“How are things?”
“Going well.”
“Yeah? Any rumors?”
I watched the whole conversation like there was something about to happen. In my gut, I was afraid of finding out that I was right. That there was something about to happen. And I was far, far too close to the action for comfort. I tried to push myself further behind Baron. His bulk managed to cover most of my body.
“Nope,” said the second guy. The first one, the one who had called Euler boss, was silent. I guessed that had been the first and biggest of the meanings of what the man had said. “Just the wind blowing through.”
From behind, I couldn’t see Baron’s face. His posture remained unchanged.
“I’m going up to my room, then,” he said. “I’ll be down in time for supper.”
He started moving. I didn’t know if I was supposed to follow. His room, he’d said. Not our room. Not that it would have been mine before I got there. I didn’t want to assume anything, and I didn’t want to embarrass myself by asking. There was a empty feeling in my gut that things would go even worse if I let them think too hard about my presence there.
He opened a door at the top of the steps, and stepped inside without waiting for me. Without even mentioning whether or not he noticed me following him. I stepped inside after.
It wasn’t until the door was closed that things started happening, and then they started happening fast.
His hands caught around my cheeks and pulled me in tight, his lips pressed against mine. For a moment I was transfixed. Was this really happening? Why? How? And why wasn’t I thinking about stopping it?
If there was a chance to stop him, to tell him that I wasn’t interested, then it was coming on fast. And then it was gone, because I kissed him back, and the Lord damn me for it, but I wanted to.
His hands found my sides, pulled my body in close to his. My arms wrapped around his neck, pulled his lips harder into mine. His teeth bit on my lip and pulled. His body was hard against mine, every part of it, from top to bottom. I let out a hiss of arousal as his lips dropped from my lips to my jaw, and then further still. The kiss he pressed against my throat was a startling shock of pleasure.
He didn’t ask me how far I was prepared to take this. If I wanted to stop him, then it was going to be my responsibility to try and do it. I knew it, and I didn’t much care.
He pulled away from me and started working the buttons on my dress. Each button revealed another inch of flesh, until he was uncovering my underclothes. I worked to help him remove the clothes, faster if possible. Our fingers tangled up and made the whole process slower, but there was no denying ourselves. His fingers found their way inside my garment and pulled. The remaining three buttons at the bottom popped off and scrabbled across the floor.
I should have cared. But I didn’t. He pulled at my slip, freeing my breasts. He didn’t seem to pay any attention at all to the fact that it ripped; he pulled my nipple between his lips, and suddenly I didn’t much care, either.
His stiffness pressed against my hip. I replaced my hips with my hands, testing the length of it in my hand. It felt good, made me want more of it. I pulled at the belt around his hips. It thumped to the ground with a heavy metallic sound, and then I worked the second belt. It didn’t fall away, stuck through the belt loops. But it loosened his trousers enough to start trying to work one-handed on getting the fly open.
I managed it in the same time that it took him to push the rest of my clothes off. They made a pool of fabric on the floor around my ankles. I wrapped my hand around his manhood, and he pushed me back until I stumbled onto a hard mattress. He took my legs up in his arms, and entered me.
It was a new sensation. A little uncomfortable,which wasn’t entirely canceled by the pleasure that shot through me at the same time. He took me roughly and silently, except for the sound of flesh on flesh and ragged breathing.
I bit my lip hard. I wasn’t going to let out my voice. Couldn’t. I wasn’t that kind of woman. At least, I thought so at the time. And I wasn’t going to be dissuaded. At least, not then. At least not that time.
When he finally stiffened between my legs and spilled himself inside, I tried to tell myself that I was glad that it was over.
In a sense I was, though not for the reasons that I wanted.
I was glad because it meant that I could do it all over again.