“You’re the only one that I come for,” I huff out.
“Oh shit, your sweet little ass.” He’s no longer gentle as he keeps a firm grip on me, making sure my cheeks stay spread.
“Oh, fuck . . . oh, fuck . . .” He starts to lose control. “Touch yourself, Tara. I want you to come. I want you to fucking milk me while we both come.”
I’m so oversensitive; I feel every single centimeter of his engorged cock as he fucks me, every minuscule expansion and contraction of my tiny, abused rosebud.
I barely find my clit ring as he saws in and out of me.
“Come, baby,come,”he stresses the last command with his hips, his straining length tearing me wide open, “and tell me what I want to fucking hear.” CJ quakes behind me, as close to an orgasm as I am.
It doesn’t take much as my pussy is already throbbing, begging for another blinding release, dying from the exertion. The distraction.
I rub myself off until I’m grinding against both my hand and CJ’s cock, the two of us moaning out loud like wild animals.
“You going to come for me, baby?”
I gasp, consumed with pleasure. “You’re the only one I come for. You’re the only one I come for!” I proclaim as I fly off the hinges, screaming and crying as my entire lower bodythrobs.
“Fuck! Just me,” CJ grinds out as he comes. “Just. Fucking. Me.” He punctuates every word dominantly, matching the same rhythm of his punching cock.
We both collapse forward, our limbs quivering as we recover in a post orgasmic bliss. I close my eyes. CJ’s warm body blanketing mine as I fall straight into a deep sleep . . . Dreaming of diamonds and collars and dancing music notes.
I WAKE UP TO Anaked Tara tangled around me. I hug her tighter, and she releases a soft sigh against my neck. I melt like spun sugar in the sun.
I am so screwed. So, so, so, so, so fucking screwed, and so deliriously happy. What a goddamn mess. I demolished the invisible wall last night and have left us both vulnerable. The funny thing is, vulnerable has never felt so amazing.
The sudden sound of continuous beeping jolts Tara awake.
“Shit.” She curses disoriented as she scrambles out of bed to find her purse on the floor. She cuts the alarm as soon as she finds her phone at the bottom. I only know it was at the bottom because she fished around the bag, equally frustrated and tired before finally retrieving it with a sigh of relief.
“Good morning.” I smile down at her from the bed.
She looks up at me sleepily, her blonde hair tousled and covering half of her face. She blows a piece of it out of her eye and smiles. “Morning.”
“Are you going to come back to bed, or will we be having breakfast on the floor?”
“Neither, unfortunately. I have to go to work.”
“Work?” I grimace.
“Yes. You know that thing that normal people do.” She picks up her shirt from the floor and pulls it on.
“Are you implying I’m not normal?”
She fiddles with her new necklace, smiling when she remembers it’s there, and I swell quietly with pride.
“I’m implying that money doesn’t just multiply in most people’s bank account like it does in yours.”
“It doesn’t just multiply.” I laugh. “I work.”
“Oh yeah, you work.” She rolls her eyes. “On your tan in picturesque Hawaii.”
“Just because I live in one of the most beautiful places on earth, and I happen to be a successful entrepreneur,”bullshit,“doesn’t mean I don’t work.”
If she only knew how I ended up in Hawaii, she’d be singing a different tune. But she’s responding the way she should. The way I want her to perceive me. Laid-back, surfer entrepreneur is exactly the cover I want to portray.
“I make my money workforme, which is why you think it just multiplies on its own.”
