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“Yeah, and later, I’m gonna fuck you again while we watch it.”
“Oh God!” she cries out, and I start pounding into her, using my strength to keep her suspended in the air with one hand on her hip and the other filming the sight of my thick cock taking her.
“Louder, baby. Moan louder. Say my name,” I tell her, then growl out when she tightens down on me.
“Theo. Please, harder. I need it harder.”
“Yeah, you do, my beautiful puppet.” I pick up the pace, and each time I slam back into her, she tightens, letting me know she’s close to coming.
“Scream for me when you come. Let everyone know you’re mine.” No one may be out here, and honestly, I would call my own bluff, because I could never share her with anyone. Even sharing her moans would make me mad with possessiveness.
“You’re so good at this, Theo. Oh…baby!” She screams the last word, and my balls draw up and tighten. I’m ready to let go again already, so I do, but not before, I move the camera up to her face, her breasts bouncing with each thrust, and she’s lost in the throes of passion.
“Come for me, baby. Come on my cock.” And she does just that as I record her sexy face.
Then, I toss the phone and lean back down, giving her a soft, gentle kiss. “Was that too much, baby?”
She shakes her head, dragging her nails lazily and softly up my exposed back. My body feels that from the top of my head to my toes. We don’t need aftercare for this, but I still want to check in on her.
“No, it was perfect. Promise you won’t show that video to anyone.” Her face draws in concern.
“Fuck no. You’re mine, Hanna. I won’t share you. In any form.” Finally, I end my lazy strokes and roll to the side.
She watches me, turns in, and wraps around me. I play with her hair, and we look up at the moon, the bright but shadowed orb enough to comfortably fill the void.
I want to say more, something I know I shouldn’t, so I don’t. Instead, I bite my tongue and swallow thickly. We can never go past what we are. Once again, that reminder plays devil’s advocate, and a back and forth battle goes on inside me while she lies next to me, totally enthralled in the settling aftermath of our unhinged pleasure.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
HANNA
The night went on, mostly one-line comments, some nodding, but for the most part, we sat in silence. Surprisingly, it was a comfortable silence.
But the night is getting late, and I need to sleep, because I work in the morning. Standing, I start to right my dress. Theo watches me, not saying a word, and it’s intimidating. Once the passion dies down and the adrenaline settles, that’s when those insecurities speak so much louder than any other thing could.
“I need to get home. I work early again.” I break the silence, hoping to also tear down the blatant self-loathing I’m feeling.
“You could skip work. Stay in the bed of this truck with me. Let me have my wicked way with you.” He sits up on his elbows, looking me over.
“You already did that. And believe me—it was wicked.” I laugh.
“You thrive when you are in those moments. You know that, right?”
He tells me this, and I stop what I’m doing to look at him. “What do you mean?” I sit on the edge of the tailgate, and he sits up, placing his back against the truck. His pants are still unbuttoned, but he has righted himself, his cock back in the confines of his boxer briefs. Each dent, defined muscle, and everything on his exposed upper half was handcrafted by the gods themselves. I think I’ve only ever seen men like him in movies and magazines.
“I watch you hate your body, ridicule yourself even in the silence. In fact, it’s loudest then.”
I hate this. I hate that he sees what I used to never have to share with the world. I’ve walked alone for so long that I didn’t need to be afraid of people seeing the weaker parts of me, the vulnerable sides.
“You don’t know that.” I come off aggressive. It’s the only defense I have.
“You turn into someone who isn’t afraid of her pleasure, of her body, of her beauty, but the second the dust settles, you turn back in on yourself. Why?” he questions me, watching me like I’m a mystery. I don’t want to be anyone’s mystery. Why am I having to share all of me when he seems to have nothing to hide nor share?
“Why do you fear love?”
“I told you.” He shrugs. “It doesn’t appeal to me. I have no desire for it.”
“Bullshit. That’s a copout. There is something there that has you afraid that someone could get inside and maybe make you vulnerable. You can call my bluff and deflect all day long, but there is a story with you too, Theo.” I’m not afraid to challenge him.
