My cock pulsed, threatening to bust as I positioned myself behind her. I didn’t offer her sweet nothings or whispered promises. My ravenous grunt was the only warning.
I thrust into her too hard, too fast, and with pummeling punishment.
And the dark urges within me roared with conquering delight.
Clover whimpered with shock, surprise, and then…
Explosive pleasure.
She arched as she met my devastating thrusts with her own frantic desperation. Her pussy enveloped me in the purest of heat. Every inch. Every thrust.
Never thought she’d so urgently slam back against me.
Never imagined her cries would shift from timid hums and murmured encouragement to mirrored grunts and profanities.
She wanted it as badly as I did.
As hard as I did.
And why not?
Sex had always been selfish and wild, obscene and vulgar. From the slapping of my heavy balls against her thighs to the sweat beading on my forehead as I gripped her hair and bent her body to my will.
I was meant to bury my frustrations into this woman…
Because I was too goddamned afraid to look inside myself.
At least the truth was obvious, exposed by a remorseless, domineering fuck.
It wasn’t about the pleasure.
It wasn’t about her submission.
It wasn’t even about the act of mounting her for this breeding.
I was so goddamned in love with her that I would rather destroy all we had than let her imagine—even for a single moment—that I couldn’t be the man to provide her with her idyllic future.
So I embraced my wild, despicable urges and took what I needed from her offered slit.
It was good. And dirty. And taken.
I lost myself within my aching thrusts and the cadence of her shocked, gasping breaths.
And yet…
Even in the midst of that utter despair, of that undoing of everything I had tried to be for this woman, I still delivered to Clover exactly what she needed.
She tensed, rolled, and shivered in constant pleasure. Orgasm after orgasm ripped through her weakening body. She moaned as her arms shook, unable to stay upright against my raging thrusts without the aid of my unforgiving hands gripping her hips.
And she thanked me for it.
Came again and again despite my monstrous behavior.
Somehow Clover dissipated the pain and shame of my fucking and encouraged the bestial urges with the push of her ass against my hips.
Was it possible that I could be so deeply connected with this woman that even in the darkest, weakest moments of my life…she understood me?
I had no excuse to hide from her anymore, and yet I still disguised the truth behind punishing thrusts. I silenced any foolish words with guttural grunts of pleasure and unconscionable fantasies.
I was weak. Selfish.
Desperate for her.
Clover came once again then collapsed to the floor. That was fine. I took her prone, her belly and breasts dragging into the carpet as I plunged deeper into her wetness. Her trembling fueled me. Her soaked pussy enthralled me. Her complete submission undid me.
“Adrian…” Her gasped words ached with desire. “Please…”
What the hell did she want from me?
I had nothing left to give her.
Nothing else except my seed.
Nothing beyond my last fucking hope that it’d be all we needed.
My orgasm boiled within me, torturing me with tightening balls and pricking my brain with a pain so fantastic and intense that I welcomed the encroaching darkness threatening to take me with it.
The pleasure ripped through me, destroying everything in its path.
My pride. My compassion. My dreams.
It wasn’t warm or comforting, romantic or gentle.
I erupted inside my best friend, the love of my life, as my body shattered in unforgiving despair.
This was wrong.
And yet, I couldn’t stop.
I savored it. Enjoyed it. Delayed every jet of seed for as long as my body could withstand the pleasure.
It revealed too much of me and exposed more of the truth in twenty-five seconds than the last twenty-five years.
We’d plunged into chaos.
And maybe that’s where I belonged.
I emptied myself deep within her, crushing her under my body as I defiled her with ribbon after ribbon of searing hot seed in her womb.
Why did she beg to take even more?
I rolled away from her, cock still vulgarly leaking the last of my desire. Her body tumbled forward, and the sticky white mess on her darkened petals was the final temptation of a damned sinner.
A ferocious shame bled through me. I was enraged with myself. My desires. My fucking destruction.
Clover panted, staring at me from the floor. Her words promised softness, but I didn’t hear them. Didn’t want to listen to what she might’ve said.
Or confessed.
I hauled myself to my feet, unceremoniously stuffing my cock into my jeans. Felt like a damned fraud. Like I’d done something dirty, terrible, and unforgivable.
And maybe I had.
“I should go,” I said.
Clover sat up, disheveled, hair mussed and body slick with sweat and seed.
Was this how I treated my best friend?
“You don’t have to go…” Her voice was hoarse from moaning. “I don’t want you to go.”
Which made it all the worse. I didn’t want to go either.
But if I didn’t leave now, I’d never summon enough courage to do what needed to be done. And that would ruin us both.
“You’re right.” I winced as my forehead pounded with an agonizing headache. So much for the post-orgasmic bliss. “Gotta get home to sit in the dark, drown in my loneliness.”
Clover stared at me—beautiful and forbidden and everything I’d always wanted.
“No sense in both of us being alone,” she whispered.
“I’ll only make things worse.”
“Adrian…you’ve only ever made things better.”
I wasn’t a good enough man to earn that lovely smile—but she gave it to me anyway. Willingly. So warm and forgiving I might’ve fallen to my knees before her and surrendered to the agony of it all.
But I still had some strength. Some common sense. Big enough balls to do what was right.
I wanted to believe her. Maybe pretend that the last few months hadn’t happened. Beg her to forget all that we had done in a vain attempt to preserve what we still had.
But I loved her too much to ask of her the impossible. This would be my decision. My pain to bear.
“I’m leaving.” It was as much truth as I could admit. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?”
I retreated to the door and embraced the darkness outside. The shadows hid her tears. At least I had that solace.
“I’m sorry for everything I can never give you.”
20
Clover
The Ironfield Forge were in trouble.
Training camp was usually the time when the players rallied together. Instead, the team fell apart.
It didn’t take a loudmouth journalist on Sports Nation to confirm the franchise’s worst fears, but Ainsley Rupert worked his magic during the league recap. The blowhard ensured the Forge’s issues were documented, discussed, and analyzed in excruciating detail.
It took three days of on-ice fights, blown plays, and frustrating disorganization before the team abruptly closed the practices to the fans.