‘You want this?’ he demanded, his voice a growl of desire.
‘Just as much as you do,’ I murmured back. There was a hot, raging need inside me, something I’d been subduing for years, but it was out now, free and determined to get what it wanted.
I felt him slide his hands under my buttocks and lift me up. Instinctively I wrapped my legs around his waist, exhaling with satisfaction as his hard cock pressed between the folds of my pussy. He began to rock his hips, rubbing himself against the sensitive nub of my clit, and my whole world narrowed to that one sweet, lascivious sensation.
We were both panting hard now, our breath rushing in and out of our lungs from both the physical exertion and the intense need to fuck.
As much as I wanted to get back on top of this situation, I was aware I was losing the battle. My mind was hazy and overrun with an overwhelming desire to finish what we’d started, so it felt completely right when I felt the head of his cock pressing against the entrance to my vagina, then firmly and insistently pushing inside me.
I sucked in a breath as he slid deeper, my body stretching to take the impressive girth of him. He didn’t pause there but immediately began pounding into me, his powerful hips thrusting against my body as he took himself deeper.
And I loved it. Needed it. Needed more of it.
I began to rock my body in unison with his, taking his hard thrusts and urging him on for more of them.
I was wild. Abandoned. Not the controlled, tactically driven woman I usually was when having sex. I was suddenly a person I only vaguely remembered being all those years ago. A woman who had let herself enjoy fucking for the sake of it. Who had been capable of feeling love and affection.
Then suddenly, shockingly, he stilled. His cock was still buried deep inside me, but he was holding the rest of his body rigid, not moving a single muscle. I nearly screamed in frustration, wriggling my hips and trying to get him to start moving again.
But he didn’t.
Instead he leant back and cupped my chin in his hand, turning my head so I was forced to look straight into his narrowed eyes.
‘This is why you really came in here tonight, isn’t it?’ he murmured. ‘You can’t keep away from me. Wherever I go these days, there you are, hanging around at the edge of my vision like a mournful ghost,’ he teased, the words loaded with triumph as he began gently to rock back and forth again, the pressure of his pelvis against my clit sending echoes of pleasure through me. ‘I knew it. I knew you still wanted me. You’ve wanted me back for all these years but you’ve been too much of a coward to admit it.’
And that was the moment that reality and sense rushed in.
His jubilation killed dead the eroticism of the moment and in my anger and intense frustration I put my hands against his chest and pushed him hard away from me. I felt his cock slide out of me as he was forced to take a step back and I dropped my feet to the floor.
My whole body gave a throb of regret at the loss of intimate contact with his and an agonisingly familiar grief began to build inside me. But I knew I had to quash it quickly before my emotions got the better of me. Before he saw the pain and sadness I’d been hiding from him for all these years.
‘Don’t kid yourself,’ I said with all the disdain I could muster, pushing down the skirt of my dress. ‘This wasn’t about wanting you. It’s just a hate fuck. Something we’ve been dancing around for years. Which frankly has become very boring. It just felt like a good opportunity to get it over with and get each other out of our systems for good.’
He stared at me with his eyebrows pinched together, seemingly amused by my statement. ‘You’re really going to give up the best orgasm of your life to maintain your overblown pride?’
My laugh was scornful. ‘I wasn’t even close to coming then. You could never make me orgasm.’
He snorted in disbelief. ‘I seem to remember doing just that, quite a few times, in fact, back when you used to behave like a human being instead of a business-driven robot.’
I wagged my finger at him. ‘Newsflash. You didn’t make me come then, either. I faked it every time because I felt sorry for you and didn’t want to damage your fragile ego.’
This wasn’t entirely true. While I’d had trouble at first relaxing enough to orgasm, and had pretended I had out of shame at not being able to do it, I’d definitely come regularly once we were past the awkward new-relationship stage and we’d got to know each other’s bodies a whole lot better.
‘You’re a fucking liar,’ he said, pulling his trousers closed and buckling his belt.
‘Am I?’ I gave him my haughtiest look, one that reputedly could freeze people to the spot. ‘Honestly, you meant nothing to me then and you mean nothing to me now. You’re just a minor nuisance with a big mouth and an obvious lack of self-esteem. Perhaps it’s time you took a long, hard look at yourself.’ I straightened my shoulders, fighting back a wave of shame when I was certain I saw hurt flash across his face this time.
My gut clenched. What was wrong with me? The man had just lost his father and I was laying into him in the most vicious and hurtful way.
But he didn’t give me an opportunity to backtrack. He just looked me up and down with his jaw set, taking in my dishevelled state with a cool gaze, then turned, grabbed his jacket off the chair and threw it towards me.
I was too slow to catch it, so it just slithered down my body and landed in a heap at my feet.
‘You’re going to need that more than me. We wouldn’t want you getting any colder,’ he said before turning and walking away, slamming the door shut behind him.
* * *
I kept his jacket for far longer than I should have done.
It just sat there, on the back of the armchair in my bedroom, taunting me for the next few days.
I’m ashamed to say I ignored my better judgement at one point and picked it up and held it to my nose to remind me of the scent of him. I’m not sure why. Something deep and dark inside me compelled me to do it. An instinct to punish myself, perhaps. A form of self-flagellation.
It was wrong to have had sex with him. So wrong. Foolish and weak. And the shame of it infected me like a virus, waking me up night after night in a hot, feverish state.
Eventually, five nights after it happened, when I was still having trouble sleeping, I got up and angrily shoved the jacket into a carrier bag to be sent to the dry cleaners the next day.
It was funny, but as soon as it was out of the house I immediately felt better. As if I’d exorcised a malevolent spirit.
But of course I knew deep down that wouldn’t be the end of it.
Life didn’t work like that.
And, of course, I was right.
Copyright © 2019 by Christy McKellen
ISBN-13: 9781488048739
Hot Mistake
Copyright © 2019 by Cara Lockwood
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