***
It’s after four in the morning when I bitterly douse the lights and climb into bed. The floor is cold and quiet throughout the house. I wonder what happened with Miles’ message. Where did I go wrong?
Maybe she was asleep. Maybe she thought I was mad and she didn’t want to come. Maybe Candace was suspicious.
Maybe Roxanne scoffed in his face and told him I’m a complete psychopath, the beast who snapped once. The man who can’t make a single excuse about his behavior. The one she looks at and only sees the fists. The one she looks at, and only sees her piece-of-shit ex.
I’m doing meditations and breathing exercises to unwind from the stress of being stood up when I hear hinges turn.
I prop myself up on my elbow, scanning the shadows. “Miles?”
A disembodied giggle bubbles across the darkness.
“Roxanne?”
“Blake?” comes whispering back, like a reverse echo.
Roxanne inches forward in the darkness. All I can see is wild hair and a curvaceous silhouette. I can’t tell what she’s wearing and imagine running my hands over warm, bare skin.
“I’m here. In bed.” My prick is already filling with blood, even though we’re supposed to be having that mature conversation. We’re alone at last, in a bedroom at four o’clock in the morning, both wide awake, one of us already completely nude. Hell, we leave for America in the morning. And I’m about to waste all that time convincing her to trust me. Oh well. “What took you so long?”
“Um. What?” Roxanne wonders.
“What took you so long to come?” I reiterate. “I sent a message two hours ago.”
“What, like a text?”
That would have been simpler. I should have her phone number.
“Through my man,” I say. “Miles didn’t come to your trailer and tell you to come over?”
“No. No one came. Actually, the door was locked when I tried to come.”
I grin. “You knew the key went to the lock on the front door.”
“I thought it was worth a try.”
I smile until my cheeks pinch. “That works on so many levels,” I tell her.
“I wanted to see you,” she finishes in that husky, honeyed voice, and I forget all about Miles and the failed mission. Miles could be on Uranus now. Fuck Miles.
The bed sinks as Roxanne crawls aboard, and my heart starts going like a jackhammer. My prick pounds out a slower, steadier rhythm. I could almost swear my dick is getting the majority of the blood, though. I tell myself she’s just here to talk. She’s just here to talk.
“Before we go back to LA,” she continues, almost within kissing range now. Christ, I can smell her. She’s already wet, I know it. She already smells lightly of sex, like she’s an animal sweating out pheromones. “Blake… I want you to know that I do care.”
This erection is too strong, and she’s moving too slowly. I can barely hear her voice over the throbbing. She’s so close.
“I want to be a real friend to you,” she promises me. Her silhouette is on hands and knees right in front of me.
I pop up and bind my arms around her, twisting her and whipping her down flat on the mattress. She gasps at how quickly it all happens, but it’s still not fast enough.
“If you just want to be a friend to me,” I say, voice thick, “you need to get out of this bed right now.”
She wears a very loose and flimsy tank top romper.My gazess and
The moonlight through the window washes her skin out, and it contrasts highly with her dark hair and eyes. Her lips look dark, too. She’s monochromatic, like a memory in a dream. I think I’m falling in fucking love with her.
Roxanne gulps. “I don’t just want to be your friend,” she whispers, pinned beneath me, my rod pulsing between her damp thighs.
I nuzzle down into Roxanne’s creamy neck and drag her scent through my nostrils. It’s a salty and warm, buttery sweet scent, the way a woman gets between her legs when her body wants a baby the most. It’s my kryptonite. I lose a hand inside her romper and feel her soaked slit. My eyes roll back in my head, and I murmur to God about it. She’s amazing.
This is all I want in the entire world. Take my billions, but leave me this pussy. Literal heat wafts off her mons. I slide a finger inside her and shudder. She’s so slick and tight, contoured to my fingertips. I might pass out.
The narrow crotch her romper provides stretches out of shape by the stroking of my hand, exposing her pussy to me. My free hand aims my dick and lets the head play over her pink strip. Every time I feel her button or her hole—the bottom and the top of my torturous trek—my jaw clenches and the room gives a little spin for me. I need to be inside her. I can’t think straight with her body right under me, piping hot and so soft. So penetrable. Is she ready?
My head catches against her entrance, and it puckers at me like another mouth. I groan and take it back from her.
Roxanne moans softly as I hit her clit repeatedly with my plush head. Every time I accidentally linger too far south, her hole sucks at me again. It’s kind of amazing, and I give up to the momentum, sinking into her bare-skinned. My vision colors with a psychedelic pinwheel for a second; that’s how good it is. She’s drenched and almost feverish, and her muscles clamp my member like a vice.
