Her fingers play with my chest hair. “Will it help if I told you that now I despise myself, too?”
“Nope. Still not following.”
“All the better.” She nestles up against me, kissing my pecs.
What a strange woman!Funny, beautiful, and sexy as hell. But very strange.
CHAPTER24
MARGOT
Something is different about Jonas when we wake up in the morning. The change isn’t earth-shattering, but it’s marked enough to ruffle my sensitive little feathers. He’s with me physically, but his mind is miles away, but not in a dreamy, head-in-the-clouds way. Quite the contrary.
As we awkwardly say good morning, and he gives me space to pull on my pajamas, he appears intensely focused.Just not on me.
Jonas opens the door a crack and peeks out. “The coast is clear.”
I dash to my room.
Showered and dressed half an hour later, I amble into the kitchen. It’s half-empty. Most of the cast and crew have already had their breakfast.
Peter greets me warmly. “Did you sleep well?”
“Very well, thank you.”
Averting my eyes, I pour myself a cup of coffee and grab a fresh croissant from the basket on the counter.
Peter scoots along the bench closer to me. “Why don’t I believe you?”
Panicking, I shift my gaze to him.
“You have dark circles under your eyes.” He studies my face. “Clearly, you didn’t sleep, because no matter how much you deny it, you’re traumatized from what happened on Thursday night.”
Phew.It’s about the attack. I realize I haven’t thought about it once since I knocked on Jonas’s door.
Peter points to the base of my neck. “And this mark must be from the attacker! I hadn’t noticed it yesterday. When did he try to strangle you? Why didn’t you mention it to the police?”
