by Hope Conrad
My erection springs to life and smacks against her. She lets out a light whimper and it drives me absolutely fucking insane. I pull backwards into an almost standing position in the cramped front seat.
I grab my cock at the base and line it up with the opening of her pussy, but I have no intention of driving in. At least not yet. I want to tease her. I want her to be the one that makes the final call. I want to hear her beg for me to fill her. Only then will I fuck her until she sees stars. Only then will I fuck her until she has no other choice but to call herself mine. I know it’s what she wants.
I just need her to fucking say it.
“Tell me you want me,” I demand and push the head of my cock against her opening, threatening to stretch her wide, but never fulfilling the promise. “Tell me you want this.”
“Just shut up and—”
“No,” I cut her off and tap my cock against her. It’s leaking with precum now. Goddamn, the things she has the power to do to me. The sound of her voice drives me insane when she’s under the weight of my body. It’s so much better than I ever imagined, and I don’t want this to be over before it even began. I’ve spent too long thinking about her and about this. “Tell me you want me to fuck you, Katie.”
She cranes her head to face me, and her eyes dance with innocence.
But I know better.
She nods her head, and her non-vocalized answer is enough for me to finally crack. I hunch over her body and trace my finger along her lip, distracting her just long enough so that when I begin to glide into her wet cunt, she lets out a drawn out moan and muffles her face against the seat.
I pride myself on being strong, but with every inch deeper, I lose myself to a stirring sensation. It’s almost too much for me to handle.
“Fuck,” I groan as I sink into her, all the way to the hilt until my swollen balls are leveled against her tight pussy. I reach for her hands and lock them with mine so that I have complete control over her as I begin to thrust in and out.
This isn’t the time to be slow and I couldn’t control myself if I tried. I fuck her hard and fast. With every whimper, every groan, ever muffled cry against the seat, I fuck her harder.
Her pussy pulsates around my cock. There’s so much blood pumping through me and I’m so hard I feel like I’m going to explode.
I’m great in bed, but this isn’t a bed. I’m capable of making the most prudish of women scream, but Katie isn’t any typical girl. She’s goddamn perfection, and I’ve been saving my nut for her for years.
Because of this, I know I don’t have long, but I also know if I have any chance of satisfying her, I need to find a way to quell the explosion rapidly building within me.
I shift backward slightly, but I don’t pull out of her swollen core. Instead, I palm her hips, arranging her until she’s on a version of all fours, and I dig my fingers into her flesh as I pull her backward and onto me.
I think for the briefest of moments that somebody could see us, but remember the fogged up windows. It’s not like I would care anyway. She’s all that matters.
I fucking own her.
I thrust slow and steady and hard to drive us both higher. She needs to know that I’m in control at all times, at least in this, where her pleasure is concerned.
Her hair is thrown through the moist air with every bounce of her flesh against my flesh. She moans. She groans. And just like that she comes, contracting against me like a vice.
She screams, and she’s lost in ecstasy. I pump shallowly, trying to ride her through her release, trying to make it last, but I’m done.
I’m a rocket with a rapidly approaching expiration.
I dig my fingers deeper into her hips until I’m sure there are going to be bruises, and it’s all I can do to keep myself from coming in her tight cunt.
But of course I can’t. Because I’m not wearing a fucking condom. Quickly, still pumping furiously, I let go of her hips and shove her shirt up her back, exposing her smooth, bare flesh. I can’t come in her, but I need to mark her.
“Fuck,” I yell. I can’t hold back any longer. I pull out just in time to send my seed shooting across the swell of her back. I come in rapid bursts, and my breaths take on a whimpering sound with each one.
Finally, I’m empty, and I lower my head to her shoulder.
She lurches forward, collapsing so I fall onto her, our sweat-drenched bodies melting together. I feel my own cum seeping through my shirt. My breathing is erratic and rough as I come down from an impossible high—a high I never thought I’d get to experience.
Katie’s been my fantasy, and I can’t believe I actually just fucked her in the front seat of her car, where anyone could see us. We went at each other in the most basic way, with little foreplay. I didn’t get to see her tits, or suck her nipples, or taste her pussy. Still, I want to enjoy the aftermath. Only my brain’s already working overtime, and all I can focus on is how rough I’d been. And I’m afraid I’ve screwed this up, just like I’ve screwed everything else up in my life.
* * *
The rain has stopped. It’s been about two minutes since I fucked Katie into submission, and about a minute and a half since she pushed down her shirt and pulled her jeans back on. I’m back in the passenger seat and she’s facing forward, looking out the still-fogged windshield. Her breathing is still erratic, with the occasional gasp for air.
I’m back into my jeans as well, and it’s almost as if nothing has happened. I know what a good man would do—he would invite the girl he just screwed into his house, even if it’s a run-down apartment like mine. I’d love to invite her in, but I don’t want her to see the squalor in which I’m living, or take the chance that Trevor is waiting for me.
I’m ashamed. Ashamed that I fucked her and spilled my seed on her, this beautiful woman. She deserves so much better than me.
