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The next, he’s stumbling backward, arms pinwheeling before he claps a hand over his bleeding mouth. “The fuck?” he shouts, and when he does, blood dribbles from between his fingers.
“I warned you,” I tell him, opening the door to usher him out. “And now, you can get out of here before I decide I liked that enough to do it again. Got me?”
“You’re out of your fucking mind.” He makes a point of spitting blood onto the floor before glaring at me.
“Maybe I am.” I advance on him, and he backs away like the coward he is. “But if you ever disrespect her again, I won’t stop at a punch in the mouth. I will fucking end you. Do you understand?”
He says nothing, only giving me one final, cold stare before turning around with as much dignity as he has left and quick-stepping his way down the hall.
In the aftermath of my rage, I’m shaking, thirsty for blood now that I’ve shed a little. I let him off too easy. The impulse to follow him is almost strong enough to overwhelm me, but it would be a waste of time. There are more important things to take care of.
Like Sarah. What do I do? I need her to trust me, and not only because Ophilia loves her.
It’s because I love her. I have no business feeling the way I do about that girl, but I can’t help it. There’s no hope of convincing myself to leave her alone. I need her, and that’s all there is to it.
I need her so badly; the desperate craving moves through my veins like lava, lighting up my darkest places, the ones I thought died long ago. She’s brought life back to me. To my household, to my daughter’s life. I wake up in the morning, and she’s all I want to see. I go to bed craving her skin, her warmth, her sweetness.
When Bruno returns, he finds me alone in my office, pacing the floor. “What happened?” he asks. “Did he leave?”
I ignore his question, as the answer is pretty obvious. Instead, I push past him and leave the room, ignoring what doesn’t matter in favor of what does as I march up to my bedroom.
I hate the way she flinches when I unlock the door and open it partway, going slowly to gauge her reaction. It’s like trying to approach a spooked animal. I’ve already made things bad enough and don’t want to make them worse.
She is sitting on the edge of the bed and now wraps her arms around her trembling form. She’s afraid of me. I can’t blame her. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, but that isn’t the worst part. The worst part is the way her eyes fill with tears. “I swear, I didn’t mean—”
I’ve already heard enough. “Stop.” I step into the room and close the door behind me, fighting to keep from going straight to her. That’s all she needs, having me fling myself at her when she’s already terrified.
“You don’t need to apologize,” I tell her, then watch relief loosen her muscles. “You did nothing wrong. I should’ve double-checked the door was closed.”
“But… you were so angry.”
“I was taken by surprise. That’s all. Sarah, I…” I can’t ignore the constant, pulsing need that has me in its grip, intensified now that it’s just the two of us in my room, alone. “I need you. I need you so much that it isn’t easy to breathe. I need you now. I don’t think I can stay away.”
Her mouth falls open while my dick begins to thicken in anticipation. “What are you saying?” she whispers, eyes searching my face before she starts trembling again.
I can only think of one way to show her, and so I do, crossing the floor in a few long strides, taking her arms in my hands, and pulling her to her feet. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” I whisper, letting my hands run down her arms until I’m lacing my fingers through hers. “I’ve never wanted anything or anyone as much as I want you. I have from the minute you walked into my office, and it’s only gotten worse since then. Harder to fight. You have to know. You have to feel it.”
“I do,” she confesses in the softest whisper.
“Let me touch you,” I beg in a whisper of my own. I’m shaking, burning for her by the time I lift her thin sweater over her head so I can cup her full tits encased in a lace bra. “You are so beautiful.”
She leans into me, swaying, before her eyes close, and a whimper of pure desire escapes her parted lips.
Lips I quickly claim with my own, kissing her deeply as I continue peeling away everything separating my body from hers.
Tonight, there’s not going to be anything separating us. Not anymore.
7
SARAH
Is this really happening? Did I fall asleep waiting for him? Because this has to be a dream. The thrill of his kiss. The delicious fire that races its way over my skin at his slightest touch. His urgent breathing, the way he groans when he cups my ass with both hands and pulls me in. It can’t be real. I’m only imagining this.
“So beautiful,” he whispers between kisses, reaching behind me to unclasp my bra so my boobs can fall free. His eyes widen before he descends on them, burying his face between them and pushing me back onto the bed so he can worship me. That’s the only word I can think of. It’s worship and reverence; his touch and kiss are respectful and passionate all at once. He takes his time, using his lips and his tongue to make me moan and writhe beneath him. My heart’s pounding, and I can’t stop trembling, but every kiss against my flushed skin eases me a little deeper into relaxing and enjoying. Either he is extremely good at this, or he’s meant for me, meant to give my body pleasure.
I arch my back once he kisses his way down my stomach. When he hooks his fingers under my waistband, I lift my hips to help him. I’ve never been here before. I don’t know what to do or how I’m supposed to act. I’m going on instinct, and my instincts are telling me to take everything he has to give. I have never needed anything more than this.
We’ve been here before, with his head between my thighs. There’s no fear now, no anxiety. I part my legs eagerly and lift my hips; I’m so desperate to have his tongue on me. He tears off his clothes and treats me to the sight of his chiseled chest and thick shoulders before lowering his head and placing the softest, sweetest kiss against my bare mound.
