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“Fine.” I unbutton them and she assists in the process of getting them down her legs. Her panties too.
She’s not quite ready for me, but it doesn’t take much to get her slippery. I shove her shirt over her breasts and bite her nipples the way I know makes her pant. It makes me pant too, the feel of them in my mouth, against my tongue. I love how they go from silken soft to hard pebbles.
I graze her belly with my palm as I reach between us to touch her cunt. It’s wet, so fucking slick.
Fisting my cock, I slide it up and down her slit. Once, twice. Then I’m inside and she feels so fucking good I have to stop almost immediately. I want her to come. I need her to come.
So I take my time, alternating between long slow strokes, and fast powerful ones. When I near my climax, I pause to kiss her and lick my way over her abdomen to her pussy. I draw small circles around her little clit and feel it swell in my mouth. When her cries become gasps and her fists claw at the sheets, I go back to fucking her again.
It’s the third round of this when I sense she’s there, at the edge of the precipice. All it will take are a few more thrusts.
She’s gasping, her head thrown to the side, her eyes wide open. But when she turns to me as she writhes beneath, she screws them shut. And something inside me, a dominant part, doesn’t like it. It reminds me too much of the night at the club, when her focus was on the crowd.
“Look at me,” I order, because I need to see the awareness that’s it’s me between her legs. Me that’s giving her pleasure. When she doesn’t comply, I repeat, “Look at me, Andie.”
She swallows and slowly turns her head toward me. As if her lids were being pried open, they lift forcibly. Her pupils turn to mere pinpricks in a sea of cerulean when she focuses on me.
My male pride swells when she lets out a cry as I begin to pump into her harder. She squirms under me, her nails digging into my shoulders, and her moans get louder.
But it’s when she begins to shake, her gaze wide, and her cries soften, that I realize something’s wrong. Still moving inside her, I slow down enough to take in every aspect of her expression. And I freeze.
She’s not staring at me, but through me, her eyes filled with fear. Her cries aren’t cries of ecstasy, but sobs of pain. And her nails aren’t digging into my skin, but rather her fingers are curled from whatever terror she’s experiencing.
“Andie.” She doesn’t reply, but continues to weep quietly. “Andie!” Still, no response.
In a flash, I’m off her. I wrap the blanket around her and bring her to my chest tightly. I place my hand over her eyes, hoping to shut out whatever it is that she was seeing, even if that’s me.
I’m not sure how long we sit that way, with her in my arms and me rocking her. It’s long enough that her trembling ebbs and her soft cries turn into hard sobs, and back.
After a while, she calms and pushes herself away from me. She peers up at me, her cheeks tear streaked, nose red.
“It wasn’t you,” she answers my unasked question.
“Then what was it?”
She wipes her cheeks almost angrily and turns her face from me. Standing, she starts for the bathroom. And before she disappears through the door, she says, “Never ask me to look at you again while we fuck. Not if you want to keep me as your fantasy.”
13
GAVIN
What is it about Andie that fascinates me? I’ve been staring at her for an hour trying to pinpoint exactly why I can’t tear my eyes from her.
It could be the way her lips remained slightly parted after she licked them, or the way her chin moves as if she’s mimicking what she’s saying in a dream. Perhaps it’s the dewiness of her skin and the pink flush she always wears on her cheeks.
Maybe it’s the lines between her brows, the ones I desperately want to smooth. Is she fighting to remain asleep? Or is it that she’s trying to wake up, but is trapped in a nightmare?
What does she see in her dreams?
Never ask me to look at you while we fuck.
Someone hurt her. It was evident in the terror she displayed yesterday morning.
The desire to hunt down and kill, -no, not just kill, but annihilate, - a total stranger hit me like a ton of bricks and it knocked the wind out of me. All I needed was a name.
However, when I pressed her for information, she once again became agitated. I felt helpless and enraged all at once. But I let it go. I decided to give her time. A day seems good enough.
I’m about to touch a fingertip to her frown lines, when her phone buzzes. I grab it from the nightstand where it’s been charging and peer down at the screen.
