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There’s a mocking lilt to his voice but I don’t care as long as he gives me what I want—what I’ll die without. I don’t have to wait long because as soon as the thought crosses my mind, Isaac shoves his cock inside me in one brutal thrust, filling me almost painfully. His hips pound against my ass, shoving me into the door with every punishing roll of his body.
“Yes,” I cry out, rubbing my clit furiously as my orgasm barrels into me, lighting up every cell and nerve like fireworks. “Oh my God!”
Isaac groans, his relentless thrusts halting as I clench down around him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” My orgasm goes on and on, one rolling into another as the first pulse of his cum explodes inside of me.
“Holy shit, Eve. Your pussy’s squeezing the hell out of me. Christ.”
It feels like hours pass before I’ve finally caught my breath. Isaac exhales a deep, shaky breath and slips from my abused core, leaving a trail of his sticky cum to trickle out. I groan, using the door to push myself upright then grimace when more liquid spills down my thigh.
“Damn,” he murmurs, handing me my shirt and bra. I cock a sweaty brow at the proud look on his handsome face. “I like seeing you like this.”
“Fucked half to death?” I huff, sliding my bra on.
He clicks his tongue and turns toward the bathroom, likely to clean up. I yank my shirt on and follow him, needing to do the same.
“Don’t swear, sweetheart,” he gently chides.
I shove him playfully, my hand falling to my side like a dead weight. I honestly do feel like he fucked the life from me. “I think we’re past that, Isaac.”
I snag a washcloth from the vanity and flick the tap on hot. With one look in the mirror, I’m thankful I didn’t wear any makeup today due to the heat. I’m a mess.
After rinsing my face, I wet the cloth and wring it out. Isaac leans against the counter, his arms crossed over his impressive chest, and tilts his head to the side. “What are you doing?”
The confused look I give him should say it all but I clarify with words. “Cleaning up,” I say. “Obviously.”
He shakes his head and snags the wet cloth from my fingers, using it to wash his sticky, softening cock before tossing it into the hamper in the corner. I gape at him but he ignores me and closes the distance between us. Without a word, he slides my soaked thong into place and rights my skirt.
“What are—”
His lips press against mine as he cups my mound through my clothes. His mouth trails across my jaw until he reaches my ear and murmurs, “I want you walking around with my cum running down your thighs so all of Savannah knows who you belong to.”
“Isaac, I can’t do that—” I start, shaking my head even as a shiver rolls down my spin.
“You can and you will, little temptress.” He kisses me again, this time, so hard and thoroughly, I forget what I was protesting in the first place. He smacks my sore ass and turns me toward the door. “Now let’s go. We’ve got an art exhibit to see.”
The tent does nothing to squash the sweltering Georgia sun. I wipe my forehead with the back of my hand, barely holding in an annoyed groan at Chase’s incessant talking. I shrug my shoulders, readjusting my tight black tee, and tense my jaw.
“Why are you here again?” I grumble, glancing at him over my shoulder. The fucker doesn’t look sweaty in the least. If anything, the light sheen on his golden skin makes him look better. It’s ridiculous.
“My pretty face is the thing that brings people in,” he says, blinking in innocence.
“My work brings people in,” I counter. He throws his head back and laughs, his throat bobbing and blond hair swaying.
“You’re the grumpiest fucker on the planet,” he says. “Maybe it’s your work that draws their attention, but it’s me who makes them actually stop.” I roll my eyes and face forward again, my elbows braced on the folding table housing prints of our flash tattoos and business cards. I flick my lighter in my hand, watching as the flame dances in the breeze.
Not for the first time since the party, my mind wanders back to Eve. What’s she doing? Is she camming for some guy right now? Is she naked and fucking herself for the world to see?
My initial rage has simmered for weeks. And, like the emotional masochist I am, I subscribed to her Favorite Fans using a pseudonym. I told myself it was just to keep an eye on her, to make sure she wasn’t getting harassed by creeps. But I know that’s not true.
Because every night since I subscribed, I’ve fucked my fist to her videos, to her pictures. She hasn’t updated it in weeks, and a part of me is worried, but another part is anxiously waiting for a new video, a new post, anything that tells me she’s still alive, that Isaac hasn’t found out and fucking killed her for ruining his precious reputation in that God forsaken Podunk town.
“Why did I move to America?” Kon grumbles, his accent thicker with his annoyance as he rounds the thin post in the center of the tent, a deep scowl on his bearded face. “And why did I choose the fucking South?”
I huff out a breath, the closest to a laugh I’ll give, and ignore his dramatics. My gaze stays on my lighter, my thoughts still on Eve as I watch the metal lid open, the flame flickering to life, only to be snuffed out by the lid again.
Over and over, again and again, I watch the flame come to life then die.
“Anyway, so, I talked to Oli last night,” Chase says to no one and everyone, always eager for an audience. Sometimes, I wish I was more like him. Instead, I’m content to blend into the background. “Apparently, Robert got sick and she had to take him to the emergency vet.”