I drive a hand into Roxanne’s hair, and I lose my mind. I pump, and she shrills and clings to me and talks in tongues. It lasts for an eternity and seconds at once, then I twist her on her stomach and relish her ass with my hands, worshipping her body. I lunge forward and sink my teeth into the crest of her shoulder. She reels into me and opens up. I go deeper. Finally.
Then she’s on top of me. It happens so quickly, so artfully, and I realize that I recognize it.
“That was jiu-jitsu,” I breathe.
Roxanne grins down at me. “I guess it was,” she confesses.
“Oh, this is going to be fun.” I grab her hair harder and go deeper, then roll with her and come up on my knees. I hold her hips in the air, and she forms a bridge easily, naturally. Jesus Christ. I go deeper. I don’t know how it’s possible that I keep finding these new levels inside her, or how it’s possible that they only get sweeter and sweeter.
I peel Roxanne’s torso up to mine and duck my head to take her nipple in my mouth. It’s sweet, and I suck for a long time, losing myself inside her, working us both up to a slow, steady froth again. I love having her right in front of me. Sitting up. Eyes open.
She catches me staring at her with my lusty glare, and she smiles bashfully, which brings a quick rush of heat up my shaft.
“You know what I love about you?” I pant.
“What?”
“You’re so real. Everyone around me is always hyper-aware of themselves, but you? You’re real.”
“I’m definitely hyper-aware of myself,” she assures me breathlessly. I huff out a laugh and pin her back down to the mattress, digging deep into her luscious thighs. Her whole body has a sheen now, and we’ve been bathing in the moonlight for so long that I can see everything in perfect, bluish detail.
“Have you come yet?” I ask her. If she did, it was a quiet orgasm. She feels so tight, it’s impossible to distinguish tightening.
“I don’t know,” she says. “I kind of feel like I’m having little orgasms all the… all the…” Her eyelashes flutter, and I feel a little twist on my shaft. I pulse back at her. “…time,” she finishes.
“Then the answer,” I tell her, drawing my dick from her pussy and slithering down her torso to her gleaming mons, “is no.”
My tongue fans up and rolls over her nub, and she whimpers and bucks her hips a little bit. “I could live off of this juice,” I swear to her. My mouth comes down to her hole, where most experienced cunnilingus performers don’t linger. I understand that the girth and length of my tongue is a tease at best, nothing to be compared with my penis, but I don’t care. I stick my tongue inside her because I want to taste her, I want to taste us. She makes me feel loose and experimental.
My tongue skates back up her strip and I gnaw at her, dragging her forward inch by unyielding inch.
She’s here and she wants me; I know she does. I feel her writhing and hear her whimpering, but she’s just not coming.
I’m dazed and rubbery-lipped when I finally blink up at her and tell her, “If there’s something you want, something special that gets you off hard, I can do that.”
Her fingers dig into my hair affectionately. “You get me off hard,” Roxanne insists.
“Apparently not,” I reply with a little laugh. I glance at the clock. It’s almost 5 in the morning now, and she still hasn’t had an orgasm.
“You made me come in the garden,” Roxanne reminds me thoughtfully. Even now, the tone of her voice makes my heart sink. She sounds so contemplative. That’s not the way a woman should sound in the middle of coitus. She should sound…bedraggled. Rough. Windswept. Like she’s coming in from a hurricane.
“You’re all up in your head,” I tell her, resting my chin thoughtfully on her sweat-slick mons. God, I want to come inside her–my dick pulses, pressed against the sheets like a heart between my legs–but I don’t want to let go unless she’s letting go at the same damn time. “What is it?”
Roxanne presses her lips together and pulls in a deep breath, expelled in a cathartic sigh. “I was thinking about our episode tonight–how I can’t believe we came from that fake world into this–and thinking about the fake date made me remember what Candace said.”
“You’re going to have to narrow it down. Candace says a lot of things.”
“That I need to be careful with television appearances,” Roxanne answers, sounding weak, almost beaten. “That Jared might see me and come find me again.”
I nod and come up from between her legs. I want to make her forget all about Jared. This is our moment. Not his.
I hover over Roxanne, peering dotingly down at her beautiful face.
“Roxanne,” I say. “As long as I am with you, you’re safe. I’ll never let him hurt you again. I’d sooner kill him. Anyway, if he does try to track you down, he’s just going to end up in Edessa, Greece, isn’t he?”