“You were right,” she sighs and twists her head not to look at me, but somehow past me, even in this narrow space.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Part of me talked George into hiring you because I wanted this.” Her tongue runs a lap around her bottom lip. “The thing is, I—”
I don’t know why I interrupt her right when it seems she’s going to reveal something important. All I know is not more than three minutes have passed since I fucked her, and I still want her. I think if I get inside her again, there’s no way I’m ever going to be able to let her go. And I’m suddenly afraid of this hold she has on me.
All this time, I’ve told myself she’s mine.
But what I hadn’t truly understood is that I’m hers, and that she has the power to undo me with a flick of her little finger.
“I should go,” I say softly, and reach for the door handle.
She’s visibly taken aback, a look of confusion passing over her face like a shadow.
“What?” she questions in the form of a held-back cry.
“I just need to get inside… I have things to do.”
She’s staring at me slack-jawed, but in seconds my feet hit the wet pavement. I rest my hand on the roof of the car and bend down to say five simple, short words. “I had a good time,” then quickly shut the door before making my way to the front door of my apartment building.
I’ve wanted her.
I’ve had her.
And I’ll never be able to settle for just once.
More.
I need more of her.
I’ll always need her.
But right now, what I need most is silence to figure out what I’ve done, and how to get back on track. How to get my bearings again, so I can give and take from Katie all she’ll allow me to while at the same time protecting myself so that when it’s over—and of course it’ll end with us sooner or later, because of who she is but more importantly because of who I am—I manage to walk away with something resembling a heartbeat.
Only the further I get from Katie, the more a sinking feeling dives into the pit of my gut.
I fucked this one up. I obviously confu
sed and hurt her by walking away.
But was there ever any other way it could turn out? I mean, she has a fucking kid for crying out loud. It’s not like we could ever settle down and play house. For a while, I forgot that.
But I can’t forget again.
Chapter Ten
Katie
What is wrong with me?
It’s a question that haunts me as I drive myself home after having sex with Street.
No, after letting Street fuck me in the front seat of my car without protection.
I can still feel the tightness on my back where his sperm dried on me.
Part of me has no regrets. He felt amazing inside me, and for the first time in my life I came just riding a man’s dick. It was the perfect distraction from the exhaustion my world has succumbed to.
But still, I know better. I really do. I want to believe Street is good and kind—it’s what I’ve always believed in spite of everything that tells me otherwise. However, he ran away after he finally got a piece of me, and it makes me question everything I’ve ever thought of him.
Am I that repulsive? Or is he just that big of a piece of shit?
Is he really just like every other man I’ve ever known?
I pull into my driveway and turn off the headlights. From inside the trailer, I can see the living room and kitchen lights are on. As soon as I step out of the car and onto a mixture of wet gravel and mud, I hear Riley inside screaming bloody murder.
I race up the steps and throw open the door to see Dee on the couch cradling Riley in her arms, trying to calm her down to no avail.
“Is she sick again?” I ask and reach for my little girl, picking her up into my arms. She grows quiet in an instant, with the cutest little murmur and a glimmer in her eyes.
My heart melts in an instant.
She’s capable of easing my mind like no other. My own little perfect creation of an angel—the one person in this world who loves me without question and without reservation. There are no judgments with her. Because of her, I mean something to someone in this world, and she’s my greatest accomplishment. Everything I do, I should be doing for her. I should eat, breathe and sleep for her.
I shouldn’t be wasting my time on sex or a man, especially one as fucked up as Street.
“Look at that,” Dee says through a glowing smile. “She just missed her mommy.” She rises to stand beside me, and pushes Riley’s short hair back and rubs her tiny head. “She’s been screaming for an hour. I’ve tried everything.”
“Sometimes she just needs her mother, you know?” I say. Guilt is a heavy weight on my shoulders and tears fill my eyes, but I quickly blink them away, averting my head so Dee can’t see.
“Speaking of mothers, girl, you look frazzled as hell,” she says with a laugh. “What the hell have you gotten into?”
“I need to put her to bed,” I say softly, not ready to confess my sins. I carry Riley into the bedroom and lay her down in the bassinet. She reaches her tiny hands up to me, and she coos. My heart seems to both harden and soften at the same time.
I’m tired as hell, confused as hell, but it all goes away when I’m with her.
Her eyes are heavy. She wants to sleep, and she needs to sleep, so I give her a little push with a short song. As the melody passes my lips, her eyes begin to close until she’s nestled within the world of dreams. When I’m sure she’s out for the night, I lean down and give her the softest kiss on her forehead.
“Love you, baby girl,” I say. “I’m going to be smart. I can’t change what I’ve done, but I can do better. I will do better. I promise.” I flip the light switch off as I exit the bedroom and head into the living room.
“You’re a little late,” Dee scolds me with an accusing tone, a much different tone than the one she had greeted me with. She’s very careful of her tone around Riley, as if she’s capable of understanding words. “Care to explain why?”
