“Are you wet?” I ask several long minutes later, confident I have her on the verge of begging. She’s fiddling in her seat, wafting up the erotic scent keeping my cock firm.
While licking her parched lips, Isabelle nods. I don’t need words to confirm my suspicions. Her panties are so wet, they’re see-through. I rub at the vein feeding my monster dick when I consider how throbbing her clit most likely is. I bet it is buzzing with so much need, I’d only need to flick it once to send her freefalling over the edge.
I stroke my cock faster, loving how something as simple as watching me please myself has her on the verge of a climax. I love how insatiable she is around me and how one touch will never be enough, but I hate the shroud of secrecy tainting us even more so, which leaves me no choice but to slap Isabelle’s hand away when it inches toward my cock’s glistening crown.
“Please let me touch you,” she begs, unashamed by the sheer pleading in her tone.
“I wanted to touch you today.” I take my hand to the very base of my cock, pushing the zipper in my pants even further down, which exposes another two inches of my veiny shaft. “Even just your lips on mine, but I was denied. Now, I’m denying you the same opportunity.”
“That isn’t fair,” Isabelle immediately fires back. “I got reprimanded for being late to work becauseIgave in toyourpleas this morning.”
I brush off her claims that this is about her standing me up for lunch with a shrug.
It is much,muchdeeper than that.
With her cheeks as red as her panties, Isabelle attempts to scoot to the far side of the leather seat. I say attempt because before she can get a foot away from me, I seize her ankle, then drag her back until she is sitting even closer to me than she was before she tried to flee.
She doesn’t get to run.
She lost the chance to run when I claimed her as mine.
But before I can tell her that, she lashes out with angry words and an influx of moisture in her eyes. “You are being cruel. You’re taking your anger out on the wrong person!”
A snapshot of the anger I faced when Hunter sent me a picture of my mother entering a hotel on Jared’s arm flashes before my eyes a mere second before a tear drops down Isabelle’s face. As another three tears join the first one, I recall everything that happened today, but instead of forcing Isabelle into every scene, I recall how she wasn’t a part of any incident responsible for my foul mood.
I assumed they were based on her, but I have no proof of that, and the fact I jumped to conclusions makes me nothing but an ass.
With my heart down the gurgler and my cock rapidly deflating, I pluck Isabelle off her seat and pull her onto my lap. “Please don’t cry,” I mutter while clearing away her tears with my thumbs.
This was not my intention. I wanted to bend her will, not snap it.
When Isabelle leans into me deeper, a faint moan tumbles from her mouth. I’m not as hard as I was while using her seductive body as inspiration to unravel her, but thick enough for her libido to pay attention.
With my hooded gaze locked on her once-again dry eyes, I slip her panties to the side, brace the head of my cock against the opening of her pussy, then once her eyes grant me permission I don’t deserve, I slowly enter her.
Her pussy massages my cock as I drop my focus to my dress shirt. I undo the buttons, fan open the damp-with-sweat material, then place Isabelle’s hands on my thrusting chest while issuing silent apology after silent apology.
I’m ruthless in business because I need to be, but that logic shouldn’t extend to my private life.
As I make love to Isabelle with my eyes, my cock slowly guides her toward a blistering yet still controlled orgasm that revitalizes the spark in her eyes I so cruelly stole. She whispers my name in a breathless moan as a pink hue extends from the swell of her breasts to the back of her neck.
It is a beautiful image. So inspiring, after a handful more pumps, I surrender to the tension tethering my soul to earth. Cum erupts from my cock in raring spurts, adding to the shimmer keeping Isabelle’s thoughts far from the dark and tormented space I tried to thrust them into.
“Oh god,” she babbles under her breath before resting her flushed cheek onto my still thrusting chest.
She’s exhausted, but I have an inkling not all of it stems from the lovemaking session we just undertook. She is as emotionally drained as me, and proof of this is apparent when after only a handful of blinks, her eyes remain shut, and her faint breaths ripple in the tiny beads of sweat on my chest.
I drag my hand down her hair, flattening the frizz our romp caused for almost five minutes before a familiar turn shifts my focus to the window next to my head. We’re only minutes from home.
Careful not to wake Isabelle, I fish my cell phone out of my pocket and send Hugo a message requesting him to take the long route home. After watching him complete an illegal U-turn, I switch my focus to correct the mistakes I made.
First on the list are the ones I made with Isabelle, then I’ll move on to my mother. If I hadn’t let her choices guide mine tonight, I wouldn’t have hurt Isabelle. Knowledge of that makes my voice smooth and precise while instructing Hunter to dispose of the file locked in the bottom drawer of my office at the Dungeon.
“Burn it or shred it. I don’t care. I just want it gone before I return to my office tomorrow morning.” I breathe out some of the heaviness on my chest before finalizing, “Also…” I double-check that Isabelle is still sleeping before whispering, “Cancel my earlier request. The information I wanted is no longer required.”
Hunter’s silence is very telling. He’s confused as much as he is shocked.
I do my best to alleviate his confusion. “Ophelia will always be a part of me, but she is my past. Isabelle is my future.”