“It’s easy for you to say,” she replies, her gaze flicking toward the wall. “You can say whatever you want. I go back to America tomorrow. I live in Los Angeles, Blake. He can find out the name of the studio from the show. He could just…he could just park outside the gates until he sees me leaving.” The last sentence is so tiny and delicate, I almost can’t hear it. She sounds like a little girl all of a sudden. “He told me that he would kill me if I ever left him. He said that he couldn’t bear to live without me. Especially seeing me on a date with another man…” Her voice gets even smaller. “He would kill me.”
“He can’t,” I assure her firmly, leaning down and pressing kisses across her face and down her neck. I must love her, because hearing her voice get so little and scared rips my heart like teeth. “Because you’re not just Roxanne anymore, a makeup girl in Los Angeles. You’re mine. And I’ll protect you.”
“Am I yours?”
I say the words as I think them, with zero filter in between. “I want you to come back to Newbury with me when this is all over,” I blurt. “I want you here.”
“You’re fucking with me.” Roxanne’s voice turns husky and strong again, brought forth by what appears to be amusement.
“I’m not,” I tell her, crawling my way back down her body. I relish her sensitive nipples, her dramatic curves, and reach her tender little nub again. This was supposed to be forbidden, but here I am with the fruit at my fingertips. “I want you here. Tell me you’ll come.”
There are two beats of silence, and then a soft, “I’ll come.”
My mouth descends, wet and strong, on her pussy. She’s going to come all right. My hands bind around her thick thighs and I eat her harder. Faster. Her nerves zing back to life after their brief rest period, snowballing quickly back to where they used to be.
“Tell me you’ll come,” I breathe against her clit. I love hearing the words.
“I’ll come,” she promises breathlessly, nodding with her eyes closed. “I’ll…I’ll…oh…” Her fingers dig deep against my scalp, and I don’t give a shit. I can’t even feel my mouth anymore, and I keep working her. All I feel is this delicious little clit against my tongue. “I’ll come,” she cries, grinding against my face. “Oh, god, I’ll come!”
Her head arches back against the pillow, and her mouth yawns open as her nectar pours over my chin. I hold her down and tongue her hard regardless of how loud she screams, until finally, she kicks me square in the shoulder.
“Ah,” I say, relinquishing her pussy.
“I’m good,” she pants. “I’m good.”
“Good.”
There’s no sense of time here, and even though we’ve been working toward her orgasm for a while, the energy on this mattress is still scintillating. I start angling to slide back into her, but Roxanne plants a hand on mine and forces herself into a sitting position.
“Easy.” I laugh at how bonelessly she clambers upright. The poor girl is like a marionette with broken strings. I did that to her. It warms my heart to see her muscles converted to jelly over me. “What is it?”
“You go down on me like a deep-sea diver every time you get the chance,” Roxanne breathes. “Let me get you back.”
My heart leaves my dick and comes up to my throat. Those full lips—almost a fetish for me at this point—are going sliding down my pole. I think of her throat, stroking me, bringing me to the edge, and my head tingles. This is going to be intense.
Her tongue trails up my shaft, preparing me for her mouth. “Mm,” she murmurs as she goes. “I taste good.”
“Fuck yes, you do,” I rumble down to her.
She takes my entire head in her mouth at once and the world goes black and warm and sweet, as if I’ve died and this mouth is my glowing tunnel. I let my hands go to her hair and pump into her. I know some girls don’t like that, especially with well-endowed men, but I can’t help myself. I have to go deeper and faster.
But she doesn’t stop me. Her throat opens up and she takes me like such a good fucking girl. She sucks me off like she loves my dick, even though it’s a little too big for this kind of thing. God, I love her. I feel her pussy bump against my leg as she lunges up and down on my cock, the stretched crotch of her romper providing no coverage anymore. I reel as I realize that she’s wet. Right now, blowing me. She’s dripping on my leg, she’s so turned on. I seethe and watch her work, mesmerized.
Roxanne’s hand pumps behind her mouth, along my shaft, and my steely thighs clamp down. Her other hand scoops beneath my balls, rubbing them and rolling them. But then her fingers find my perineum and grind against it lovingly. My eyes go blind for a second, and an incredible rush of wet heat spirals up my prick, culminating at the head. My dick feels like it’s vibrating. I can see again. I’ve never had sex with vision distortions, but I’ve had three so far tonight.
“No!” I bark down to her, shocked to realize that I’m teetering on the brink of blowing a massive load into her mouth. “I need your pussy.”
I need to feel her deep, churning around me, so hot and ready. So right. I need to feel that pussy again.
I tug on her hair and free my tingling staff from her mouth. Oh, god, it still feels like I could come any second. I sweep my fingers over her snatch to test her wetness, then moan. It’s otherworldly. I tear off her ruined romper and pitch it to the floor.
