Falling Away (Fall Away #3)(91)
Author: Penelope Douglas

Her lips trembled, and her breath shook as she tried to pry her body away from mine.

“And it’ll be only you,” I promised, my throat tight. “You’re the only one I want.”

I covered her mouth with mine, drowning out her whimpers and begging her with my body. My hands gripped her ass, pushing her into the edge of the desk, and I kissed her fast and hard. The salt of her sweat hit my tongue.

I pulled back, seeing her scared eyes looking up at me, but I didn’t hesitate. Reaching behind her, I swiped my arm over the desktop, sending all of Penley’s shit flying to the floor, and then I hoisted her up, claiming her mouth again.

“Say it,” I demanded. I needed to hear the words.

But she simply pulled back and lifted my shirt over my head, throwing it to the floor.

I breathed hard, seeing the heat in her eyes, and tore open the buttons on my shorts as she undid the buttons of her shirt.

My cock sprang free, the pressure of needing her fucking body making me ache. I was swelled and hard, and she was doing this to me.

I bit her bottom lip, ready to fucking eat her as I hooked her under her knees and yanked her down to the end of the desk. Grabbing hold of her thong under her skirt, I ripped it clean from her wet, hot skin.

“Whenever I call. Whenever I fucking say,” I ordered.

And I drove inside her.

“Ah,” she whimpered, holding my neck.

“Goddamn it,” I groaned. “So fucking good.”

Leaning over her and grasping the back of her neck, I pumped my hips, sinking into her up to the hilt.

Her pussy tightened around me, holding me strong as I slid back and forth, faster and faster.

The small, hot bursts of her breath quaked against my neck, and I threaded my fingers through her hair, holding her there.

Right there against me—I closed my eyes—where I could feel every shake, moan, and beat of her heart.

And when her nails dug into my arms and she started crying out, I squeezed her body tight, barely noticing that she’d sunk her teeth into the bottom of my neck.

“Harder,” I begged, still holding her by her hair and pressing her head into my skin.

She bit harder, her teeth trying to close around my skin, and I absorbed every moan and whimper coming out of her sweet mouth as she tried to keep herself quiet.

“Say it,” I demanded. “I need to hear it.”

She let her head fall back as she looked up at me and whispered, “Damn, baby, that feels good. I love you inside me.”

I narrowed my eyes, hardening my tone. “Say it,” I bit out.

“Mmm … ,” she moaned, closing her eyes. “I’ll be your good little slut. I promise.”

What the fuck?

What was she doing? Why was she making it dirty?

I pulled out of her, spun her around, and lifted her skirt.

“You know what I want to hear, Juliet,” I insisted, sliding back into her again. “Fucking say it!”

She pushed up on her hands, taking what I gave her as I gripped her hip with one hand and wrapped the other around the front of her neck, breathing into her skin. “Yeah, fuck me harder,” she begged. “Is that it, baby? Am I good? Am I tight enough for you?”

My eyes burned, and I closed them, feeling my stomach roll. “Don’t,” I whispered into her neck. “Don’t talk like that. It’s not you,” I said. “You know what I want hear. Three words. Please,” I pleaded.

My chest shook, she felt so good, but this wasn’t what I wanted. Not like this.

I wanted my Juliet.

Her head fell back softly against my shoulder, and I felt her breath on my skin. “You want to hear it?” she whispered.

A drop of sweat glided down my back, and I kissed her neck, feeling relief. “Yes.”

She turned her head, her breath falling over my face, and she murmured, “I love you.”

I snapped my eyes open.

“No,” I said low, thrusting harder.

“I love you, Jax,” she said sadly. “I love you so much.”

“Stop it.”

“I love you.” She dropped her head forward, crying softly. “I love you.”

I slowed my hips, coming to a stop as the muscles in my back tensed. I squeezed my eyes shut, a tear hanging at the corner.

“Baby, don’t do this,” I mourned.

“I love you,” she repeated, shaking her head and crying. “Only. Ever. You.”

I dropped my head and slowly stepped back, too ashamed to look at her. Why would she love me? I would never hold her above myself. I would never put her first. She deserved a man, not a scared kid in disguise.

I stared at the floor, anguish boiling under the surface of my skin as I blindly fastened my shorts and backed far away from her.

She straightened her back and turned around, her arms hanging limp at her side, but her shoulders squared and her stance strong. She was looking at me, but my eyes shifted, unable to reach her face.

Her pleated white skirt fell to her knees, and her white flats were planted on the floor, everything as still as a statue. Her sleeveless blue blouse hung off her arms in a mess, but her white bra sat against beautiful tanned skin that glistened with sweat.

That was my girl. Mine. And she was waiting for me to do something or say something, to be a man, and I couldn’t fucking find the balls to take her back.

I heard her swallow, the room was so silent, and I just stood there as she quietly buttoned up her blouse, tucked it in, and walked out of the room.

I ran my hand through my hair and for the first time in my life, I actually wanted to get drunk. I’d never sought escape like that.

I headed for the door, bending over to swipe up my T-shirt and throw it on as I made my way out of the building.

Home. I’d go home, get obliterated, and check out, because I had no fucking clue what I was going to do without her or what my next move was.

Climbing into the car, I twisted my fist around the steering wheel and slammed the door, thankful that the parking lot was still empty. Very few people ever saw me mad, and I liked it that way. It’s hard to anticipate what you don’t understand, and I liked to keep myself in check. Most of the time.

I turned the ignition and blasted the stereo, the car vibrating under me. I shifted into reverse and checked the rearview mirror.

And stopped.

I narrowed my eyes, seeing her marks on my neck—her bite marks.

I reached up, running my fingers over the deep abrasions, feeling the dips where her teeth and mouth had been. She hadn’t broken the skin, but it was bruised red and purple.