I’d already partially been his when I’d left him behind, but now that he’d followed me? Now that he was here, and I was with him, and for the first time in two months, I didn’t feel like stealing the van and driving right back to him? Well, those last few ounces of my being that’d belonged to me were now well and totally his.
He had no clue what was in store for him.
“I’m with you,” I said into those crazy, beautiful eyes.
With his eyes on mine, he pulled out and pushed back in, doing it slowly, allowing me to feel every single inch of him there was to feel.
I groaned at the way he was building me up. Whether he was meaning to or not, I was so totally gone for him it wasn’t even funny. That included my body. He could do what he wanted to it, and I’d obey only because I couldn’t stop myself from doing his bidding.
If he wanted me to come? Well, there I went exploding.
“You’re tightening around me,” he murmured, twisting his hips from side to side. “You close, baby?”
You close, baby?
Those words, that tone of his voice. Rawr.
“I’m teetering on the edge,” I whimpered, unable to stop the shakiness of my voice. “I feel like I need…”
He didn’t let me finish.
In one smooth, perfectly executed move, he had me on my feet and turned around, bent over the toilet.
And before the whimper of emptiness could leave my throat, he was pushing his way back inside like he’d never been gone.
I saw stars. Literal and figurative stars.
It took me short seconds to get back to the breaking point, and this time, I dipped right over the side, no “something” needed.
He groaned when I started to come apart around him, my pussy clamping down tight on his cock.
The pulsing of my walls around him made him curse as if he was trying to hold off and couldn’t because of what my body was doing.
With a growl of defeat, he followed behind me, grabbing my hips and holding on tight as he fucked his way through the orgasm that’d overtaken him.
“Fuck, fuck, fuuuuckkk,” he murmured quietly under his breath.
I still heard him, and the smile that graced my lips could’ve been construed as ‘cat that ate the canary.’
When he was through, and we were both panting, he said, “Swear to Christ, this is all I’ve been thinking about for weeks and weeks.”
Excitement bubbled through me.
“Same,” I murmured when he pulled out, causing a whimper to leave my throat with his departure. “So much same.”
He chuckled, his hands smoothing over my ass for a few seconds before letting me go and offering me his hand.
I took it, even though I didn’t need it, and grinned.
“It would be very, very nice if we could figure out how to do this living near each other thing without needing to get a fix before we can have any meaningful conversations,” I told him. “I’ve been thinking about you nonstop for months, and then you show up, and the first thing I think about is jumping you with a dead body a few feet away.”
Speaking of dead bodies…
“Mary was my friend and shit, I just had sex with you and maybe I probably should’ve been thinking about other things besides you,” I admitted.
I wasn’t making any sense. I was rambling.
But my thoughts were going haywire, and I couldn’t quite figure out which direction my thoughts needed to go.
On the one hand, I wanted to talk to him about all the things we’d missed in the last two months—like how he’d come to the decision to leave his house, his job, and his sister.
But on the other hand, I also needed to do some figuring out about how the hell Mary had gotten into that trailer—I mean, it wasn’t like people carrying around dead bodies was the norm in a circus camp.
“There’s time to figure that all out tomorrow,” he explained. “This is a shock, and likely you’ve never really experienced this kind of thing before—other than your mother, and that was experienced through a child’s eyes—and you just need some time to process everything before you can figure out your next step.”
When he laid it out so logically like that, I had a hard time not thinking the same way.
“I guess you’re right,” I admitted.
He winked at me, then stepped back, causing my eyes to automatically go to his cock. His still very hard, very erect, very looking like it hadn’t just “gotten some” cock.
I licked my lips as I watched him pull the condom off his dick and tie it in a knot.
When he looked around for a place to throw it, I said, “The only place in here right now is the kitchen trash, and for some reason, I don’t think you’ll allow that to happen.”
He snorted and placed it on the counter, then yanked his pants back into place. Seconds later, he was reaching for my leotard and offering it to me.
I took it, despite it being the last thing I wanted to put on, and started to yank it up while he looked for his shirt.
I saw it partially in the kitchen, partially in the doorway to the bathroom, underneath his left foot.
“There,” I pointed as I started to shimmy my butt back into the tight confines of my leotard.
“Is there a reason you have to wear something so tight?” he asked me.
I grumbled under my breath before explaining.
“Though it’s tight and really awkward to wear when you go to the bathroom as much as I do, it’s safer in the long run,” I admitted as I pushed him aside to wash my hands in the trailer sink.
Then I cursed when it didn’t produce any water, and I already had copious amounts of soap on my hand.
“Shit,” I grumbled.
Chuckling, he walked away only to come back a few seconds later with a bottle of water he’d noticed and I hadn’t.
After pouring it over my hands until they were free of soap, he said, “How is it safer?”
“Loose clothing has the possibility of getting tangled up in the silks when I’m in precarious positions,” I explained as I dried my hands on my leotard. “When I’m twenty feet in the air, the very last thing I want to have to worry about is my clothing getting tangled up in the silk and causing me to get hung up way up there.” I sighed. “That’s one of the first things Mary taught me. Which I learned the hard way when I didn’t listen to her the first time I wasn’t feeling the leotard. I nearly plummeted thirty feet to the ground when I got stuck and then yanked too hard and lost my balance.”
“Mary sounded like she knew her shit,” he said.
“Mary taught me everything,” I admitted. “From when I was a young kid, she taught me how to do aerial silk, as well as other things that I tend not to gravitate toward, like my sisters. She didn’t give a shit if a young kid was all up in her business, so curious to learn. She just taught me and, eventually, helped me choreograph my own routines when she was too old to get up there and perform herself.”
“When did you start performing?” he asked as he shrugged on his t-shirt.
“When I was twelve or thirteen,” I answered. “Things started to get kind of weird there for a bit. Like, I could do the routine, but not many people would want to watch a young kid do the routine when they could instead see some beautiful woman doing it. When I took over, it was because I’d finally grown a set of boobs, and nobody could tell I was thirteen when I was really high up in the air.”