Grasping my cock, I play him over her hole, which still puckers around my head every time I pass it.
“Are you ready?” I ask thickly.
“Jesus,” Roxanne murmurs in response, eyes rolling in the back of her head. “Do it already.”
I don’t need any more than that. I sink into her completely, from tip to hilt, in one slow, glorious plunge. Fireworks spread under my skin, and I can barely move for fear of coming everywhere. Her breath gasps and jerks and flutters out in crazy sighs, and I close my eyes and breathe. Deep. In. Out.
As I concentrate on breathing, leaving behind this animalistic, frenzied fuck—which, in spite of that, has lasted over an hour—my need to orgasm recedes enough that I can thrust into her without toppling over the brink. I position my arms properly, breathe, and thrust. I open my eyes and gaze down at Roxanne, who peers back up at me, noticing the sudden change of pace.
“Slowing down,” she notes, breathless and sweaty.
“Making it last,” I say, inhaling deeply, exhaling deeply.
“You don’t have to do that,” Roxanne whispers up to me. “I want to feel you come, Blake.” Her voice is low and drugged, like she’s not even herself anymore. “I want it.”
I ignore how fucking sexy she is and breathe. “You don’t like this?” Breathe.
“No,” she says. “I want you to—”
Without a word, I grip her hips, tilt them, spread her thighs as far apart as they will go, and lift her into the air. I pound mercilessly into her, maintaining my breathing, keeping my eyes unfocused and on the wall. If I look at her, I swear to God, I’m going to come even if nothing’s touching me. I’m that ready to blow. But I stare at the wall and detach from the intense pleasure in my body, just…fucking…railing Roxanne. She yodels beneath me, and I assume she’s all right. I can’t look at her.
“You don’t like this?” I ask her again.
“Uhhh,” Roxanne replies.
I slide from her pussy, and she whimpers as I leave her clutching walls. I tilt her hips further until her right hip is flush against the mattress and her left hip is in the air, then split her thighs again and lay down on my side, perpendicular to her. I grasp her left leg and hold it in the air. I gyrate my hips with the speed and looseness of a dancer, filling her again and again. She shrills and clamps and gushes all over my prick again. I just keep breathing and pumping. Breathing and pumping.
“From behind now,” I pant down to her, and she twists onto her hands and knees in a graceful flow. I grasp her hips, breathe, look at the wall, and guide myself into her again. She’s utterly full at this angle; my prick barely fits. My tip hits her sensitive center, but she loves it. I know because she presses against me. She doesn’t recoil.
My palms slide over her generous ass.
Breathe. Breathe.
It’s so round and smooth, like a peach. My cock trembles inside her.
Breathe.
My hands treasure her ass, and I spread her cheeks a little.
I pump in and out of her.
Breathe. Breathe.
I look down instead of looking at the wall. I skate one finger over her tight little asshole.
Breathe.
She whimpers responsively, and I see that psychedelic pinwheel again for a second. I force my eyes up to the wall. Breathe. Breathe. Don’t feel it too closely.
I test her ass with one finger, up to the knuckle, and my composure breaks. I let out a little cry myself. It’s so impossibly tight, but she doesn’t say no. She still comes back to meet me with her pussy, just as hard as she did before.
Breathe. Breathe. Oh, god. Breathe.
“You like this,” I breathe down to her, moving my finger and my prick at the same time. I’ve heard that, after an erogenous zone gets worked over hard enough, it all becomes the same. You can’t even tell the difference anymore, it all feels so good. “Don’t you?”
“Mm,” Roxanne murmurs, and I move my finger deeper, amazed at how hard it makes me, even though this is just a fucking finger in an ass. I have to close my eyes. It’s getting too sweet. Just breathe! “I wish there was another you in front of me,” Roxanne says. “So I could suck your dick right now…”
“Ohhh,” I moan, shocked as orgasm pours out of my cock. “Oh, oh, oh, oh.” I grasp her shoulders and pump into her as deeply as I can. Finally.
I collapse onto the mattress, dragging Roxanne’s limp body with mine. The entire room reeks of sex, and so do we. Gray light pours in through the windows. It’s dawn. Fuck.
“I’ve got to go,” Roxanne grumbles.
“Stay,” I whisper. I wrap my arms around her, but they fall together as she slithers off the bed and onto the floor. She creeps to her romper and shimmies back into it, even if the poor thing is ruined. The top sags around her breasts and the crotch sags. You can tell someone was ravaged tonight.
“I can’t,” Roxanne whispers back. “If Candace catches me… you know.” Her key winks in the pale dawn light as she turns, disappearing through the door.