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Kicking open my bedroom door, I don’t stop until we reach my king-size bed. “I need your lips,” I say gruffly, and she complies, pulling her mouth from my neck and opening for me. Our kiss is urgent as my tongue battles with hers.
She tugs at my shirt. Pulling out of the kiss, I set her on the bed, allowing me to pull my shirt over my head. “Arms up.” She smiles as she lifts her arms over her head, waiting for me to undress her.
Her shirt joins mine somewhere on the floor. I drink in the sight of her. Her long blonde hair cascades over her shoulders. Reaching out, I run my fingers over the silky strands. My index finger traces the strap of her bra, trailing to the mounds of her breasts. They’re just the right size to fit nicely in the palm of my hands. Just the thought has my palms itching to feel their weight. Her bra, a green lacey number, has a clasp in the front, which is perfect. With deft fingers, I snap open the clasp and carefully, as if she were made of glass, remove each breast one by one, sucking her puckered nipples into my mouth.
“That. Definitely do more of that,” she pants, tilting her head back, exposing her neck.
Giving my girl what she wants, I lavish her breasts, kneading them in the palms of my hands, tasting them with my tongue. I know this is what she likes. Her breasts are like an on switch to her sex drive. It’s one I’d like to leave on all the time.
Tearing my mouth from her, I look up to find her watching me. “Stand up.” I need her naked sooner rather than later. Offering her my hand, I help her stand. I step back, cataloguing every move she makes as she strips out of her jeans and panties, kicking them across the room.
“Mark.” I pull my attention from her breasts to find her smiling softly. “You’re overdressed.”
I chuckle and make quick work of stripping what’s left of my clothes. Reaching into the nightstand, I grab a condom and cover my cock. Dawn moves further up on the bed, and I climb over the top of her.
“Wait,” she says, and I freeze. She turns over and braces her weight on her hands and knees.
I move in behind her, palming her ass, loving the way that it feels in my hands. She pushes back into me, causing my cock to be smashed against us. “Patience.” I chuckle. Fisting my cock, I run it through her wet heat before pushing inside her. Her back arches and a low deep moan fills the room. Slowly, I pump in and out of her.
“Mark.” She pushes back hard and I’m deep. So fucking deep. “More,” she demands.
I pull out and then back in. My grip on her waist is firm, yet yielding as I try not to hurt her.
She again pushes back against me and grinds her hips. “Faster,” she stresses. As if she needs to show me, she quickens her pace, sliding herself off and on my cock. My grip tightens as her walls grip me. The tight grasp has me clenching my jaw tightly, and I pull her back hard and fast.
“Ahh!” she screams and I still.
Leaning over her, I kiss her neck. “I’m sorry,” I murmur. I’m being too rough. I trail kisses over her bare shoulder, trying to get my shit under control. I don’t want to hurt her.
“No. No, no, no,” she says, shaking her head. Fuck. I start to slide out of her, but she pushes back, stopping me. “Don’t. I’m not made of glass. I want you, all of you. I want you to fuck me,” she says again. Her voice is clear and firm, with zero hesitation.
“Dawn, I….” My voice trails off when she does that magical thing she does so well and squeezes my cock.
“Please,” she begs.
Leaning back over her, I place my lips next to her ear. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You’re hurting me by not giving me all of you. You’re holding back, and I want it all. Give me everything.”
There is something in her voice, something that tells me she’s talking about more than just sex. Maybe we’re on the same page after all. “You tell me to stop if it’s too much. I need you to promise me you’ll tell me to stop.”
“I need you to promise me that you’re going to give me all of you.”
“Pixie,” I warn.
“Fine, I promise. Now do the damn thing,” she says, with laughter in her voice. I don’t try to hold in the laugh that escapes me. I smack her ass playfully, and she moans. “Finally,” she taunts.
My hands on her hips, I pull out then thrust back in. I repeat the motion over and over again, each time going deeper and harder. She’s moaning, and the walls of her pussy are squeezing my cock like a vise. It’s as if my body is on autopilot as I chase my release.
“There, Mark, there, please don’t… don’t stop,” she gasps.
Before I can tell her that I have no plans on stopping, she screams out my name as her orgasm breaks free. The feel of her release is too much, and I follow along behind her. Careful of my weight, I lean over her body, kiss her bare shoulder, and then roll to my side, taking her with me. My cock is still buried deep inside her as I bury my face in her neck.
