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Jess bites my lip as I pull away, spinning her and pushing her down over the work bench, mindful not to apply too much pressure on her ribs. I run my hands over the globes of her bare arse and down her thighs as I drop to my knees, spreading her open, and like a feast at the Devil’s table, I devour her.
I swirl my tongue through her folds, dipping inside, and savouring the taste of her arousal before flicking my tongue over her clit.
Jess grips the bench as I torture her, eliciting sounds that have me squeezing my dick to stop me from blowing my load. When she comes apart, screaming and cursing my name, I lap up every last drop of her release.
Getting to my feet, I don’t give her a chance to catch her breath before I’m ramming home inside her. Jess’ head snaps up, letting out a loud cry at the fast and hard penetration. With her forearms on the bench, holding her up, and her head tipped back, I fist her hair as I thrust in and out.
Beads of sweat roll down her back, glistening in the dim light, and I bend my knees, deepening the angle. Jess begins to tilt her hips back and forth, riding my dick, and I slow my thrusts, letting her take control.
Jess starts to pant, stuttered breaths with each roll of her hips as another orgasm builds in her. “I…hate…you.”
I growl at her words. “You love riding my dick though, Jess. I can feel it, see it, every time you look at me.”
“Oh, god. Oh, god. Oh…fuck. Don’t stop, Rick.”
My balls draw up, and her walls contract tightly around me as I lean forward and whisper, “I’m never going to stop, Jess.” I don’t have time to think about my confession as Jess comes with a keening cry, and I surrender to my own climax, coming with a roar that’s ripped from my throat.
I collapse over her back, forehead resting in the small of her back, as her head drops to the bench with a dull thud, and her chest rises and falls against my cheek.
I turn my face, laying several soft kisses on her back before easing out of her and stepping back.
“Jess,” I say hesitantly.
Keeping her head down, she takes a couple of deep breaths. Pushing herself up, she turns round slowly, eyes to the floor. When she’s facing me fully, she raises her eyes to mine, and I see pain, conflict, so much uncertainty.
I don’t know what I was expecting; hate, anger, a dozen questions, even another slap, but I don’t get any of that, just a determined, yet sorrowful, frown.
When her question comes, it steals the breath from lungs.
“What happened to your wife, Rick?”
My heart seizes like the Devil reached in and ripped it from my body. I stagger backwards as I’m filled with all the pain and regret that I’ve pushed down for years.
“What the fuck sort of question is that, Jessica?” I spin away, snatching my boxers from the floor and shoving them on. “I’ve just been inside you, fucked you over a bench and had you screaming out my name, and basically just confessed how I feel about you and the first words out of your mouth are how did my wife die. Fuck that, Jess.”
“That’s just it though, Rick,” she says stepping towards me, and I take a step back, out of her reach. She steps forward again, reaching out a hand to me and laying it on my chest. I know she felt my flinch, but it doesn’t deter her. “You were right when you said this was always more than just sex, Rick. But in case you haven’t noticed, someone wants me dead.” She pushes her hand up my chest to my face. “My question wasn’t intended to hurt you, although I know it did. I see the conflict over your feelings for me. Believe me, I understand that. I see your pain over the loss of your wife too. She must have been something special.”
I grip her wrist, pulling her hand away from my face, and I see the hurt my actions cause.
“She was everything,” I croak out through gritted teeth, letting her hand drop, and trying to turn away from her. Looking at her while I say those words hurts more than I thought possible. I feel guilt at having feelings for Jess, but I also feel guilt at telling her a woman she can’t even compete with was everything to me.
Her hand latches onto my arm, stopping me. “Look at me.” I don’t, and she ducks down, gripping my face in a mirror of my hold on hers earlier, bringing us eye to eye. “I don’t want to be that for you, Rick. I don’t want you to fall and for me to ever be another cause of that pain living inside you. And I never want to be the reason you blame yourself, punish yourself, for something happening to me.”
Her words cut me like a knife. Slashing through my carefully held emotions. Emotions I’ve spent years perfecting, keeping at bay, while torturing myself with the tendrils of pain and guilt like a beautifully crafted whip designed for the punishment of those unworthy of forgiveness.
I let out a humourless laugh. “I think we both know it’s too late for that, Jess. And, unfortunately, this isn’t about you. It never was.” I throw my jeans back on before turning back to her. “Everything, all of it, is on me, Jess.” I walk from the room, leaving her there, because I need a minute. A minute to try and repair the walls she broke through with her words, and before I tear them down completely with my next confession.
Thirty
Jess
I watch as Rick walks away, head down and hunched over, t-shirt swinging loosely from one hand and shoes in the other.
I hang my own head and internally scream at myself. I take my time dressing as I try to process what just happened.
Rick may not have answered my question, but I read between the lines and it’s clear he believes he’s to blame.
I may have said I hate him, but I don’t, far from it. And I certainly don’t blame him for what happened to Christian. I don’t think I ever did. I’m just mad at him for having the answers that I’ve spent five years of my life seeking. I’m mad as hell that when he looks at me, speaks to me, touches me, my heart skips a beat and my belly flips over like the crest of a wave.
