Page 17 of Taking His Diva

I slap her ass again. Because she’s right. I’ll give her anything she wants.

“Admit it anyway.” The desperation in my voice to hear her confirmation is easily recognizable. Thankfully, she gives in.

“Yes. Just the thought of your cock anywhere in me makes me gush. Happy?”

In answer, I push myself deep into her body. Lacy’s hands come up to brace herself on the wall. The slippery heat of her cunt welcomes me home. I’m still on edge and praise everything holy in the world that her walls begin to flutter around me immediately.

In earnest, I pound into her. For her part, Lacy pushes back against the drywall, meeting each of my brutal thrusts with oneof her own. “So good.” She leans her forehead against the wall and rocks it back and forth. “Why is it always so good?”

I can’t answer. My heart is in my throat and my brain is in my cock. I want to take away all her pain, give her only pleasure. But part of me knows this isn’t going to fix anything for her, not beyond the temporary anyway.

“Get there, Lacy. I can’t hold on.” I grunt at her, reach my hand around, and then pinch her swollen clit between my calloused fingers.

Her hands slip down the wall, and as we both let go, we collapse into a heap on the floor, half kneeling half sitting in a weird crouched position. She continues to pump up and down on my cock, chasing the rapidly dwindling orgasm as it crests and dissolves. My cum is everywhere. Seeping out of her onto my lap, dripping onto the floor.

My heart constricts, breaks, as I realize the heaving of her shoulders isn’t only from the exertion we both just expended. But from her crying.

Lacy sobs. “I need more.”

Chapter Nine

Lacy

Air refuses to fill my lungs.

The edges of my vision go blurry.

Beneath me, Scott has slipped from my body, then turns me to cradle across his lap. “What happened, Lacy?”

Oh, God. This man has already seen me at my weakest. At my worst. I can’t add on another vision of me as the poor little rich girl to his memory. All too quickly, he’s become the person I need most. I want to be the best for him. But despite what I might have thought mere months ago, I’m nowhere near the best.

“I can’t.” I stand to my shaky legs, rearranging my dress as I search for my shoes. Where did I put them when I came home?

Scott grips my arm, but I flinch and push him away. The hurt which crosses his face causes my stomach to knot tighter than it already was. I press my eyes closed to block the sight of him pitying me, but then the pictures appear behind my eyelids, and I force them open again.

The only thing to make those images go away since my interview with Agent Rose is Scott’s arms around me, his cock in my mouth and in my cunt.

He makes it all go away.

Wiping the tears from beneath my eyes, I advance on him, and he takes a step back. I’ve learned over the past few weeks, Scott has a quick recovery time. Sometimes only minutes are needed for him to be ready for round two.

Even half-hard, he’s still the most magnificent man I’ve ever seen. My fingers slide against his cock, still a little wet from the raging orgasm he just gave me.

“Lacy, I’m not going to fuck you when you’re crying.” The disgust lacing his voice has me backing away. I disgust him right now.

Before either of us can respond, I turn on my heel and sprint for the door. Thank God we never got me completely naked.

No clue where I’m going, just need out. Away from that look Scott gave me. Away from Agent Rose. My father. Hell, life. I run, afraid that eventually, Scott is going to get his shorts back on and come after me.

After a while, my feet begin to ache, which will happen when running through the streets of Brooklyn with no shoes.

Finally, I come to a stop, struggling to catch my breath. I lean against an iron fence surrounding a restaurant patio. People trying to eat their meals shoot concerned glances my way, and I look away to avoid their eyes. Which is when it dawns on me. I’ve run straight to Marci’s building.

Despite her being my best friend, I’ve only been to her apartment a handful of times. Not my side of town. Disgusted with myself, I shake my head and swipe at more tears. It’s like suddenly sunglasses have been ripped away from my face, and the truth of the world around me, the brightness of the sun, the bleakness of everything else, is blinding. But mostly, my stupidity is what keeps me cringing as I walk into the lobby of Marci’s building.

There’s no doorman. The elevator is broken, and I’m pretty sure it was broken the last time I deigned to make an appearancehere as well. With no other choice, I start the seven flight walk to her floor. On the third landing, I step on glass and bleed all over the stairs for the next four flights. Just as I approach her door, it occurs to me she might not be home. She has a thriving career as a writer for a popular magazine, and if I didn’t totally fuck things up for her with the guy at the cafe, possibly a boyfriend.

But I’ve made it this far. I’m not chickening out now. With a deep breath, I knock on the door.

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