“That,” she wheezes, “we need to do that again.”
A breathless laugh breaks from my chest. “I need some recovery time after that one.” Her pussy squeezes me. “Minx.” I give her hip a gentle squeeze. Her soft laughter meets my ears.
“Thank you.”
“Never thank me for that.”
“I know you didn’t want to.”
“Oh, I wanted to. I was just afraid of hurting you.”
“You would never hurt me.”
Again, it feels as though her words have a double meaning. “Never,” I say adamantly, kissing her shoulder. “I’ll be right back.” Reluctantly, I slide from her body and climb out of bed to handle the condom. I wash up and take her a washrag to clean her up as well. “Hey,” I whisper, sitting on the edge of the bed. Her eyes flutter open. “Open for me.” I tap her leg.
“You’re always taking care of me,” she mumbles.
“I’m good at it,” I say, kissing her forehead. I make quick work of cleaning her up as well as I can. After tossing the wet cloth into the hamper, I slide in bed behind her. I pull her into me and bury my face in her neck. I’ve never been much of a cuddler, but with Dawn, it’s like I can’t control it. I want to be as close to her as possible all the time. It’s not long before her even breaths lull me to sleep.
Chapter Three
Dawn
It’s been a week since I asked Mark if we could talk. A week of me pretending like I didn’t ask him. He’s mentioned it a couple of times, and I keep blowing him off, telling him we’ll talk this weekend. Part of me is fearful that what we have will end and I’ll need some time to recover. No one wants to go to work the next day with eyes puffy from tears. At least I don’t. It’s an excuse and I know it, but it’s all I’ve got. My phone vibrates across the bathroom counter. Glancing down, I see a new message alert with Mark’s name.
Mark: I’m headed your way. I don’t want to stay long. We need to have that talk
you’ve been avoiding.
He’s persistent. I’m being a coward, and we both know it. Tonight, we’ll talk, and if we end up parting ways, then it’s for the best. I know that. I know I deserve to be with someone who wants the same future as I do. Someone who wants that future with me. I want that person to be Mark.
Me: Sounds like a plan.
Mark: No more blowing me off?
He’s calling my bluff, and I need that. I need him to make me have this conversation. It’s going to drive me insane until I know where he stands. Sure, we’ve only been intimate for a few months. However, we’ve been hanging out just the two of us a hell of a lot longer than that. Over a year. Sex just made me grow closer to him.
Me: It’s nothing bad. I’m just… hesitant I guess.
Mark: You can tell me anything.
Me: I know. I’ll see you soon.
Tossing my phone back on the counter, I finish applying a thin layer of mascara and call it good. I know what he’s saying is true. Never has he made me feel as though I can’t talk to him. The reluctance is all on me. I’m fearful of losing him. Confrontation leads to losi
ng those you love, at least in my experience.
My high school boyfriend is the perfect example. We were both headed off to college. He was going to California while I stayed close to home. We needed to discuss how we were going to handle it. We’d been dating since sophomore year. I assumed we would stay together; he had other plans. He broke my heart. I’ve pretty much steered clear of serious relationships since then. Well, until Mark. We’ve not defined us as serious, but that’s how I see us.
Then there’s my little sister, Destiny, who offers a whole different level of hurt and anxiety. I knew something was off, had a feeling deep in my gut. I was a senior and she was a freshman. I heard the rumors and knew the crowd she was hanging with. I confronted her and she lied to me. Said she was fine. She continued to withdraw even further, and I did what I had to do and told my parents. We confronted her as a family. She denied using drugs and sleeping around. She blamed me. That was the first time she ran away. She was gone for two weeks. When she showed back up, she was a mess, filthy and strung out. She was begging for money for her next fix. My parents sent her to rehab. She made it six months that first time before she started using again. I’ve lost count of the number of times they’ve sent her. She has to want to help herself, and at this point, I’m not sure she ever will.
Turning the bathroom light off, I make my way toward the living room. Grabbing my purse, I make sure I have everything I need and tap my back pocket making sure my phone is there. I survey my apartment, and it’s tidy, which is easy to do when you live alone. I scroll through social media for a few minutes until a knock sounds at the door. I know that knock.
