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He’s not asking if I’m okay, he’s asking permission. “Yes.” The word is heavy and lust-filled, almost begging.
He drives into me with a noise that’s close to a roar. His cock strokes my G-spot as he finally fills every desperate inch of me.
God, no other man. Never. Not like this.
My mind starts to cloud, my thoughts incoherent, my breathing erratic. He moves a hand to my clit. I flinch at first, the bundle of nerves too sensitive, then I relax and let him take me back to the brink.
“Clark, I’m there. Come with me. Please.” I need it. I need him to be in the same place as me, with me.
He quickens his thrusts but keeps his depth. Each hard pound hitting exactly where I want him to be. “Clark!”
“Dayna, Jesus!”
He barks expletives and drives harder, once, twice, before my climax rips through my body. I feel him thicken and pulse, his fingers digging into my hips as he releases.
He slides out of me and gets rid of the condom then guides me onto the bed. I’m in a daze, unable to get a handle on what I’m feeling. Overwhelmed.
He lifts my chin and presses his lips to mine. It’s so familiar it cuts through my wayward thoughts and makes me smile. As he kisses me, he takes us both back up the bed, coming to rest over me, his weight between my legs a welcome presence. He hovers his torso above me, resting on his forearms, and his lips curl up, his eyes bright.
I’m afraid of what he might or could say. Whether it’s good or bad, I’m not sure if I want to listen, so I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him. I get lost in his kiss, in him. And soon I’m squirming beneath him, wanting him again.
He moves down my body, nibbling my breast then sucking the end, pulling the tight tip through his teeth. My back bows, my shoulders pressed into the mattress, my fingers fisting his bedsheets. As he moves, I feel him harden again, and I roll my pelvis up, showing him that I want him. That I can’t get enough of him.
It occurs to me he should probably get protection, but I’m on the pill and… it’s Clark. Whether he thinks it too or not, he moves his fingers to my entrance and, satisfied that I’m ready to go again, he nudges my hole with the head of his rock-solid penis.
“I want to come inside you, Dayna. Nothing in the world feels as good as you.”
I nod, braced, but he surprises me. He slides into me slowly and strokes my hair from my face, watching me as he makes love to me so tenderly it threatens to burst my heart. I’ve been here before. I know the risk. I’ve felt the pain of withdrawal after succumbing to his potent drug. But this is right. It’s so right it couldn’t possibly be wrong.
I WAKE WEARING only a smile. The room is bright because we didn’t close the curtains, but so bright it must have snowed overnight. Fresh, glistening flakes. It’s hard to say which comes first, the dull throb in my head, the dry mouth, or the realisation that I was stupid enough to go to bed with Clark. Again.
But.
This is… unexpected.
His arm is wrapped around me, pinning me to his firm, warm chest. His nose is nuzzled into my neck. I touch my lips, pleasantly sore and plump from hours of being bitten and sucked. I think about the way he looked at me, not the first time, but the second and third time, when he made love to me.
But he’s looked at me like that before. Right after those looks and the feeling of falling irrevocably deeper comes the sight of his back running away.
He’s only just left his wife. Fiancée. Same difference.
God, I’m an idiot.
I peel his hand from my skin and place it gently on the mattress as I slip out of the covers. I can’t resist a glance at his fine torso. His hair is mussed from my fingers and the hours of rolling around in bed. If only it could last.
He stirs when I open a drawer and take out a pair of his lounge pants and a t-shirt. I tiptoe into the en-suite and take a shower. I can smell him on my skin. His usual scent mixed with sex. Hot and dirty.
I tip my head back under the spray and wash my hair. He slept with me. Not the sex part but the actual sleeping. He was open when we talked last night, more honest than I think he’s ever been with me. Okay, he loves Connie. But he’s not in love with her. That’s what he said.
Maybe? Just… maybe?
I’m smiling again as I towel-dry my hair in the mirror. I consider the lounge pants and t-shirt and think better of it. My intentions don’t require clothes.
I pull my hair across one shoulder and open the bathroom door, naked.
If it were possible, I’d think my stomach just fell out of my body. I should have expected it. I did expect it. But I let myself hope for a nanosecond, and staring at the empty bed hurts so much more because I did.
I only have myself to blame.
