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"Don't fight me," he warns, the hand on my waist going lower, lower, back to my clit to torment me again. "This is where I need to be, Baylee. This is how I mark what's mine."
"Oh fuck," I whimper, flattening my palm on the wall, digging in hard enough I'm probably trashing the nails Addison glued on this morning. I roll my spine, but he gives me nowhere to go.
"Mine, pet. It is mine, isn't it?"
I nod as best as I can. In the fantasy, yes. For this second of our lives, my pussy is his to own.
"You were a good girl for me today, weren't you?" he asks as he starts to work me slowly, but he still fills me too far, making me wince each time.
"Yes," I whimper.
"Were you a good girl for the other men today?"
"Not Luke."
He pauses for a moment before chuffing out a laugh and slapping my hip more playfully. "Not what I meant, but you certainly weren't. And you weren't a good girl for the other men, either. You were a good girl for me."
"Only you," I agree. He's right. Everything I did was to be good for him, no one else.
"Keep your eyes closed, pet."
He spins me around, not surprising. It's not surprising either when he lifts me and wraps my legs around his waist. But then he slowly lowers us down to the floor, settling me on his shaft, letting me ride him how I want to.
Slowly, that's what I want. His lips go to mine, and after being fucked hard all weekend, I just want to sink into this. Into the touch, into the flesh against flesh, into the heat between us as the shower rains down on us.
His kiss is soft and deep, lazy but demanding. His tongue slides over mine, claiming my mouth. His teeth nibble at my bottom lip. His hands dig through my hair, holding me close and preventing me from coming up for air, not that that's a surprise with him.
I take hold of his shoulders, hugging him for all I'm worth as I rock in his lap, feeling his . . .
Everything. I feel everything. I want to hate him for being such a jerk all weekend instead of letting me live my life — he could have had just as much sex with me without breaking me down — but instead I hate that what I feel right now will never be again.
I want to get excited that after this weekend, there's probably enough sperm in my uterus to keep me pregnant for the rest of my life, and instead I'm already feeling pangs over how I won't have Ted doting over my growing belly like I see men do on TV. I don't even know if that's real, but this isn't real, either.
I hate that this is goodbye for real, that the moment he floods me with cum, he's gonna run off to get on that jet.
I tear my lips from his with an angry "fuck" and slump my chin down onto his shoulder.
He rubs my back and whispers, "I know, pet."
I cheat. I open my eyes and stare down his back, seeing flesh as smooth and muscular as I'd imagined, still taut and unmarked by any sort of age spots. No scars, no tattoos. Did all the marker I doodled on myself bother him? Is he now seeing that the sharpie is fading but a real tattoo remains?
I want to see him, all of him. It's unfair that he gets that and I don't. I don't care that he won’t be as handsome as my airbrushed idea of him. I don't care that the signs of his age won't be as flattering as I imagine, that he probably has those lines and wrinkles and spots, that he's probably not a silver fox. If anything, all that will help. "Let me open my eyes," I beg even as I shut them so he doesn't catch me.
"No, pet. You know why."
His hand goes to my breastbone, gently peeling me off of him, straightening me and shifting the angle of his cock. It seems like he's going to allow me to see him after all, but before the shiver his cock sends up my spine even settles, I'm tipped back too far. My face is pointed up to the shower head, and I can't possibly open my eyes now.
"I've avoided this all weekend," Ted murmurs. "Should avoid it now, too, but it's too late."
I don't understand any of that, but his body is moving with mine, his cock is scraping my upper walls where the nerves are most sensitive, the shower is washing thought away.
His lips go to my breast, taking the entire areola in his mouth, his tongue lathing my nipple as he sucks hard on the swollen flesh.
The puffy tits he likes so much. That's what Luke said that first day. But Ted's barely touched them until now. Everything's been such a whirlwind it barely registered, and now he's sucking on it so hard it's like he's drawing life from it.
"Oh, God," I whimper, taking hold of his head both for support and also to anchor him there.
I buck hard on his lap, and it feels so, so good, even when he growls in his throat and digs his teeth in, letting me know he's not going to let go no matter how hard I thrash.
