by Lolita Lane
I knew there was no man on this planet meant for me more than him. Kisses, making out, we were devouring each other, exploring each other. I had relearned all of the little changes his body had made over the years, and I was certain he was doing the same. He spoke, his warm breath rushing past my ear, tickling it, exciting me a little more with sensations and words. "You're so damn beautiful, Noelle. God, I don't want to lose you again. I'd give up everything for you."
His words were music to my ears, and his petting of my clit was a hell of a followup. He was teasing me, but the need inside of me was so intense, so strong, that foreplay wasn't what I wanted. It was odd that I would potentially turn down him doing as he usually did, but all the time without him made what I wanted clear. "Show me how much you want me, Bruce. Fuck me. Now."
"Cutting straight to it, huh?" He didn't protest, pulling my panties down my legs, and I lifted them to help him along, letting him toss them wherever. I too reached down and tugged at his underwear and he did right as I suggested and freed himself from them as well. Glancing down at him, I was reminded of how much I loved his cock. How much I relished sucking it, jerking it, pleasing it. How much I loved having it inside me.
Bruce was right on top of me, his rod igniting the fire inside me even more by rubbing against my clit. I hadn't touched any man besides him. I couldn't open myself up enough to allow anyone but him. That was six long years of celibacy, six long years where the only stimulation I faced was my fingers, and a toy here and there. All the while, I remembered Bruce. How much better he felt.
Absence, sometimes, makes the heart grow fonder. I realized that this was most definitely the case when it came to me and Bruce. I needed him so damn badly, and as he pushed himself all the way in, I felt needed, wanted, loved, feelings that had so often been foreign to me all this time.
The passion inside him was so clear, he was quickly setting a rhythm inside me, having a hand on top of my clit, rubbing me as he fucked me. My pleasure was his pleasure, he always told me. My moans as he did so were music to his ears. The intensity of what he was doing was quickly rising, my body getting what it yearned for after all this time. No matter how much I fantasized about Bruce, there was nothing like his bare, naked cock actually inside of me.
It flashed through my head that I was taking such a risk again, but only briefly. The surge of delight that rushed through me with every penetration overwrote that thought, telling me any risk was worth not stopping this train of lust. My legs were wrapping around him, urging him to fuck me deeper, my arms grabbing going around his neck.
Hearing him grunt and groan as my pussy latched onto his cock and drove him batty was music to my ears. I wanted to show him that my need for him was just as strong as his need for me.
A brief urging led us rolling over the bed, with me now on top of him. I immediately leaped into action, riding him, letting him massage my hips. Letting him grab my breasts, holding them firmly and letting his palms tickle me as they bounced with my fucking. It felt so damn good to have his erection slam into me, tease going too far. I knew there was such a thing as too far, but it truly felt like Bruce was the perfect size for me, so I could experience all of the pleasure and none of the pain.
I was shuddering, knowing that the rush of orgasm was now in my sights. Still, I kept up my effort, staying on top of him, trying to do my part. Grinding at him, bouncing on him, trying to resist the orgasm, knowing that the longer I held off, the greater it would be.
He was hoisting me up and slamming me back down on his cock, challenging me to keep myself together. Rubbing my nub still, out to make me cum. Make me quiver, and make me milk his cock dry. This blissful competition drove us both, and I was barely holding myself together on top of him, my hands pressed against his flat, firm abs.
Bruce apparently didn't think I was fucking him fast enough for his liking, taking over and rolling us again, putting himself back on top. He was swift to keep fucking me like a jackhammer, going deeper, harder, making the bliss rumble through me at an even more intense rate. He hooked his arms under my knees and folded me up, my legs damn near over my head. It was odd, but I loved it. I wanted more. I wanted everything. So much, so fast, I was right at the precipice and I welcomed going over that final cliff.
His eyes met mine as I sing out in ecstasy, watching me as he wracked me with pleasure. My eyes rolled back, my toes curled and that was the last thing before I just couldn't take anymore. The explosion inside me rippled through everything, making me toss and turn in ecstacy as orgasm pounded me again and again, washing over all of my being as I called out for my lover, my soulmate, my Bruce.
Down into my core, feeling my body yearn for him too. Grabbing his cock, urging him, milking him, telling him to give me everything. My body didn't care that it was a risk, that in my current situation that I wasn't ready for the potential consequences. It only knew one thing, and the ecstasy I was feeling was my reward for indulging it. Bruce groaned, and planted himself deeper inside of me, and then my instincts got exactly what they desired.
That powerful surge of cum rushing out of him, his balls pulsing and unloading into my vulnerable body. I regretted that this was only the second time in my life that I had known such incredible bliss. Feeling his release made the smile on my face even wider.
The pounding of orgasm, the pounding of arousal started to fade, and I slowly began to realize just exactly what I had done. The man who I never wanted to see again had filled me to the brim with his cum. I had fucked him again, and I was happy and smiling about it.
"God you're so beautiful after I make you orgasm," he said, still inside me. "The glow is so pronounced. I want to make you cum again and again Noelle. Don't run away from me. Never again."
