I reach around and grab hold of his ass, pressing my fingers hard into his flesh as I pull him closer to me. Burning with lust, I start to guide him into me, but Braxton grins and pulls back, letting the head of his cock just brush my pulsing lips. I slap his ass hard and arch an eyebrow at him.
“Naughty boy,” I say. “I want you inside of me. Now.”
He says nothing, but then, the mischievous smirk on his face says it all. He steps himself forward and parts my lips with the tip of his cock, which sets ripples of desire rolling through me – and then steps back once more. The need is raging within me, and I’m growing frustrated – which is obviously amusing him. I grab hold of his face, forcing him to look into my eyes as I slap his ass again.
“Fuck me, Braxton,” I growl. “Fuck me now.”
Braxton finally complies and steps forward, burying his thick shaft deep inside of me. I gasp as I feel a pinch of pain shooting through me. But it’s quickly overwhelmed by absolute pleasure.
I bite Braxton’s neck and dig my nails into his ass as he starts to roll his hips, pushing his cock into me. My breath is shallow and ragged, and I’m overcome by a sense of sheer bliss as he fucks me with a wild abandon.
Braxton reaches behind me and grabs hold of my ass, squeezing it hard as he pulls me closer to him. He’s pumping his cock into me, burying himself to the hilt before pulling out and slamming himself into my wetness even harder. His mouth is on my breasts as he fucks me, sucking and nipping my hard nipples. My entire body feels like a live wire of sensation, every thrust of his staff into me, bringing me to new heights.
As he lifts my hips up off the counter and drives himself deeper into my pussy, I throw my head back and cry out his name as my body shudders. I come hard, my skin feeling like it’s on fire. Braxton keeps fucking me. Keeps pounding his cock into my molten core. Keeps grasping and kissing me and digging his fingers into my flesh and thrusting himself ever deeper into me. I’m exploding. I’m out of control. I grip him tight and thrust my own hips in response, making my orgasm feel that much more intense.
A low grunt passes his lips as he drives himself into me again, and I feel his body tighten. I know he’s close, but I’m not ready for him to be done just yet. I put my hands on his chest and push him back. I can see the frustration in his eyes, so I reach down and grab hold of his cock, giving it a tight squeeze.
“Don’t worry. I’m not done with you yet,” I purr, echoing the words he said to me last night.
Slipping off the counter, I grab his hand and lead him over to the dining room. I pull out a chair and push him down into it. He smiles salaciously and reaches for me, but I slap his hands away, giving him a devilish grin. I walk over to the chair I’d draped my sweater on and grab my silk scarf, then return to Braxton. He shudders as I trail the end of the scarf over his exposed chest, and I can tell he’s getting impatient. Good. This will teach him to not tease me again.
Standing behind him, I pull his arms behind the chair and bind him with my scarf – although I know he could break the knot if he really tried. I give him a flirty smile.
“Be a good boy,” I tell him. “Don’t pull at the scarf.”
“And if I do?” He arches an eyebrow at me.
I run my fingers down my body, slipping them into my pussy and get them slick with my wetness. I smile as I slide them into his mouth, letting him taste me. He grins but sucks every last drop of my juices from my fingers.
“Then you don’t get this,” I reply.
He grins. “Are you sure you were a virgin until last night?”
I chew on my bottom lip and smile at him. “I may not have a lot of actual experience, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m into,” I purr. “And that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to get myself off.”
“And you clearly know how to get me off.”
“Indeed.”
I straddle his lap, still keeping my pussy just out of his cock’s reach. Our mouths crash together as I force my tongue against his. I swirl my tongue around in his mouth and grip his hair tightly, pulling his head back. I run the tip of my tongue from the base of his neck, up to his mouth, and around his lips. Lowering myself down, I let the head of his cock brush softly against my lips – I’m so sensitive right now that even that light movement sets off explosions of sensation within me so intense, it’s all I can do to keep myself from coming.
“Do you want me?” I whisper, then run the tip of my tongue around his ear.
He tries to thrust himself upward, but I give him a light, teasing slap on the cheek and smile imperiously down at him.
“Not until I say so,” I grin. “And I asked you a question.”
The lust for me is a bright, shining light in his eyes. He wants to fuck me so bad I can feel it radiating off him in waves like heat from a bonfire.
“Yes,” he gasps, his voice thick. “I want you. I want you so fucking bad.”
“Good boy,” I whisper in his ear again.
I lower myself down and slip the head of his shaft between my lips once more, slipping down an inch before holding myself there. I give him a wicked grin.
“Are you sure?” I ask.
He laughs. “Don’t make me tear your scarf in half to prove it.”
Biting my bottom lip hard, I try to control the wincing as I slide all the way down his cock, impaling myself upon him fully. He fills my pussy so completely it’s like he was made specifically for me. I have to take a moment to adjust to having him buried inside of me, so I kiss him again, our teeth clicking together as our mouths crash against each other.
Gripping his shoulders, I start to roll my hips. I begin rising and falling on his cock, sliding myself all the way up before plunging myself down again. Slowly at first, but then the pain fades, leaving nothing but pleasure rolling through my body. I pick up my pace, starting to fuck him with the same abandon he’d fucked me with on the counter.
