TRACE
She was killing him. A slow, horrible death, like a shot to the gut. It felt like he’d been shot and left to die for days. He felt like his insides were raw, festering, like he was finished. He ached. All the loneliness, anger, anguish, shame, regret, and pain from the past year rose up sharply. His chest burned with the bitter acridness of a life ill spent.
He needed to leave. To get the hell out of there. He needed to put as much distance between him and Sandy as he could. He was worse for her than he’d ever been. If she’d deserved better in the past, she sure as fuck deserved a thousand times better than him now. He’d been a saint back then in comparison.
But she was looking at him like she could save him.
She gripped his jacket like she couldn’t bear for him to leave.
She threaded her arms around his neck and twisted her fingers in his hair. Her beautiful, lush body pressed up against his, ripe curves to all his hard planes.
And then she wrenched his face down and kissed him.
He was lost.
His stomach clenched. His hands gripped Sandra around the waist so tightly that it had to hurt. He blistered her mouth with his. He licked at the seam of her lips and when she opened for him, he pushed his tongue inside. He lost his mind. He couldn’t fucking think straight to save his life.
She ripped her face away and stared up at him, breathing as raggedly as he was. “I’ve thought about this for years. What it would be like to kiss you again.” He closed his eyes. He had to get out of there. A stinging blow across his cheek brought him out of it real fast. “Stay here,” Sandra ordered. “Stay right here with me.”
“You just slapped me,” he said in amazement.
She nodded. “I did. You were trying to drift off. Trying to be logical and rational. You can’t be those things and be here with me. I want you to be here with me.” Her eyes twinkled with devilment. “Are you going to punish me?”
Fuck. Fuck, fuck. I am so fucking screwed. Punish her? Hell, he wanted to. He imagined taking her over his lap and spanking that curvy bottom until it was an angry red. Fuck, he imagined pushing her panties aside after, sinking his tongue into that sweet pussy and eating her until she came all over his face in a hot, wet rush.
“You do want to punish me,” she said darkly. “So do it. The door is locked. We’re alone. You left me. You left me years ago. I wasn’t done with you then. I’m not done with you now.”
“Sandy…”
“No. No, I don’t want to hear about all the reasons you can’t. I don’t want to think about all the reasons I shouldn’t. It’s just us. Right here, right now. If that’s all we can ever have, I’ll take it and be thankful for it. You can leave after. You can pretend this never happened, but I need this.”
“I- I can’t…”
Her eyes narrowed and her kiss swollen lips thinned into a hard line. “Don’t make me tell you that you owe me. Because I will. I’ll play that card. Unfair or not, I’ll say it.”
Trace groaned. His hands were still on her waist. Her warmth leached into him, turning him inside out. He should walk out that fucking door, but if he did, his life would just continue to be as empty and meaningless as always.
He’d tasted her and damn him, he wanted more. He’d always wanted more. He’d longed for her over the years. He’d never been able to banish her from his mind or excise her from his soul. She haunted him. She would always be the ghost of his past, present, and future.
She edged in, wriggling her shapely hips against him, grinding her heat straight onto his dick. She never broke eye contact as she tempted him to do every single sinful thing he’d imagined over the years. She said she’d fantasized about him. Fuck.
Her nipples were hard little peaks under the thin fabric of her dress. She clearly wasn’t wearing a bra.
She caught his gaze and she smiled coyly. Teasingly. She’d never been a tease. She’d been many things, but not that. The unexpected side of her sent him for one hell of a ride. “I’m not wearing panties either,” she said huskily. She ground up against him again and gasped as the hard bulge in his jeans hit her most sensitive spot.
Fuuuuuuck.
Sandra let out a high pitched scream when he grabbed her. He’d have plenty of time for regret later, but for now, he was going to give them both what they fucking craved. His fingers ground into the fleshy part of her ass as he guided her backwards. Her calves hit the couch and she fell back, tugging him down on top of her.
His hand frantically tore at her dress, pushing the never ending fabric up her shapely legs. Her skin was so smooth, like satin. Like fucking rose petals. He wasn’t gentle. He was incapable of being gentle. Sandra parted her thighs and edged up the couch at the same time. He took the opportunity and the way her hips lifted, to ruck her dress up around her waist.
He feasted his eyes on her. She was perfect. Fucking better than he remembered. Her pussy was glorious. Shaved, pink, fucking glistening for him.
“No panties,” he rasped. “You were telling the truth.”
“Of course. I’ve never been a liar.” She watched him watching her, and damn, that was sexy. It was far bolder than she’d been in the past. She’d always been a little bit shy, especially at first. It was broad daylight, the golden slants of the sun filtering through the slits in the blinds.
His cock strained so hard against his fly that the head probably bore an imprint of the zipper. He was harder than he’d ever been in his life. His balls ached like someone just wound up and punched him there. He trembled with the need to take her, but also to restrain himself. It would be so easy to shove his jeans down, pull out his dick and bury himself inside of her warm, tight heat. He wanted to fuck her senseless. Fuck her until she’d come ten fucking times and was begging him for mercy. He wanted to blow his load inside of her, to fill her up and make her undoubtedly his.
Fuck. She can never be mine.
Knowing it didn’t change the fact that he wanted to mark her. His inner caveman roared at him to bite the creamy skin on her thighs, lick her and suckle her until he’d left marks all over her. Fuck her until she couldn’t remember her damn name. Fuck her until he couldn’t remember his.
She shifted and opened her legs further. He sat there transfixed, struck dumb at the sight of her. And then… then she reached down and trailed her sweet tapered index finger over her sweetly perfect folds. She massaged herself, closed her eyes and sighed in pleasure. She skimmed over her clit when her finger was good and wet, and then because she wanted to kill him, she popped that finger into her mouth and sucked her own juices off of it.
Okay… so maybe she’d learned a thing or two over the years.
The thought of her learning them with someone else made him fucking crazy. He wanted to hunt the bastards down and put a bullet between their eyes. He wanted to hand them over to Tommy and let the guy work his magic. He wanted to…
“Stop. Thinking,” Sandra commanded. “You look so serious. Like it’s a damn funeral. Does my pussy really look that awful? I know I might be different. I’m- older. I’ve had a child… but god, you’re really making me worried.”
“No.” He shook his head firmly. “Fuck no. You’re beautiful. I’m… I’m almost scared to touch you. I’m scared at the beast that I’m going to become at that first taste of you.”
Her eyes glistened. “Maybe I want the beast. Maybe I want you to fuck me until I’m screaming.” Her lips parted as she studied him. Slowly, deliberately, she ran her tongue over her bottom lip before she sunk her pearly teeth into it. “I want you to destroy me. I want you to put me back together. I want you to give me this, something that I’ll remember for the rest of my life. I want it to be rough. I want it to hurt.”
“Fuck Sandy,” he cursed. He snapped, the beast roaring out of his skin. He dove between her legs and lost himself in her perfection.