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He's fucking me. Finding release.
That’s it.
“Jagger,” I plead. “If you don’t ...”
He thrusts harder, slamming into me with such force it hurts. I cry out and shove at his chest, but he doesn’t stop.
“Stop,” I yell, shocking even myself, as hot tears burn under my eyelids.
He comes to an abrupt halt and slumps down on top of me, not moving his face from my shoulder, his breathing ragged. We both lie there for a moment, still, nothing but our breathing filling the quiet space. He finally lifts his head, and his eyes are wild and confused.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I whisper, shaking my head.
“I’m fucked up, that’s what’s wrong with me,” he growls. “We can’t do this.”
He moves to pull out of me, but the friction turns my sob into a guttural moan. He stills, no doubt confused, his eyes lock onto mine with question. Should he go on? I don’t want him out of me. I want him right here. I want him to stay. I push my hips up, giving him the invitation he is seeking, and he slides back in and begins fucking me once more, slower this time. His pace is soft and gentle, bringing me to the edge. He gently rocks his hips, letting off little growls of pleasure while he drives me to the edge.
“Oh ... God ...” I scream as I shudder around him with my first orgasm.
He grunts, and then I feel him pulsing inside me. His release is silent, aside from that one, pained grunt. When he stops moving, we both lie there, neither of us speaking. I know what he’s thinking—this situation is fucked up. It’s wrong in so many ways, hell, that sex was wrong. So why do I want it to go on? He rolls away from me, falling onto his back and staring up at the ceiling.
“I should go,” I dare to say, mostly because I have no idea what he wants in this moment.
“No.”
It comes out hard and gritty, which tells me he means it.
“What’s going on here?”
He doesn’t answer.
“Jagger ...”
“Nothing,” he snaps, “nothing is goin’ on here.”
I sit up quickly. “We’re doing that again, are we? You need to get your shit together, seriously.”
I roll to get off the bed to leave, but he grips me and jerks me back down, rolling until he can flatten me with his body. He crushes my chest down onto the bed and his body lies over mine. He keeps me there, warm breath in my ear, dick hard against my bottom even though we only just finished having sex.
“You know the moment in life when everything you thought you were, is suddenly wrong? The moment that changes everything. It changes who you are, who you believe you are, and who you’re going to be. You’re that moment, Willow.”
He whispers these words into my ear and my whole body gives way. I melt into the mattress, and into him. He doesn’t move his body off mine, instead, he pushes into me once more, his cock sliding into my wet heat and causing a whimper to escape. He moves slowly over me, sliding his hips backward and forward until I am shuddering and crying out once more.
“I hate that I want you, but I can’t stop,” he whispers into my ear. “I can’t stop this.”
“I know,” I gasp. “I know.”
“Move your ass up, Willow. Let me fuck you deeper.”
His words cause a shiver to run through me. I raise my ass and he takes my hips, driving harder into me. I groan and tangle my fingers in the sheets until I’m coming around him again. He brings me to orgasm with his fingers on my clit and his length sliding in and out of me at least two more times before he finally finds another release of his own.
When he rolls off me for the second time, I remain with my face down, my body weak and satisfied. I don’t roll, I just lie on my stomach until he crawls up beside me. He wraps an arm around me and pulls me to his side. I don’t say anything, I just lie there wondering what the hell we are doing. The feeling is real, and it isn’t just one sided. He feels it too, his words prove that.
“Dark and twisted,” he murmurs.
I roll to my back and stare up at the roof. He pushes up onto his elbow, fingers tracing over the scar on my belly once more.
“What happened?”
I sigh. “It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got all night.”
“It’s a side to me I’m not proud of.”
“It’s me you’re talking to,” he murmurs, finger still tracing over the jagged edge of the scar.
I close my eyes and sigh. “I did it to myself.”
He sucks in a breath but doesn’t say anything more. He lets me go on.
