It’s here, right here, beneath Hollis, caged between his arms, his hips slamming against mine, sending me into eternity.
We’re hungry and we’re rabid, and the lapsed years between who we were and who we’ve become mean nothing at all.
Nothing.
We’re Hollis and Becca again. Becca and Hollis. And together, we are Heaven.
“How long, Becca?” he asks, pushing into me.
I raise my knees and wrap my legs around his waist. Squeeze. I can barely think much less talk. But he wants to know. Wants to know everything.
He thrusts harder, and I press my face into the crook of his neck to avoid answering.
“How long have you been watching me?” His voice is rough, demanding, and it pulls from me things I should be too embarrassed to admit.
I fling my head back, turn my cheek so I don’t have to look at him when I murmur, “Too long.”
His tongue traces my jawline, slides up over the shell of my ear. “And you liked what you saw, didn’t you?”
“Obviously,” I sass back, and am immediately punished for my snark. Hollis slams into me deeper than before, harder than before, bottoming out inside of me and driving himself into my most sensitive spot. But pain is pleasure and pleasure is pain, and I meet his smirk with one of my own. Bringing my hands up, I lay them flat against the headboard and push, grinding back against him even harder.
His mouth drops open, and his eyes flutter closed as he huffs, “Jesus Christ,” in one tense, strangled breath.
I roll my hips and squeeze my thighs, and ask, “Does she fuck you this good, Hollis? Huh? Does your wife feel as good as I do?”
He’s overtaken by his senses now, by the blood rushing to his most intimate area. His eyes are still shut and the cords in his neck are taught with restraint.
“No,” he grunts. “Fuck no.”
“And did you think of me when you fucked her? When you were inside of her, did you ever pretend it was me?”
“All the time,” he rasps. “All the…oh, God…”
Hollis gasps, shudders, strains above me while pouring into me.
And I clutch him harder, grip him tighter, ride out his orgasm with him, drawing out this moment for as long as I can.
When he finally collapses on me, drained and spent, I don’t even mind that I haven’t come yet. Because this is Hollis, and with him, just playing can be enough.
But Hollis minds. Hollis cares.
He slides off and presses his palm against my stomach. “Your turn.”
Somehow, I know he’s not referring to sex.
Hollis wants my sins.
“What about you, Becca?” He slides a finger into me, hooking it just right. “Do you think about me when your husband’s fucking you?”
I writhe beneath him, whimper. His voice, his words are setting my body on fire. “Yes. God, yes.”
He bends down to suck at my neck, and his next question vibrates against my skin. “Did you befriend my wife for me? Try to sabotage my marriage so you could have me all to yourself?”
I gasp as he slides in another finger. “Y-yes.”
Lifting his head, he reaches up with his free hand, running his finger along my lips before sticking it inside my mouth. His eyes darken when I swirl my tongue over his digit, sucking him in. “Fuck, I’ve missed your mouth, baby.”
I grin around his finger. When I buck my hips to meet the hand he has between my legs, he closes his eyes and swallows. “I want to know everything,” he says, and his voice grates like sandpaper. “Fucking everything.” Pulling his finger from my mouth, he drops his hand to my neck. “I want to know what you did for me. I want to know your devotion.”
Oh, Jesus.
I can feel my pulse pressing into his palm, and when I don’t answer, he applies the tiniest bit of pressure. “Tell me, Becca. What did you do for me?”
There’s no way I can tell him. No fucking—
“I lied to my husband.” It pops out of my mouth before I can stop it, and when Hollis growls in satisfaction, I know exactly why it did.
Power.
I never had it over him.
I was never able to say no, never able to put my foot down or reel him in when his ideas were to grandiose for our circumstances. Instead, I swallowed my doubt, my concern and questions and worries. I swallowed them until they swallowed me.
And that, more than anything, is why I left.
He slips another finger in, and I’m full, so full, that I can barely take it anymore.
The Devil’s in his features now, and he looms over me, his breath mingling with mine. And as I always am with him…I’m powerless.
“What did you lie about?”
His voice is a whisper, but it beats against my ears like a drum.
He twists his fingers, and I can’t hold back. “I told him I was here on business. But I…I really came to see you.”
His laugh is dark and wicked; he’s enjoying this. Having me under his thumb after what I did to him. Breaking my secrets from me one by one.
“You disguised yourself so I wouldn’t recognize you, didn’t you?”
I press my lips together, and then, with my next breath, hiss, “Yes.”
“What else? Tell me.”
I shake my head, because no, no, I won’t tell him anything about the… “Panda,” I gasp. “I stole your daughter’s stuffed panda.”
I’m a goddamn blubbering fool, and surely this is a confession that won’t go over well. Stealing a kid’s most prized possession is just…fucked up.
Hollis’s eyes widen in shock, and for a moment, his hand stalls entirely.
I watch a muscle in his jaw tick, and cringe. “I’m sorr—”
“Why?” His voice is cold, hard, and it makes my already rapid heart rate quicken in fear. Fear of losing this, him, because of some stupid impulse I couldn’t control.
“Because it was there, and I wanted it.” A pathetic answer, really. But it’s the truth, so I stick with it.
Hollis’s face is stone, a hardened mask I can’t read. But then, slowly, a smile softens his features, and he laughs that laugh I love so much. “You little shit,” he whispers. “You little fucking shit.”
And then, still laughing, he crushes his lips to mine.
“That’s the Becca I know,” he says after he pulls away. “My little muse.” He starts moving his hand again, slow and deep. I’m coming apart around his fingers, unraveling entirely. My body is all liquid heat and exploding sensation.
And…I can’t take it anymore.
“Please,” I beg, just as I used to beg him all those years ago. “Hollis, please.”
He brushes his mouth over my cheek, the tip of my nose. “Almost, baby. Almost. Just a few more things, okay?”
I’m beyond the point of responding, and he doesn’t need my permission to continue.
Like I said before – powerless.
“My wife mentioned something about a boyfriend?”
My hips still, my entire body stills.
“Where does he fit in to this?”
Ford.
Hollis senses the change and presses into me deeper, harder, and though I grimace from the intrusion, the only pain I feel is…shame.
Shame.
I’ve been unfaithful all summer, sleeping with Ford while married to Nicholas. Yet, for the first time, the very first time, I feel like a cheater.