I bounce up and down on his cock, throwing my head back and crying out. Braxton’s mouth finds my breasts, licking and sucking on my nipples as I fuck him. But I can see the strain in his face as he tries to keep himself from coming too soon. He gives my nipple a firm bite, and I squeal in surprise.
“My God, you’re so fucking tight,” he gasps. “I can’t control myself.”
“Good,” I tell him. “I don’t want you to.”
Harder and faster, I impale myself on his thick organ over and over. I dig my nails into his shoulders and bite the lobe of his ear as I feel the pressure building up inside of me. Braxton’s breath is growing ragged and frenzied as he comes closer to the brink himself. Tied up as he is, he has no power. No control. He can’t do anything to give him a respite from the pressure building up within him. Having this kind of power and control over him is a heady feeling and pushes me ever closer to my climax.
“I’m going to make you come for me,” I whisper into his ear. “And I’m going to make you come hard.”
My pussy quivering, I slam myself up and down on his thick staff, crying out as shockwaves of ecstasy shoot through me. Braxton’s face is red, and his teeth are gritted as he does what he can to hold himself back. I reach down and squeeze his balls as I ride him, relishing the feel of how tight and full they are. He’s not going to be able to hold out much longer.
Pressing myself down hard and sheathing him as deep inside of me as I can go, I squeeze him with my inner muscles. He cries out. I feel him pulse, and a moment later, he bursts, erupting inside of me. A low rumbling groan issues from him as his cock throbs, filling the condom with wet, warm blasts of his seed.
I lean my forward, pressing my forehead against his as my body shakes wildly, my orgasm crashing down over me like a powerful wave. As we come, we cling to each other, riding out the waves of pleasure that wash over us.
“My God, you are amazing,” he gasps.
I press my lips to his; kissing him gently as the last echoes of my climax fade out within me. My body is humming, and I feel absolutely alive – alive in way
s I’ve never felt before. Part of me thinks it’s because I finally allowed myself to have sex. But the other part of me thinks it’s because of Braxton. In fact, I know Braxton has a lot to do with it.
Which is going to make tomorrow even more difficult than I already know it’s going to be.
Chapter Eleven
Braxton
I watch as she bustles around my bedroom, picking up her clothes and quickly putting them back on. There’s an almost frantic look on her face, and her cheeks are flushed.
“Where is my other shoe?” she squeaks.
I grin and point to the corner behind the chair. She lets out a frustrated sigh and grabs the shoe from where it had come to rest during our frenzy last night. The sunlight is streaming in through the skylight above, casting her in a softly glowing halo, making her look even more ethereal than she usually does.
Her clothes collected; she drops everything on the edge of the bed and starts to wriggle into them. I know she’s leaving. I knew that last night. But as I watch her rushing around, getting ready to walk out that door, knowing I’m probably never going to see her again, I’m struck by a thought that hits me as hard as a freight train. I don’t want her to go. I want her to stay here. With me.
“Chloe,” I start.
She turns her head expectantly.
“Don’t go.”
She looks up at me and arches an eyebrow. “You’re not getting all sentimental on me, are you?”
I laugh. “Maybe I am.”
Sliding off the bed, I pull on a pair of boxers and walk over, pulling Chloe to me. She’s a bit stiff at first but eventually melts into me, wrapping her arms around my waist. I lean down and plant a gentle kiss on the top of her head, relishing the feeling of her body pressed to mine. I find that I don’t want to give her up. More than anything, I want this moment to last.
As I breathe in her scent, I feel my cock thicken, pressing against her belly. I clear my throat as she wriggles out of my grasp and gives me an awkward smile. I shrug and flash her a suggestive grin.
“I’m already running late,” she chides me.
“Well, why not run a little bit later?”
She laughs. “You’re impossible.”
“I can’t help it,” I explain. “You have this effect on me.”
I reach out to grab hold of her, but Chloe dodges me, giggling as she goes. “Seriously, you’re going to make me miss my flight.”
“So miss it,” I shrug. “I’ll buy you a ticket, on the next one.”
She laughs. “You’re a bad influence.”
“Or better yet, don’t go at all.”
She pauses, and I see a strange look flash through her eyes. Maybe I’m imagining it but I kind of think there’s something inside of her that’s considering it. Something inside of her that maybe doesn’t want to go back.
“You’re kidding me,” she finally answers, completely deadpan.
“Not at all,” I respond.
“Because I have responsibilities.”
Her tone is serious. I lean against the wall beside the door to the bathroom, folding my arms over my chest. I look at her. I know what I’m proposing is insane. I’m the kind of person who will usually think things through at least a thousand times and only after that act with an abundance of caution. Yeah, overthinking comes pretty naturally to me. It’s a trait I inherited from my father.
Which is why me letting my feelings take over enough that I asked her to stay with me all the more shocking. I mean, the truth of the matter is that even though we have a shared history – and have spent a couple of amazing days together now – we really don’t know each other. I can’t tell you what her favorite color is. What her favorite movie or song are. I can’t tell you what really lights her up inside or what drives her up a wall.
