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My core throbs, spasming around his dick like it’s desperate to milk it dry once I’m allowed to come, and I whine low in my throat, feeling all that sensation keep building like it’s going to snap.
Finally, he seems to be at the end of his tether. I can feel his hips stuttering, the stamina he’s been using to drive me nuts finally giving out. He reaches around and down and pinches my clit hard.
The pain and stimulation are enough to set me off like a bomb, and I nearly scream, getting a hand up over my mouth in time to muffle it as I explode in pleasure.
I can barely breathe, barely keep my body from shaking itself apart as I come, gushing on his cock and squeezing it hard.
Gage follows me over the edge, letting out a low groan as he pumps me full of his release.
I’m breathless, slumped against the shelves, trying to remember how to move or do anything. My body is still trembling from the force of my pleasure, and I nearly stagger when Gage pulls out and steps back.
By the time I can turn around to look at him, he’s pulling his pants up and tucking his cock away. Even though I’m positive he was just as into that as I was, he looks more put together, since he’s dressed and not oozing cum the way I am.
“Clean up the fucking books,” he says, back to that angry, flat tone.
Then he turns and walks out, leaving me there with the mess.
Whatever bliss I was feeling a second ago evaporates instantly on the heels of my anger, and I’m pissed off all over again.
Not about fucking him, but about the fact that it feels like he’s won something. Like he’s the one who came out ahead and has the higher ground now, even though I’m the one who instigated the confrontation.
He walked out like he was fine and nothing had changed, but I’m the one slumped against a shelf like I’ve lost my equilibrium. Gage definitely had the upper hand while we were fucking. I needed him in that moment, and I hate that more than anything.
He practically had me begging, poised on the edge of an orgasm I could only get from him, and he knew it.
“Fucking asshole,” I spit, even though there’s no one there to hear it.
I don’t need anybody. Least of all Gage. Or any of these fucking guys.
“I’ll pick up your stupid books,” I mutter under my breath.
I gather up the ones that fell off the shelves and make sure to smear his cum on the pages before slapping them shut and putting them away. The pages will get stuck together, and it’ll serve him fucking right.
I pull my pants back up and put my shirt back on, leaving the library and stepping into the hall.
All I want is to go back to my room and not have to see or think about anyone for a little while. So of course, Dog comes up to me, whining for attention.
Something about this creature, who needs me, who makes me feel things, just pisses me off even more. I never agreed to be responsible for anyone or anything. I took care of Hannah the best I could, and I failed her. Ever since then, I’ve always relied on myself and made sure that was all I had to deal with. And now somehow I have this whole list of people that I have to answer to, and I hate it. It makes me feel like I’m suffocating, like there’s nowhere I can turn where I don’t have someone poking at me, wanting something.
“Come here,” I snap, grabbing the mutt’s scruff.
He perks up immediately, his tail wagging hard enough that it thumps into the wall. I don’t know what he’s so fucking excited about.
I haul him to the front door and fling it open. “Go on,” I tell him, pointing at the open door. “Get out of here.”
Dog just looks from the outside to me and then back again, like he doesn’t understand.
“Get the fuck out, you stupid dog. You don’t belong here.” I shove him out the door, and he trots a few steps down the driveway before turning around and looking at me again, like he’s expecting me to follow.
I move to shut the door, but before I can, he comes running back.
He plops down in the doorway and looks at me plaintively, his furry dark head cocked to one side.
“No!” I snarl. “Go. I don’t care where, but get out of here.”
My tone makes him whine again, and this time when I push him out the door, he doesn’t even go anywhere, just stands on the stoop watching me with a sad look on his face.
“Jesus fucking Christ. Fine. Whatever.” I step back from the door, and Dog comes rushing back in, tail wagging all over again. I shut the front door and turn to head into the kitchen, and he follows with an adoring look on his face.
“This doesn’t mean I like you,” I mutter under my breath as I grab his food bowl and go to fill it with dog food.
His tail just keeps wagging like he couldn’t care less.
