SIX
Meadow
I'm confused. The drowsy disorientation I feel after just waking up from a nap is nothing new to me. I've had terrible nightmares for weeks and barely gotten any sleep, so my body involuntarily shuts down in the middle of the day, forcing my eyes to fall closed and me to drift off unexpectedly. Every time, I woke up not knowing where I was, or even what day and time it was. I’ve come to appreciate those blissful moments of ignorance, the dreamy and peaceful calm that washes over me before my mind clears and I remember the details of my current situation.
But, until now, I have never woken up with anyone by my side.
A heavy arm is flopped across my naked torso, embracing me in a lazy but possessive hug. We're on the sofa, intertwined like long-term lovers, and breathing in the same rhythm.
One by one, the memories come flooding back to me. His name is Kade. He literally grabbed me from the bridge, drawing me back to safety and life with vigor instead of empathy.
His words still ring in my head.
"One last good fuck. Is there a better way to die?"
That's what he said. Then, after I denied him, he went and added something that made him the ultimate creep, "I guess I'll just have to wait until your body washes ashore."
Was this what it was between us? The last fuck he wanted to get out of me before I die?
I don't even know how I feel about that. I should be scared, freaked out, appalled. But I feel none of these emotions.
He still seems to be fast asleep, or at least acting as if he is. His face is right next to mine, turned away from me, so I can only see the outline of his profile, his ear, the hairline framing it and the back of his head. His hair is disheveled and I'm dying to see what it looks like from the front.
I lay still, my body mostly on top of his. I’m wrapped in his one arm, while his other one is hanging over the edge of the sofa, his big hand resting on the carpet with his palm opened upward.
My cheeks blush as I remember what happened. He fucked me. Hard. He made me come before he even started, and he left me in an apathetic daze after the fourth orgasm. My pussy is sore, I can feel it even without moving. It's been so long since I've had sex — and I've never had sex like this. Raw. Violent. Impassioned. Relentless. With a man who cared about my pleasure at least as much as his own.
With every orgasm, he commanded me to look at him. His handsome face, ripped chest and the wild tattoo — those were the things I saw each time I climaxed.
Even after all of this, my body is starved for more. A hungry throbbing starts pounding inside me, and for a moment, I wonder if I should wake him up with a blow job. Because damn it, I need this. I need him . I need more.
It's still dark outside and the only light in the room comes from a small light shining in the kitchen area. I've no idea how long we fucked or how much time has passed since we fell asleep on the sofa, but I know that he kept his promise. He made me forget. He made me scream, beg and squirm. He made me feel alive and yearning for more. More life, more of him.
I carefully lift myself up to look at his sleeping face and remember the deal we made. Just this. Just today. It might be the only taste he was willing to give me. One last fuck....
I accidentally push him in the side with my elbow, which causes him to let out an annoyed groan. He opens his eyes and looks up at me with the same disoriented confusion that hit me.
I freeze, unsure what to do or say. We stare at one another as if we're seeing each other for the very first time. His hair is ruffled in all directions and his eyes narrow as he fixates his gaze on me. The hand he has on my back strokes along my spine once, twice, before he stops, as if it was a mistake.
We've just had sex. Crazy good sex, the best I've ever had and the most intimate, too. Why is neither one of us speaking?
Just as I decide to break the silence, something else does it for me. A phone rings
Meadow
I'm confused. The drowsy disorientation I feel after just waking up from a nap is nothing new to me. I've had terrible nightmares for weeks and barely gotten any sleep, so my body involuntarily shuts down in the middle of the day, forcing my eyes to fall closed and me to drift off unexpectedly. Every time, I woke up not knowing where I was, or even what day and time it was. I’ve come to appreciate those blissful moments of ignorance, the dreamy and peaceful calm that washes over me before my mind clears and I remember the details of my current situation.
But, until now, I have never woken up with anyone by my side.
A heavy arm is flopped across my naked torso, embracing me in a lazy but possessive hug. We're on the sofa, intertwined like long-term lovers, and breathing in the same rhythm.
One by one, the memories come flooding back to me. His name is Kade. He literally grabbed me from the bridge, drawing me back to safety and life with vigor instead of empathy.
His words still ring in my head.
"One last good fuck. Is there a better way to die?"
That's what he said. Then, after I denied him, he went and added something that made him the ultimate creep, "I guess I'll just have to wait until your body washes ashore."
Was this what it was between us? The last fuck he wanted to get out of me before I die?
I don't even know how I feel about that. I should be scared, freaked out, appalled. But I feel none of these emotions.
He still seems to be fast asleep, or at least acting as if he is. His face is right next to mine, turned away from me, so I can only see the outline of his profile, his ear, the hairline framing it and the back of his head. His hair is disheveled and I'm dying to see what it looks like from the front.
I lay still, my body mostly on top of his. I’m wrapped in his one arm, while his other one is hanging over the edge of the sofa, his big hand resting on the carpet with his palm opened upward.
My cheeks blush as I remember what happened. He fucked me. Hard. He made me come before he even started, and he left me in an apathetic daze after the fourth orgasm. My pussy is sore, I can feel it even without moving. It's been so long since I've had sex — and I've never had sex like this. Raw. Violent. Impassioned. Relentless. With a man who cared about my pleasure at least as much as his own.
With every orgasm, he commanded me to look at him. His handsome face, ripped chest and the wild tattoo — those were the things I saw each time I climaxed.
Even after all of this, my body is starved for more. A hungry throbbing starts pounding inside me, and for a moment, I wonder if I should wake him up with a blow job. Because damn it, I need this. I need him . I need more.
It's still dark outside and the only light in the room comes from a small light shining in the kitchen area. I've no idea how long we fucked or how much time has passed since we fell asleep on the sofa, but I know that he kept his promise. He made me forget. He made me scream, beg and squirm. He made me feel alive and yearning for more. More life, more of him.
I carefully lift myself up to look at his sleeping face and remember the deal we made. Just this. Just today. It might be the only taste he was willing to give me. One last fuck....
I accidentally push him in the side with my elbow, which causes him to let out an annoyed groan. He opens his eyes and looks up at me with the same disoriented confusion that hit me.
I freeze, unsure what to do or say. We stare at one another as if we're seeing each other for the very first time. His hair is ruffled in all directions and his eyes narrow as he fixates his gaze on me. The hand he has on my back strokes along my spine once, twice, before he stops, as if it was a mistake.
We've just had sex. Crazy good sex, the best I've ever had and the most intimate, too. Why is neither one of us speaking?
Just as I decide to break the silence, something else does it for me. A phone rings
Similar Books
