The climax dances through me—gentle, simple, so sweet. He presses his lips to mine, absorbing my exhale, then empties himself inside me.
When I awake next, it’s to find he’s on his side, staring at me. His hair is mussed, his jawline shadowed, and there are dark circles under his eyes and a look of fierce concentration on his face. He looks younger and contemplative, closer to the boy I once knew. I reach over and cup his cheek. For a second, he doesn’t move, then his shoulders move, and he turns his face into my palm and kisses it. The touch of his lips against my skin sends heat shooting through my blood.
"I was scared, you know. Scared that they’d laugh at me if I didn’t do as they asked."
He turns to me. "Who are you talking about?"
I lower my hand, then tuck it back under the covers. "The guys on the cricket team in school. They were a bunch of jocks and very influential. They were the cool crowd, and I wanted to fit in. I was already self-conscious about my body—"
"You’re perfect as you are."
I curve my lips. "Thank you. It means a lot to hear that from you. But I’ve always suffered from low self-esteem because of my figure. I was overweight in school."
"You weren’t."
I half-smile. “That’s very sweet of you, but you know I was—I still am—on the chubby side.”
He scowls. “Did you call me sweet?”
“Umm, yes?”
“Do I look like someone who has a sweet anything in my body?”
Maybe your dick? But no, I wouldn’t call that sweet; the taste is closer to salty. I bite the inside of my cheek and shake my head.
“Ex-fucking-sactly. So, believe it when I say that, while you have many faults, not even I could dispute the fact that your hourglass figure is absolutely breathtaking.”
I blink. Did he pay me a compliment? He paid me a compliment. What does that mean? Nothing. He probably doesn’t mean it. I clear my throat.
“Regardless, it doesn’t change the fact that, in my eyes, I was, uh, on the heavier side of the scale. I was very self-conscious about it, and I tried my best to fit in. I wanted to be accepted. Who doesn’t at that age? So, when the leader of the cricket team asked me to call you and ask you to come to the bell tower—"
“You agreed.”
I nod. “I knew it would hurt you. I had an inkling it would lead to something that I would regret, but I wasn’t able to refuse. I was worried I wouldn’t be accepted among my peers.”
“And I never was, because I was the scholarship kid,” he murmurs.
“You were more talented than them, and brighter and more hard-working. And you were popular among the girls, which made me very jealous. It’s one of the reasons I agreed. I thought if I helped discredit you, they’d stop hanging around you.”
He frowns. “So, you did it out of jealousy?”
“Not only, but it was a big motivator. I thought if the other girls didn’t look at you again, you wouldn’t have a choice but to notice me.”
“I always noticed you, Abby,” he says softly.
“But you never asked me out.”
“Because Knight was my best friend. I couldn’t date his sister. Besides, if I’d told him I was attracted to you, he’d have kicked my arse.”
“Instead, I got you kicked out of school.” I bite the inside of my cheek.
“And it changed my life.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Perhaps, it’s because of what happened to me that I’m so successful now. It made me realize how important it is to be wealthy. It lit a fire under me. After I started playing Club Cricket, I buckled down. I’d been given a second chance, and I wasn’t going to waste it. From that day onward, I was focused on my goals."
"To become the captain of the English cricket team?"
"And to make so much money I’d never have to depend on anyone else for as long as I live, and"—he lowers his hand—"to destroy you."
"And you have." I swallow.
"Have I, though?"
"You’ve spoiled me for anyone else. You know that, Cade. I’ll never be able to sleep with anyone else without comparing them to you."
He opens his mouth as if to say something, then shuts it.
"What?"
"I came inside you without protection."
"I’m on birth control to even out my periods."
“And I’m clean.” He searches my features. “This is the first time I’ve been with anyone without a condom.”
“Oh?” I swallow.
He nods slowly, “I’ve never gotten carried away with anyone else the way I have been with you.”
What does that mean?
Only when his eyes gleam do I realize I’ve said the words aloud. He peers into my eyes, “It means I’m going to fuck you again, without any barriers between us.”
22
Abby
That was three days ago.
With that proclamation, he threw off the sheet covering me and scanned the length of my body. His eyes flashed, and his gaze grew heated. Then, once more, he planked over me. "Remember what I said earlier?" he growled.
"Which part?" I swallowed.
"About not letting you walk without feeling my imprint inside you for days?"
I nodded.
"You’d better hold onto the headboard; I’m about to deliver on it."
He did deliver on that promise. He fucked me two more times, both in missionary style, which, in itself, was a surprise. Both times, he insisted I keep my eyes open. Both times, he held my gaze as he took me and made me come before he spilled inside me.
It was as if he were committing my every moan, every whimper, and every cry to memory. Like he was ensuring my features would be imprinted on his retinas, embedded in his brain. Like he was trying to imprint himself on every part of my body and carry the feel of me writhing under him in his mind for the future.
The intensity with which he made love to me—and this time, it was making love. Not fucking or shagging, but worshiping me with his body—should have alerted me that things had changed between us. And a part of me did recognize it. But I was so drunk on the sensations, so overwhelmed by how right it felt, so high on the emotions our lovemaking generated…
I pushed aside all qualms and simply allowed him to sweep me away with the aid of his beautiful cock. I enjoyed every thrust, every stab, every lunge of his cock inside me. I welcomed his release, the feel of his fingers massaging my breasts, squeezing my thighs, the big handfuls of my arse that he grabbed and held onto that last time he propelled me to orgasm. He slumped into me, and I wrapped myself around him, enjoying the weight of him pressing me into the mattress, and I fell asleep.
When I awoke, he was gone. Now, there’s only the barest scent of sex in the air, the crumpled sheets I haven’t washed since, and as promised, the lingering sensation of his big, hard cock embedded in my pussy. I feel that phantom shaft deep inside me every time I walk, every time I sit, every time I do anything. Feel the bite of his teeth on the curve of my shoulder—which I’ve had to cover with turtlenecks and scarves. Feel that greedy squeeze of his palms on my curves.