“I’d rather not,” I sigh and plop down on the couch beside her.
“Nope.” She shakes her head. “I have a busy life, and I think I deserve an explanation.”
“If you’re so busy, then why are you still here?” As soon as the words slip out of my mouth, I’m instantly apologetic. Dee does so much for me without asking anything in return. “I’m sorry. I’m just a little annoyed right now.”
“Spill the details.”
I throw my head back against the couch and let out a loud groan. The last thing I want is to talk about Street. There’s no way Dee will understand, and there’s no reason I should expect her to.
“See that right there,” she says as she points to me. “That right there tells me that you need to tell me everything that happened so I can scold you and make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“Let’s just say we’re both terrible when it comes to men, and leave it at that.”
“No way because that’s only stating the obvious. Now, I know what just-fucked hair looks like, and you’re guilty as hell, so tell me who’s the unlucky guy?”
“Fine. His name is Street—”
“That’s not a name. That’s a nickname you’d earn in the slammer.”
I turn to her with wide eyes, a dead giveaway that she’s on the right track.
She inhales a sharp breath. “Tell me you didn’t just screw an ex-con.”
I shrug. “I can’t. Even worse, we did it in my car,” I groan, and my cheeks flush red with embarrassment.
She drops down next to me and puts a hand on my shoulder even as her expression twists into anger. It will always be that way between us, Dee lending her support even as she chews me out for my stupidity. “What the hell is wrong with you? You should know better. I mean, how long did you work in that damn prison?”
“You want to know the worst part?” I question, and can tell by the inquisitive look plastered across her face that she wants to know all the details. “He didn’t even invite me into his apartment,” I say with a light, uncomfortable chuckle. “Is that asking too much?”
“You banged some guy in your car,” she points out. “What did you expect?”
I don’t have a proper answer. She’s absolutely right.
“This is what you do, Katie,” she continues. “You hook up with losers, and you always have this expectation that they’re going to stick around.”
“Sometimes they do.”
“Do what? Stick around?” She chews into her lip and shakes her head. “Look at the last man that stuck around. He’s a complete piece of shit.”
“You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know.” I’m tired and don’t wish to discuss this any longer, especially with Dee. I just want to sleep and forget for a while. “Besides, you don’t have to worry about Street. He got what he wanted, and he’ll move on from it.” I look at her with a forced smile, hoping it’s enough to convince both of us. “And so will I.”
Chapter Eleven
Street
I’ve turned into a fifties housewife as I vacuum the floor, but instead of silence or a soap opera on the television blaring in the background, an urban radio station blares modern rap. Before I went to prison, I wasn’t much into rap music. After prison is an entirely different story.
It clears my head, and somehow soothes me. And since I’m the absolute worst person in the world when it comes to tidying a home, I need the distraction. I push the vacuum back and forth, and with every stroke of my wrist, I try to ensure the lines left behind on the dingy carpet align with each other. I’m nowhere close to OCD when it comes to cleaning house, but there’s something about uneven vacuum lines that drives me up a wall.
There’s a loud knocking on the door and I jump in place, switch off the vacuum and turn the volume knob on the radio down before approaching the door. I level my eye with the peephole to see who’s knocking, and it’s the person I was expecting.
My parole officer.
I look around the room once more, trying to gauge if there’s anything I need to hide or clean up, but I don’t
spot anything, so I push the deadbolt out of the way and swing open the door.
“Hey,” I say, shoving one hand into my jeans and holding the door open with the other. “How are you?”
“I’m fine,” he says deadpan and shifts past me onto my freshly cleaned carpet.
I swing the door shut behind me.
“Nice place,” he says, and I immediately think he’s being a jackass. Nobody would think this place is nice. It’s not the worst, but it’s in simple terms a dump.
“How have you been, Thomas?” he questions as he turns to face me. He’s an older dude, fifty something and with a full head of hair. Slim and non-threatening, but anybody who isn’t behind prison bars doesn’t appear as much of a threat to me. Not anymore.
His name is Edgar Rose, which is a ridiculous name and I refuse to refer to him as Mr. Rose, or even Edgar, which he’d invited me to call him when we’d first met. To me, he’s simply Bastard, which I know is unfair. He’s only doing his job. He does what he has to do to feed his family, and that means he has to watch after menaces to society such as myself. Still, to me, he’s simply Bastard.
A bastard I wish I didn’t have to clean for. I mean, I don’t have to clean when he comes around, but I figure there’s an unconscious judging of sorts. The cleaner my place is, the more likely he is to believe I’m a clean man, living my life on the straight and narrow.
I’m sure trying.
And for the most part, aside from this sexual game of deviancy I’ve found myself engulfed in when it comes to Katie, I’m succeeding. What we did together in her car wasn’t illegal. What I want from her every second of the day—her body, her time, inside her head—isn’t either. What it is is an obsession. An obsession that sometimes seems as if it’s on the verge of spinning out of control, but it’s also an obsession that keeps me grounded if for no other reason than I’d never see her again if I manage to get my ass thrown back in prison.