He breathed deeply, before finally departing me and laying beside me on his king-sized bed. Appropriate, because as he pulled me closer, he made me feel like a queen.
"That was wonderful," I said to him, enjoying that I could lay my face on his smooth chest again after all these years. "Can't believe I did that again."
"Shit," he muttered. "I came in you, didn't I?"
I nodded. "It's fine. We were both caught up in the moment. It's forgivable."
"Are you still not on anything?"
"No. It's fine. Trust me. I liked it. Don't feel bad about anything we just did, Bruce."
"Maybe you should get on something. I want you back in my life, Noelle. I mean it. I missed you so damn much. You're the only woman for me, and I'm never letting you go again."
I'd laughed in the years since we split. I've smiled. Here and there, there were tiny moments of happiness, yes. This was different though. There was something so calming about being here with him. Like happiness on a whole new level. Contentment was a term that could be used, I supposed, but it felt like something so much more intense than that word implied.
Bruce was the only one to really inspire this feeling in me. Maybe this was what love actually was.
He pulled me closer, and I could hear him quietly snore. After everything that happened, I thought he had the right idea, and I slowly followed him into his dreams.
Chapter Nine
I had nightmares over the years. Of waking up and being alone. Loneliness is something really terrible. Having no one there to talk to, no one there to love you. No one to care for you. The only thing worse than being alone is being alone after having someone you thought would never do such a thing. The pain of their abandonment, their betrayal. It made you wish that you never even knew them to begin with. Every time I thought of trying to move on, let someone get close to me, I would remember that morning after I gave Bruce my virginity.
Of being in my empty house all by myself.
I woke up this morning not all different than I usually did. Alone, and covered by a giant pile of blankets and a stack of 3 pillows, one folded up onto itself.
Being naked was a change, since I usually did at least wear a nightie. Also, being in a house that wasn't immediately familiar was a
big difference from my usual routine.
It took a moment to realize that I was in Bruce's mansion. Alone. Without Bruce.
My heart immediately started to pound through my chest. He wouldn't have...
Any exhaustion I had quickly was tossed away, adrenaline rushing through me. I was alone again. The next night after having Bruce. I hated that my mind immediately made the worst of assumptions, but that's exactly where it went.
I tried to calm myself down. I was in his home. He had things to do. He was a busy man, and I tended to sleep heavily which is why it was so easy for him to get up without me.
Still, my feet were once again heavy as I walked around, listening for any sign of life in the place. There didn't seem to be any, really. I looked out the window. It was overlooking the backyard, and he wasn't there either. Tepidly, I stepped out of the room, and started to look for him, feeling as though this was just another rerun in my life.
Not in the pool. Not in his kitchen. Not in a bathroom, or a living room or a closet. Just me and my naked body all alone in his massive place. I breathed steadily. It was his place. He would come back. I set out to return to the bedroom, wondering what exactly I was meant to do. On the way, though, I saw something on the foyer table. The National Secret. A tabloid. I mostly ignored them, always considering them to be full of lies that any real journalist would hate themselves for publishing.
This particular brand of lies, though, was about Bruce.
'BRUCE FLYNN – SLEEPING HIS WAY TO THE TOP OF THE LEAGUE?'
It showed him walking hand and hand with some plastic looking blonde woman, who seemed she had more money than sense. She was about my age, but clearly already had a bunch of cosmetic surgeries already done in her pursuit of perfection. My head told me to ignore it. Sure, Bruce would pick up these things, try to get a hold of the rumors that were being tossed around about him.
There was enough intrigue in me that I picked it up and flipped to the article. It claimed that he was romantically involved with Sally Brunswick, daughter of the owner of the Norfolk Knights. It stated Bruce was looking to secure his importance to the team, and likely use his relationship to claim salary increases in the future, since the last thing Old Man Brunswick would want to do is make his daughter cry by letting his boytoy run off to another team.
I didn't buy it. On top of my normal skepticism of tabloids, Bruce's ambition was that he wanted to claim his riches legitimately. He wouldn't seek to get it by sleeping with some woman he didn't even like. I mean, she definitely didn't seem like his type.
Leaving the paper be, I finished my journey toward the bedroom. I figured I should get dressed, as tempting as being naked for him when he returned was. I was stopped again by a symphony of chimes. Phone notification sounds.
Obviously Bruce didn't take his whole collection of cell phones with him. Instead I glanced over at one of them that was sitting on his dresser. I froze, thinking to myself. Would it be wrong for me to look? Did I trust him that little?
The pain stung me, the doubt on Bruce returning to me. He did talk about a Sally the day before. Tabloids didn't usually make up stories whole cloth. There was usually a single event and they tended to blow them up out of proportion. It wasn't like they photoshopped him holding the woman's hands either.
Doubt was powerful enough in me to overpower by morality. I walked over, and picked up the phone, hit the button, and saw the text message.
"Waiting for you, Brucey-Wucey. Brunch. Eating these sausages, making me think of you. Letting you know, I've decided not to wear panties today. I also want your opinion on my new mini-skirt..."
