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Demyen’s hands smooth over my back, caressing the dip of my waist, the sides of my breasts, up into my hair. He strokes the tousled waves over one shoulder and leans over me until I feel his bare chest pressed to my back. At some point, he managed towork his shirt open and his pants all the way down and now it’s him and me, skin to skin.
“What if I want to fuck you in front of him?” he muses.
He doesn’t actually need me to answer. The way I suddenly shudder and surge around his cock is answer enough.
“What if…” Demyen slips a hand between my breasts, up until it’s wrapped around my throat. Not squeezing, just pressing. Holding me firm against him, even as I keep trying to fuck myself on his dick. “What if I make him watch us, just like this?”
“You did.” I turn my head enough so he can see I’m telling the truth. “In my fantasy, when you watched me finger myself… that’s exactly what you did. I begged you to.”
His smirk broadens. “Good. Fucking. Girl.”
Whatever response I might have had is thrown out the window with the way he devours me in a searing kiss the same time he finally,finallythrusts into me.
Hard.
Fast.
Deep.
I’m clawing at the washing machine, but the way he’s holding me against him gives him leverage to pull me away from it so I have no choice but to take him.
I don’t even realize my eyes are rolling back into my head until he eases his grip on my throat and I gasp. Air rushes into my lungs and I scream as another orgasm rips through my body without warning.
“That’s it, baby.” Demyen holds me there. His voice is starting to fray and break apart as he gets closer. “Scream my name. Tell him who you belong to.”
“Dem… Demyen… fuck, Demyen…”
“Yeah, baby. That’s right.” He grunts, pushing into me harder and deeper than before. Long, solid, sure strokes that make me grunt. “I’ve got you. I’m right here. Take it.”
He keeps one hand on my throat and slides the other down to where we’re joined between my legs. I cry out when I feel his fingers circle my clit, then shudder and squeal when he begins to rub faster and faster.
“I’m not fucking done with you, Clara. Not yet.”
I’m gonna pass out. It’s too much. Darkness creeps in around the edges and, just when I think I’m about to blackout, I feel him surge inside me. Once, twice, bottoming out the third time as heat suddenly pours into me.
He bites my shoulder hard as he groans, grunts, then murmurs my name over and over until he starts to soften inside me.
“Clara. Goddamn. Fuck.”
I don’t know how long we both stand there, slumped against the washing machine, panting and clinging to each other as we try to regain some semblance of consciousness. Even when he eases out of me, Demyen still holds me close, his face buried in my neck.
I slowly turn to face him. I don’t want him to let go and I don’t want to lose this rare moment of actually being allowed to touch him. For a few blissful seconds, our brows press together and we almost, almost share an exhausted kiss.
But for some reason, we don’t.
I can’t put my finger on what exactly it is that settles between us. But whatever it is, I hate it.
Demyen slowly pulls away and looks around the room. He finds my dress and hands it to me, looking away as I slide my bra back on and toss my torn panties into the lint bin. I watch him tug his pants back on and grab the shirt that he threw off to the side at one point.
And still, he doesn’t look at me.
The silence is so deep that I almost jump when he finally speaks. “You okay?” It looks like it takes a world of effort to drag his gaze to me.
I almost laugh. Almost.I am way, way more than okay,I want to tell him. But the way his face seems so stoic and taut keeps me quiet.
So I simply nod. “Yeah.”
He nods. “That, ah…” He clears his throat and finds something fascinating to stare at on the far wall. “That was a one-time thing.”
