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“Do it,” I begged. “Make me yours.”
He stroked himself roughly and edged the fat head of his cock against me. “You’ve been mine from the minute you said I do.”
The words were finalized when he buried himself inside me and shuddered. I collapsed against his chest and breathed in his masculinity. His raw vulnerability. Everything that made him my sweetest addiction yet.
I stroked his face and ran my fingers through his hair, searching his eyes as I leaned back. “Fuck me hard. Show me.”
He closed his eyes. He didn’t want to hurt me. “That isn’t what I need from you, pet.”
“Maybe it’s what I need,” I said.
He studied my face, searching for lies. But he didn’t find them. And when he was certain, he made his decision.
His hand found my lower back, and he lifted me as he stood, only to let me collapse back onto his desk. We were still connected, and his eyes hotter than I’d ever seen them when he spread my legs wide and propped my feet on the edge of the desk.
He could see all of me this way. Every little part. It was the first time I wasn’t inclined to squeeze my legs shut, and he knew it.
“Fuck, you’re going to kill me,” he murmured as he gripped my knees. “Don’t move, baby girl. I’ll give you what you want.”
He squeezed my calves in his palms and lifted my legs to suit his preference, holding me in place as he thrust inside. I watched him enter me, and then I became mesmerized by the drunken bliss on his face as he fucked me hard and fast.
I didn’t have any intentions on coming. This was about him. I wanted to watch him use me. I wanted to know that I was the only one he’d ever use this way. I waited for him to say the words. I watched his every twitch and listened to the painful sounds that erupted from his chest. He never told me what I wanted to hear. But when he buried his cock deep inside me and unleashed his orgasm, it was good enough for me.
When it was all over, he leaned his forehead against mine, dark lashes softly caressing his cheeks. “Don’t fall in love with me, Gypsy.”
“Then don’t make me,” I whispered.
“I can’t love you back.”
“Because of her?”
“No.” He didn’t give me further explanation, but it didn’t matter. It felt true. And I think we both needed it to be true.
It was the only way to protect ourselves.
“HEY,” BIRDIE CHIRPED FROM THE other end of the line. “What’s up?”
“Not too much.” I stared up at the ceiling from my spot on the bed. “You haven’t been answering my texts.”
“I have been answering them,” she said guiltily. “Just not as timely as you like, but still.”
“That’s it?” I rolled my eyes. “No explanation?”
“I’ve been busy,” she mumbled.
“With what?”
“Life.” She was being vague, and I didn’t like it.
“Are you staying out of trouble?”
“Why does everyone always think I’m up to no good all the time?” she groaned.
“Who is everyone?” I demanded.
“You,” she covered quickly. “Just you.”
“I have good reason to ask that, B.”
And I also had good reason to doubt what she was telling me now. Something felt off with her every time I’d talked to her lately, but I couldn’t figure out what she was hiding.
“I know you do,” she said softly. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be a bitch, but if it means anything, I miss you.”
I smiled into the phone. “It means everything. But if you miss me, then why don’t you come visit me like I’ve asked.”
The other line was quiet for so long I had to check the call connection before she answered. “When?”
“Soon,” I pleaded. “I want to see you.”
She shuffled around like she was getting comfortable. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine.” And surprisingly, I meant it. I could imagine Birdie probably thought things would be terrible here, but if that was the case, she hadn’t expressed it outwardly.
“You sound different,” she noted.
“I do?”
“Yep.” She blew a bubble into the speaker, and I could see her trying to work it out in her mind. “What’s going on with you?”
“I don’t know.” I rolled over and stared out the window. “But I’ve been thinking about a lot of stuff lately, and I just regret the way we were living. It wasn’t right for me to do that. I should have showed you a better way.”
Birdie’s voice was soft when she replied. “You did the best with what we were given, Gypsy. I know you aren’t my mom, but you’ve always taken care of me anyway. I would never want you to feel bad for doing what you had to so we could survive. In fact, you’ve done too much. I’m an adult now, and it’s time for me to carry some of the burden. It’s time for me to be responsible too.”
