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CHAPTER SIX
Treyton
Clarke moans against my mouth as I drive deep inside of her, the tight feeling of her around me pulling me closer to release by the second.
A better man would have stopped this before it went too far.
A better man wouldn’t have taken advantage of someone who was clearly dealing with some parental shit and in a vulnerable state.
A better man would have denied her.
But I’m not a better man.
In fact, I’m anything but good.
And right now, I don’t feel one ounce of fucking guilt.
Because Clarke feels too good, too right, for me to second guess myself for even a fraction of a second.
My fingers dig into her hip as I start to lose hold. I thrust harder and faster, chasing the ecstasy and pleasure.
It’s only been a few days since I’ve gotten laid but with how quickly Clarke has brought me to the brink, you’d think it had been more like years.
And when I open my eyes to see her lips part as her own climax crashes over her, I topple over the edge, grunting like a wild animal as I ride out my release, filling the condom to the brim.
Seconds later I collapse down on top of her, my chest heaving as I work to catch my breath. I feel Clarke’s fingers slide up my bare back, her nails gently dragging across my skin, and to my surprise I’m not even a little bit tempted to pull away like I normally would.
Strange.
When this whole fiasco started, I thought this was going to be torture. Now, I think it’s safe to say, I’m singing an entirely different tune. Clarke is nothing like I had originally thought, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying getting to know her better… Especially her body.
“That was…” Clarke’s breath dances against my ear.
“Yeah, I know,” I agree. Because it was. I’ve been with more women than I care to think about and I can’t remember any of them, metaphorically, bringing me to my knees the way Clarke just did.
I shake the thought off as soon as it slides through my mind.
Hoisting myself up onto my elbows, I look down at the woman beneath me. Her blonde hair is fanned out on the bed, lips swollen and cheeks flushed. She looks like a fucking goddess. I have no more than started to go limp before I’m rock hard all over again. Reluctantly, I pull out, fearing the condom might slip if I were tempted to start moving again. And believe me, I am.
Reaching between us, I slip the condom off and set it on the floor after knotting it, making a mental note to throw it away once I get up, which I have no intention of doing anytime soon.
“Is it always like that?” She bats her eyelashes.
Fuck, she really is innocent, which is a rare find these days.
“For me, it isn’t,” I admit, surprised by how true the words are.
“You probably say that to every girl.” She flattens her palms against my chest and pushes, but I don’t budge.
“Actually, I don’t. In fact, normally I’d be dressing and leaving right about now.”
Okay, so that’s notentirelytrue. Though usually, the only time I actually spend the night with a woman is simply because I’m too fucking exhausted to get up. And that’s usually because I’ve fucked her three times by then.
“And you’re not leaving?”
I can’t tell if she’s hopeful I will, or hopeful I won’t.
“You couldn’t get rid of me yet if you tried.” I sink back down on top of her, pressing my bare erection against her warm, wet center. “If I had another condom, I’d be back inside of you again right now.” I groan, pressing my mouth to hers. “Unless you’re on birth control.” I run my tongue along the seam of her lips. “But I’m guessing you wouldn’t trust me if I promised I was clean?” I nudge at her entrance again.