The shivers returned to my spine. This wasn't a text message of a casual relationship. This was a message from a lover. Lovers who are very much active with one another. I unlocked the phone, seeing that it wasn't password protected, and dug through. His contact list was filled with names like Diane, Elizabeth, Jennifer, Nancy, and Colleen. Feminine names. Sure, there were a few names like Bill, Jeffrey, and Tyrone, but there were a whole lot of women.
Of course. Of course, he was an attractive, charming man. He was a superstar. He had to be having women throw themselves at him left, right, and center. Was I really foolish enough to believe that he spent the last six years not being intimate with anyone?
Was I foolish enough to believe that he spent four years with a girl who wouldn't put out? It all came rushing down at me, and the tears were forming in my eyes. Why was I so naive, so stupid? He was a straight up poon hound, not caring the least about the women he slept with, only his own gratification.
Me? I was there. I walked right up to his doorstep. He knew just how to push my buttons, get me to spread my legs, make him think he actually loved me. I walked right into his trap.
I didn't want to be there anymore. I should have never taken this assignment. I gathered my clothes and redressed myself, wearing a wrinkly mess of my outfit. I darted down the stairs. I had to get out of here now. Every second I was here was another second that I risked him coming back, another second where I would be reminded of my incredible folly.
Filthy. I felt filthy. Unprotected sex with a manslut. I graduated near the top of my class, I had straight As and Bs all throughout my school years, but never have I felt more stupid than I did right then and there. The shower that I so desperately desired though, would have to wait. Down the stairs, and to the front door, I bolted through, not caring that I couldn't lock the door behind me.
Not even five steps out the door, there was a series of flashes, the glare temporarily blinding me. I stumbled a bit, and as the brightness faded, I saw a man running away from me, camera in hand.
Paparazzi. Looking for the next part of their story on Bruce. I cringed, knowing I was going to show up one one of them, calling me a foul seductress who lured Bruce away from his goal of bedding the team owner's daughter.
If they could see his phone, they would see he probably already did that.
There was a part of me that wanted to back in and take one of those phones. Sell it to the highest bidder. Not give a damn about the damage I would potentially do to Bruce's reputation, live off the proceeds for the rest of my life.
No, that wasn't me. As thrilling as the allure of vengeance was, I just wanted to go back to pretending he never existed. Go back to being asexual. It wasn't a happy place, but the pain I felt there was nothing compared to the pain I felt then.
I climbed into my car and turned on the ignition. My last period was a week and some change ago. Why was I such a damn fool?
Chapter Ten
"Getting out when the getting is good, I see," Chuck stood in front of my desk, on top of which were boxes full of my personal affects and other random stuff.
"You told me that the Flynn story would get me noticed. Well it did." Me? I was sitting in my chair. I ached. Everything ached.
"You don't think you should wait another six months? Moving like you are has to be stressful."
I glared at him. "Chuck, if I don't get out of this state now, I'm going to blow my brains out. Moving on now is the best thing for me and my baby."
"I can tell, Noelle, but yeesh. Let me at least carry this stuff to your car for you."
He heaved the box up, and started heading toward the door. I called out as he left. "Thank you."
Six months. It'd been six months since I gave into lust and laid with Bruce, and now I was really feeling the effects.
Yes, I was pregnant. Yes, I was certain it was his.
No, I didn't tell him. I had no plans to. Again, there was a lot of potential profit in me doing so. The child support payments Bruce would owe me would really be quite massive.
The success of my story on Bruce did what Chuck said it would. I got attention from the higher ups. The US National Post, one of the biggest remaining papers in the country, wanted to hire me. They'd be paying me handsomely, and with the benefits package that was attached to it, I doubted I would be struggling all that much with my future child. I'd be able to give him
or her a fine life with plenty of opportunities.
Sure, it was rough going it alone. My hormones had been all over the place. I'd been horny, not wanting to be touched, then horny again all in the span of an hour. Not like what I wanted mattered, cause I was getting none of it. I'd be a single mother, and I still hadn't been inspired with the desire to hunt down a worthy man. Not like I'd be super attractive six months pregnant anyway.
My phone rang, vibrating. I placed my hand over it to keep it shaking over the edge of my desk to the floor. Glancing at it, it was Bruce's number. All over the past few months, he had been trying to call me. I don't even know how he managed to get my number, but I guess nothing is the limit when you have his kind of money.
Every time I accidentally picked up and heard his voice, I killed the call immediately. He was too dangerous to hear out. The Bruce I knew would have been overjoyed to help me take care of my child, but more and more, I realized that Bruce never really existed.
I pushed myself up, and prepared to head to my car. I was off to Philadelphia for my new job, and I was so glad to be getting far, far away from Norfolk, from Franklin, from Bruce, and from everything else.
Why?
Another flash blinded me. I blinked before pulling down the blinds of the window I had just passed.
The paparazzi had been relentless. Each day I passed a newsstand, and each day I saw the new stories on Bruce. It was odd seeing myself called a homewrecker, saying I was driving a wedge between Bruce and whoever this Sally person was. They were running with it hard.
What's more?