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“Oh, I bet this is what you want.” He rammed into her, up to the hilt, then eased off as he worked his finger up into her ass again.
“Master, no!”
So fucking full. She wasn’t even embarrassed anymore. If he didn’t help her come soon she was going to scream.
Banner held his position for a moment, letting her body adjust, then started a rhythm, thrusting his cock into her, then withdrawing, only to fuck her ass with his thick finger. Caught, she couldn’t do anything but accept his use. He stopped for a moment, and the speed of the vibe intensified.
Her orgasm clutched at her—she tried to hold off, panting, her own noise loud in her ears.
Suddenly, his hand was buried in her hair, and he crushed her to the bed, fucking her hard and fast. The orgasm spiraled out of control. He took her, making her come so hard she couldn’t see or hear, only feel what he allowed her to feel. She was screaming, but the growl coming from him was almost deafening.
“Mine . . . Fucking mine! Do you understand me?” His body froze above her, and she felt him empty into her, triggering her into another orgasm.
She couldn’t escape him. He made her feel every clench and flutter and aftershock.
She whimpered beneath him.
Used. Broken.
His.
***
The first thing she noticed before she even opened her eyes was a sticky feeling between her legs. Reluctantly, she lifted her lids.
Banner’s ceiling.
Groggy and half-asleep, it took a moment to remember what she was doing in his bed. Her body felt sore and used.
Used.
That was exactly what had happened.
With a groan, she forced her achy body to move. She rolled Banner’s heavy arm off of her hip, where it felt as if he were holding her captive. The clock next to the bed read “too fucking early in the morning.”
Panic struck fast and hard. Didn’t she have to work today? It subsided slightly when she realized she had an afternoon shift. She could spend the morning recovering. Moving her legs reminded her of the mess they’d made the night before.
Ugh. Shower first.
Banner was still asleep beside her. His snore sounded like an earthquake and shook the bed. Looking at his body, the sheet only barely covering his hips, was like studying a piece of art. Chiseled muscle, smooth skin, even his body hair seemed perfectly in place.
It was too bad they didn’t match up better. Bringing him to a high school reunion would be a hell of a lot of fun.
She gave her head a shake. Wake up and smell the after-sex, Kate.
Banner didn’t want her. He’d tried to pawn her off last night, and then he’d fucked her senseless as soon as his friends had stepped out of the door. He wanted to use her, but not keep her. She was sex material, not girlfriend material. When was she going to get it through her head and finally let him go? She was hurting only herself now. And here she thought she wasn’t a masochist.
Tears pricked her eyes. How had she gotten in this downward cycle of self-abuse? Disgusted with herself, she suddenly couldn’t stand being in bed with him. She was such a sucker. Weak and desperate. And to let all those guys see her almost naked—to sit on their laps and probably add her to their spank bank— Fuck! Stupid, slutty girl.
“Mortified” was too weak of a word to describe it. Tears streaming from her eyes, she stood up and looked for her clothes. She slipped them on as she found them strewn about the room. Banner slept through it. At least she didn’t have an audience for her walk of shame.
Silently, she made her way up the stairs in search of her purse. By the time she got to her car she was in a full-on ugly cry. She swiped at her eyes, clearing the blur so she could drive. Then she peeled out of the driveway. She checked her rearview mirror, half expecting to see Banner waving her down at the end of the drive, but it was empty. Maybe he’d heard her leave and hadn’t cared. She didn’t know if she was relieved or not.
Somehow, she managed to stop crying, shower, and scarf down something to eat before work. Her body felt slow and limp, every movement as if she were fighting through quicksand. She must just be tired. Her emotions during the last twenty-four hours were out of control. Last night, she’d felt high, as if she could do anything, be anything. She’d felt sexy and desired and invincible. Now, her eyes were faucets, leaking tears when she least expected it. How was she going to get through work like this?
Was this all because of Banner? Was it the dinner with his friends? She wasn’t PMSing, so why did she feel so broken?
On her way to work, she managed to pull herself together. Her job depended on her being professional, not a sobbing mess. She was strong, objective, never showing inappropriate emotion. That was her role. When other counselors had bad days and cried in the bathroom, took personal leave, or went home sick, Kate was always there to cover for them. She’d called out sick once in the last year, and it had been because she’d nearly been hospitalized from food poisoning.
