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She nods, sobbing, working her hips back to meet my savage thrusts. “More. More.”
Maybe I should be alarmed by how easy the words are coming to me now, but there’s no time to acknowledge that reaction. There is only satisfying Jane. There is nothing else in this world but fucking her. Burying my cock in her snug pussy, over and over and over, my orgasm hovering in my abdomen, waiting for the green light to pop.
“The foyer is the best you can hope for, isn’t it?” I press the side of her face down onto the marble floor, my hips slapping roughly to her jiggling ass. “Girls like you don’t get brought to bed, huh? You get banged where you stand. Fast. Filthy, dirty shit. On your knees in the fucking foyer. That’s what you get, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” she chokes out, the inner walls of her sex beginning to clamp and release, signaling how close she is. I remember the signs from last time. Her perfection is engraved on my brain. “Oh God, oh God, oh God, don’t stop, Byron, please.”
“Go ahead.” I fall forward, roughly gathering her hips closer, my chest pressing down to her bare back, my teeth catching her ear lobe and tugging. “Come on it, slut.”
Her body convulses once, twice, and then she shakes violently, her pleasure flooding around my entry point into her cunt, making her feel hot, milky. So goddamn tight and wet that I lose myself. My brain takes a back seat and my body takes charge, rutting Jane from behind in a kind of mindless, starved, animalistic way, grunting and bellowing into her hair until finally, my God, finally, my balls lose the battle and I climax.
“Oh Jesus. Jesus.” I’ve flattened her to the ground now, pumping into her madly, her pleasure puddled beneath us on the floor, making it so we slip up and back, up and back on the marble, squeaking, groaning, the unimaginable pressure in my loins depleting spurt by spurt into her tight sex. “Jane. Mine. Jane is mine.”
“I’m all yours. I’m all for Byron.” She drives her hips back into my final thrusts, baby talking to me over her shoulder and I seem to peak again, again, pleasure emerging from a deep well inside me. Reserved for Jane. “Every little piece of me.”
“Yes,” I say raggedly, finally replete. Finally.
So spent I can barely stay upright.
But I do…because this isn’t over. There’s more. Something important.
Every instinct inside of me is screaming at me to care for Jane. Now. And I do as they say, sitting back and pulling her into my lap, wrapping my arms around her as tightly as they’ll go. Still panting, sweating, I rake my mouth gently through her hair. “Sweet girl. My beautiful girl. You are amazing. You are perfect. Perfect.”
I’m shocked when she stiffens and begins to struggle. “I-I don’t n-need you to do this—”
“I need it, then.” Her struggles cease at that.
I continue stroking her hair, whispering words of praise into her ear. Kissing her cheeks and shoulders and forehead, the storm calming inside of me when she relaxes. And there’s a shift, a subtle change between us that I’m not sure how to read. But with every one of her deepening breaths, I think she starts to trust me. And I have no idea how badly I’d been craving her trust until that moment. When she lets me cradle her to my chest and carry her upstairs toward my bedroom where she belongs.
Seven
Jane
I spent the night.
I slept in Byron DeWitt’s bed.
If we’re getting technical, I was held prisoner…but being trapped beneath his big leg, his arms wrapped around me like a straitjacket? There are way worse things in this life.
Understatement.
I’ve never been more filled with joy. With hope and love.
Oh God, those are such dangerous emotions.
Two days ago I slunk back into the shadows, but he pulled me out. He refused to let me stay there. I was just going to watch him sleep from the roof of his guest house. But he called me. And lord, he was so aroused. So hard. I couldn’t say no. I couldn’t stay away, no matter how many times I called myself selfish. A liar.
He has no idea who is sleeping beside him.
What if…he never finds out?
Is that possible?
We could go on like this forever, insatiable for each other. Lost in this crazy tailspin we throw one another into. It’s an addiction. We are an addiction. And maybe I was crazy to think walking away would be so easy. No. No, it’s impossible. Because he saw me last night. He recognized that I’ve been stalking him, obsessing and hungering…and he made love to me anyway. He needed me despite it all. He closed his eyes and slept, trusting me in his room, even though my infatuation with him is clearly unhinged. Unhealthy.
