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Here I am, wanting her badly. It feels wrong. More wrong than the first time we had sex.
“Jordan.” Her voice is a little cracked, but heavy desperation and need turns the simplistic tired voice into a mean moan.
I’m going to make love to her.
I swear on that.
“Rebecca…” I answer, my hands traveling a little lower down and holding her by a globe of her fleshy ass.
“I want to kiss you again. Can I?” she asks weakly.
I respond to that with a kiss. Her lips are soft, her mouth is open, and she is starving. She doesn’t take me in at once, though.
Just little pecks and nibbles, almost like she doesn’t want to do anything else wrong. Suddenly, I feel like such a terrible person for having her stay this long without me.
That’s when I realize it’s only been a day.
The anger that I have been harboring has made it feel like an eternity.
Yup, I’m a monster, and I feel terrible for it.
But I can make up for my I’ll behavior, though and I do just that by kissing her deeper. My tongue laces around hers and the friction gives me shivers. She tastes of citrus, which I’m presuming was the last thing she ate.
It’s a favor I didn’t expect to go so well with arousal and saliva.
My grip on her rear increases and I begin to crave flesh, not just her covered skin. I have to lower myself at the knees for that,bringing my hands to trace her from where her nightdress starts, and running through her sexy thighs.
Honestly, I don’t even think I can be mad at her anymore, neither can I deny the fact that I love her.
She’s, my cocaine. A drug that I swore never to turn to, but look at me, indulging heavily.
I can’t help it…can’t help her. Her mouth strains against mine, as she pulls her lips sensually away, drawing a moan in the process.
Rabaah!
I capture her lips again and have her do the same thing. She pulls her lips away again and leaves me to hold a little part of her lips with mine, creating that sensual pull.
This time, she does it with a little more moisture on the lips.
“You’re difficult to resist,” I grunt hoarsely. She’s confused, obviously not knowing what she just did, but she doesn’t need to know.
“Just in case this is the last time we ever get to do this, I want it to be memorable,” I tell her and bring my lips into hers again.
I love every aspect of making love to her. She’s responsive and sensitive to even my kisses.
“It won’t.” She tries to maintain optimism, even though we both know it will.
Once I kill Thomas, it’s one of two options.
Wait for the police to file an investigation and arrest me fire his murder. I won’t implicate her at all for her help. Hence, I’ll spend the rest of my life behind bars.
The second one, which is what I plan to do, is to return to Oman.
It’s the most realistic.
In each case, I won’t be seeing Rebecca again.
There is a third option, but that involves me dying, because I won’t be able to kill Thomas, but it’s the least probable.