I don’t know anything practical about Chloe. Or at least, very little. But I want to find out. I’ve always wanted to find out. I’ve always wanted to know more about her. I’ve always wanted to know everything there was to know – from the biggest details to the smallest scrap of her personal minutiae.
“There’s always been something between us, Chloe,” I start. “You feel it too, don’t you?”
“Of course I do,” she says softly. “I really wish I could stay.”
“Then don’t you think we have a responsibility to explore that?”
She stops buttoning her dress and looks at me, a complex blend of emotions on her face. The room between us is silent; the air saturated with a tense and strained energy. I feel us slipping slowly and inexorably toward the precipice of an argument we’ve had countless times before over the years.
I don’t want this. I wanted our time together to be something we both enjoyed. Unfortunately for me – for both of us, perhaps – I want to extend our time together. Maybe I’m greedy, but I just want more time with Chloe. I don’t want her going back to London. I want her to stay here. With me. And I’m used to getting what I want.
But Chloe has always been different. I’ve never gotten what I want when it comes to her. She is more stubborn than anybody I’ve ever met and has a reserve of strength I don’t even think she realizes is inside of her that gives her a backbone of absolute steel. It comes out when you push her, and I’ve never seen her back down to anybody – except when it comes to her father. When it comes to her dad, Chloe will back down a hundred times out of a hundred. It’s one of the things about her I find most frustrating.
“We don’t all have the luxury of indulging in our whims, Braxton.”
“Whims?” I ask. “This is hardly a whim.”
“Fine. Call it whatever you’d like, but I have responsibilities. There are expectations of me.”
“Yeah, and I’m not a total stranger to being saddled with expectations,” I respond. “I have just as many expectations on me as you do.”
“It’s not the same, and you know it,” she hisses. “Your father gives you the freedom to just do you, Braxton. How long were you roaming around in Europe ‘finding yourself’ before grad school?”
There’s venom in her voice as if she carries a great weight of resentment around on her shoulders – but I’m not sure whether it’s resentment for how I was raised, or how she was. I push off the wall, grab a t-shirt from the bed, and throw it on with a grunt, feeling frustrated by her obstinance as well as stupid for having brought it up in the first place. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I’d known this was the answer I’d probably get.
“I see your daddy issues are still strong as ever,” I snap. As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I regret it.
She looks at me like I just slapped her. Chloe’s eyes are wide, and her mouth is a perfect ‘O’ as she stands there, hands on her hips. The look of hurt on her face sends a needle of embarrassment and regret through my heart. I suddenly feel like the world’s biggest shit-heel. I feel bad. This is not how I envisioned things going this morning. Not even close to it.
“How dare you,” she says, her voice tight. “You son of a bitch.”
“Chloe, I –”
“Shut up. Just shut up,” she roars. “I don’t want to hear another word from you.”
Chloe storms around the room, muttering angrily to herself as she wiggles into her skirt. As pissed off at me as she is, I still can’t take my eyes off her.
“Listen, that was uncalled for,” I admit. “I’m sorry.”
She says nothing as she slips her shoes on, and I know I don’t have much longer to plead my case before she bolts out the front door. And if I let her go like this, with her still stewing in her anger, the chances of me ever seeing her again slip from not very fucking likely to absolutely fucking none. At least if I can patch things up with her, we can maybe still see each other on the odd trip between here and there. It would be difficult – long distance relationships aren’t always easy. But it would be better than nothing.
“Chloe, will you stop for a minu –”
She rounds on me. “What, Braxton? What do you want?”
“You,” I tell her bluntly. “I want you. I always have.”
She pauses for a moment, and her face softens. And although her expression is dark with anger, her eyes are shimmering with tears she’s fighting like hell to keep from falling. But then she gives her head a small shake and comes back to herself. The softness that had filled her face a moment ago fades and is replaced by something harder.
“I’m not like you, Braxton,” she sneers. “I can’t just do whatever the hell I want to do. I don’t have the kind of freedom you do.”
Despite my best effort to keep myself in check, my anger boils over. I slam my fist into the wall, making Chloe jump. A wave of fear washes across her face, which only seems to deepen the anger when it returns. And then I do what I always seem to do, open my mouth and speak without stopping to think, thus making the situation ten times worse.
“Dammit, Chloe, you don’t have to do everything he tells you to do. You’re not a little girl anymore. You’re a grown fucking woman,” I growl. “When are you going to start acting like it and start making some goddamn decisions for yourself for a change?”
She finishes slipping into her shoes, not even bothering to look at me. Without a word, she starts for the bedroom door, so I step into her path. Her eyes narrow, and her jaw clenches.
“Get out of my way, Braxton.”
“Not until you talk this out with me.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” she hisses. “You’re an asshole, and I should have known better than to –”
Chloe bites off her words, and she looks away, refusing to give voice to the rest of her thought. In that moment, I so badly want to reach out and pull her to me, but I know it wouldn’t be well received. In that moment, she looks like she wants to be as far away from me as she can.
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