Beautiful Bastard
More laughter came from outside. Joel was down there. Joel, who was basically a good guy, but who wanted to take her away from me. The image was enough to make me push into her more forcefully.
Her strangled sounds made me smile, and I rewarded her with an increase in tempo. A twisted part of me felt a sense of vindication seeing Chloe muted by what I did to her.
She was gasping, fingers searching for something to hold on to, and my c**k so hard inside her, harder every time she tried to make a sound but couldn’t.
Speaking softly against her ear, I asked if she wanted to be f**ked. I asked her if she liked my mouth dirty, if she liked to see me filthy like this, taking her so rough she would bruise.
She stuttered out a yes, and when I moved faster and harder, she begged for more.
The bottles and jars on the table were rattling and tipping over with the force of our movements, but I couldn’t find it in myself to care. Gripping her hair, I pulled her up so her back was against my chest. “Do you think he can make you feel this way?”
I continued to thrust in and out of her, forcing her to look out the window.
I knew I was slipping. My walls were falling around me but I didn’t care. I needed her to think of me tonight as she lay in bed. I wanted her to feel me when she closed her eyes and touched herself, remembering the way I’d f**ked her. My free hand ran up her sides to her breast, cupping it and twisting her ni**les.
“No,” she moaned. “Never like this.” Sliding my hand down her side I placed it behind her knee and hitched it up to the table, opening her up wider and allowing my thrusts to deepen.
“Do you feel how perfectly you fit around me?” I groaned into her neck. “You feel so f**king good. When you go downstairs, I want you to remember this. Remember what you do to me.”
The sensation was becoming too overwhelming and I knew I was getting close. I was beyond desperate. I craved her like a drug, and this feeling consumed my every waking thought. Taking her hand in mine, I laced our fingers and moved them down her body to her clit, both our hands stroking and teasing. I groaned as I felt myself glide in and out of her.
“Do you feel that?” I whispered into her ear, spreading our fingers so they slipped on either side of me.
She turned her head and whimpered into the skin of my neck. It wasn’t enough, and I needed to keep her quiet. Removing my hand from her hair, I gently covered her mouth and placed a kiss against her flushed cheek. She let out a muffled cry, the possible sound of my name, as her body tensed and then tightened all around me.
After her eyes closed and her lips relaxed into a satisfied sigh, I started taking what I needed: faster now, watching in the mirror so I could see how my thrusts made her br**sts move.
My climax began to rip through me. Her hand fell from my hair to cover my own mouth and I closed my eyes and let the wave overtake me. My final thrusts were deep and hard as I spilled into her.
I opened my eyes, kissing her palm before removing it from my mouth and laying my forehead against her shoulder. The oblivious voices from below continued to carry up to us. She leaned back into me and we stood there quietly for a few moments.
Slowly, she began to pull away, and I frowned at the loss of contact. I watched as she straightened her skirt, retrieved her bra, and attempted to retie the straps of her top. As I reached down to pull up my pants, I grabbed the torn lace of her underwear, shoving it into my pocket. She was still struggling with her dress and I walked over, brushing her hands away and retying the straps without meeting her gaze.
The room was suddenly too small and we glanced at each other once in an uncomfortable silence. I reached for the knob, wanting to say something, anything, to fix this. How could I ask her to f**k me and only me, and not expect anything else to change? Even I knew asking for that was likely to earn me a swift kick to the nuts. But the language for what I felt when I saw her with Joel wasn’t crystallizing fast enough. My mind was blank. Frustrated, I opened the door. We both stopped short at the sight before us.
There, standing outside the doorway, arms folded and eyebrow raised knowingly, was Mina.
Eight
The moment he opened the door and we came face-to-face with Mina, I froze.
“What exactly were you two doing in there?” she asked, her eyes moving between the two of us. A recap of all she could have heard flashed through my head, and I felt a burst of heat spread along my skin.
I chanced a look over to Mr. Ryan as he did the same, then turned back to Mina and shook my head. “Nothing, we needed to talk. That’s all.” I tried to play it off, but knew the tremor in my voice gave me away.
“Oh, I heard something in there, but it certainly wasn’t talking,” she said, smirking.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Mina. We were discussing an issue at work,” he said, trying to move around her.
“In the bathroom?” she asked.
“Yes. You sent me up here to find her. This is where I found her.”
She shifted in front of him, blocking his path. “Do you think I’m stupid? It’s no secret that you two don’t discuss anything; you yell. So, what? Are you two, like, dating now?”
“No!” We both yelled at once, our eyes meeting for a brief moment before quickly darting away.
“So . . . you’re just f**king then,” she said, and it seemed that neither of us could find the words to reply. The tension in that hallway was so heavy I briefly considered how much damage a jump from a third-story window could do. “For how long?”
“Mina . . .” he began, shaking his head, and for once I actually felt bad about his discomfort. I’d never seen him look like this before. It was as if all this time it really hadn’t occurred to him that there could be consequences outside of our own turmoil.