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“Don’t,” I warn. It’s not an indication that she shouldn’t be doing it but a warning of what’s to come if she keeps going.
My cock, the overeager bastard begins to thicken as the head on my shoulders starts that battle between don’t do it because you’re going to get hurt and fuck her until she means nothing to you.
Thinking the first is pointless because I mean, come on. Parker is getting naked in front of me.
I don’t stand a chance at the second because there isn’t enough time left in my lifetime to ever see that happen.
“Parker,” I groan when the corset falls to the floor and her fingers work open the button on her jeans. The rasp of her zipper might as well be the final nail in my coffin because this woman is sure to kill me tonight.
“Get naked,” she whispers, her command washing over me like a soothing balm over sunburned skin.
And that’s exactly what she does. She’s fire and pain and utter perfection—a trauma that she heals only momentarily before hurting again.
My hands start to move before my brain gives the command, making me realize I don’t have as much control as I thought. Even though I told myself over and over that I was ending it as I drove to her job, I knew I could never go through with it. There’s no chance of putting an end to this now, but maybe if I know it’s going to be the last time, it’ll make it easier tomorrow.
My t-shirt is discarded first, then nimble fingers begin to work open my own jeans as she kicks hers away.
“Leave them on,” I hiss when she begins to push the lace down her hips.
I need some sort of barrier. Plus, women who hurt people, even unknowingly, don’t deserve to be completely bare. I don’t know that I’d be able to stick to my resolution if I see every inch of her.
“Bend over the end of the couch,” I snap, my anger coming to a rolling boil so quickly I can’t keep it from coming to light. “I’ll be back.”
I head to my room, swiping a condom from the bedside table and roll it down my dick on the way back to the living room.
Jesus, her ass is perfection, up in the air, panties pulled to the side, slit glistening and ready.
She needed to fuck through something last week, and I denied her. I sent her away, and here I am about to do the very same thing to her. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to open up and present my soft underbelly to her. I need to take, to use, to forget, and I fucking hate myself for it.
“This is the last time,” I warn.
“Of course, it is,” she says over her shoulder, eyes bright with disbelief in my words.
“I’m serious—oh fuck.”
The slide inside of her is no different from every other time despite my anger. It’s slick, hot, and so fucking good.
She whimpers when I stab into her, meeting the end and trying to push a little past her ability. I pull back, knowing I can’t hurt her. Deep down it’s my own pain I want gone, my own anguish that I need relief from, and causing the same for her won’t bring any form of respite.
I won’t find it tonight, and if I’m being brutally honest with myself, I don’t know that I ever will. What I do know is that she’s going to be one hard woman to forget.
“Jude,” she groans, her hand coming back to grip my hip, making me realize I’ve frozen.
Pulling back, I thrust forward, wanting to get what I need and leave her wanting. If she doesn’t get the relief she came here in search of then maybe—“No,” I spit. “No more.”
“Yes,” she whimpers. “Harder.”
“No more orgasms. No more showing up to teach me. No more blow jobs in the shower. No more licking you until you come. None. After. This. It’s. Over.”
She tenses, and I’m not even sure she heard any of that over her own moans, but it was for me, my new mantra, not really meant for her. I have to be the strong one. I have to be the one able to walk away. My heart is on the line, not hers.
I’m a notch, an easy target. I don’t say no. Yes is always on my lips where she’s concerned.
“Fuck,” I belt, pulling out of her and taking a step back. “Ride me.”
I drop down to the couch, tucking my hands under my thighs because touching her would be too much. Touching her would open the door for longing, for looking into her eyes, and all I have right now is pain.
It makes no sense. Deep down I know that I’m a lunatic for getting attached, for craving her, for being willing to break every rule ever written for this woman. It’s been weeks, not months, not years.
