Page 12 of It Destroys Me
His fingers dug into my ass, and he lifted me up his length to the tip before he pulled me back down again. I was the one on top and doing the work, but he continued to be the back seat driver, yelling out directions because he always had to be in control.
My arms circled his neck as I rode up and down at the pace he liked, his length squeezed inside me, my cream already building up at the base because I’d started to drip the second he’d stepped into the room. The second I looked at this drop-dead gorgeous man, I was a fucking mess. A desperate, needy mess. My heart was outside my chest and in his palm. He could squeeze it until it burst—or he could hold it tight and protect it.
I wasn’t sure which he would do.
“Fuck, this pussy…” His eyes were on me as I moved up and down, our faces remaining level because he was so much taller than me, even when I sat on his lap. His hands squeezed my waist as he continued to guide me, his dick burrowing itself inside over and over, the pace increasing as his breaths turned harsh and labored.
He wasn’t a verbal lover. He rarely said anything, whether we were fucking or not. To hear him say something like that and sound so sexy with that deep voice was so arousing. To hear how much he wanted me was a major turn-on. The line of beautiful women who waited their turn to ride this man must have been long, but he made me feel like the only woman he wanted in his life.
Locked in a slow dance, we moved and breathed together, both our bodies flushed and sweaty. An ache formed in my lower back, but I continued to dip and rock because it felt so damn good. To feel him. To touch him. To lock our eyes together like they were bound by an invisible connection that was beyond time and space. It was the kind of intimacy I’d never shared with anyone…even my own husband.
“Sweetheart.” His eyes latched on mine with an iron grip. “You’re killing me here.”
My body was soaked, and the fire had kindled. There was already ash and smoke from the burn. But I was so lost in the view, I let myself go. The connection felt deeper than two people who gave in to their lust in the middle of an art gallery. I’d desired him the moment I saw him in the rain, but my desire for him was deeper than the flesh…and the muscles and the ink. I finally let my body flow with the tide, let my body contract around his length with the strength of a viper, and I gave in to the tears that burned hot before they filled the corners of my eyes…and then fell.
He clenched his eyes shut briefly as his dick hardened even further inside me. A flush moved across his face and neck, a trail of heat that burned his skin. When he looked at me again, it was with the darkness and desire of the underworld. His hands squeezed me tight until it hurt, his dick filling me with another load, his stare claiming me like his body hadn’t already.
The relief was like a summer breeze that blew the strands from my face. All the aches and pains had been eased by his touch, the intimacy and desire he was unafraid to show. He said little, but he still wore his thoughts on his sleeve. Bolton lied to my face countless times, but Theo would tell the truth, no matter how deep it cut.
I felt my heart go weak because I already felt it. Already knew how invested I was in someone who warned he would never be invested in me. It was too soon to feel something so strong for someone when I wasn’t even divorced yet, but the intensity was so profound, it was easy to forget I was married in the first place.
I stayed on his lap, his dick still inside me, substantial despite the way he relaxed.
The intensity had faded from his eyes, but he continued to look at me like I was the most remarkable painting he’d ever seen. “Ever done that before?”
My eyes narrowed.
“In here.”
“God, no.” I was a good girl who always followed the rules. Never deviated from the plan. Couldn’t lie if my life depended on it.
He showed no sign of satisfaction with that. His eyes broke contact, and he glanced at the watch on his wrist. “I’ve got shit to do.” He seemed to withdraw from me like a tide moving out to sea in the absence of the full moon.
It hurt. It hurt because it seemed like there was nothing I could do to change it. We had our moments, beautiful and surreal, but then he put up a wall again. Was the wall built of his resentment? Or was it precautionary? Was he determined to keep me at a distance in his mind so I would never approach his heart?
I didn’t ask.
I left his lap and picked up my clothes. With my back turned to him, I dressed. I righted the G-string the best I could, even though it was stretched out and loose after he’d tugged on it. I buttoned up my blouse and tucked it into my skirt. When I turned around, he was fully dressed, looking just as sexy in his shirt and jeans as he had when he was buck naked in that chair.
His hard stare settled on me.
I tried to save face. “Thanks for lunch” Thanks for the dick, is more like it.
He ignored what I said. “You’re angry.”
That intuition was still as sharp as ever. “I’m not angry.”
“Then what are you?”
“I thought you had shit to do.”
He stepped closer to me. “I just told you I’m never too busy for you, sweetheart. So tell me what just happened.”
My arms crossed over my chest, and my eyes moved elsewhere.
He continued to stare hard at my face, his heat like the sun.
“The second I feel close to you, you disappear.” I stared at the blank wall that had captured our attention at different times. “You said you would try, but you’re doing a shitty job of it.”