by Karina Halle
I don’t want to come though. I lift my head, trying to speak. My throat is so dry, my thoughts scrambled. Everything is being redirected to primal instinct, the drive to come and come as hard as I can, and it doesn’t help that I have this shadowy view of her head between my legs, tongue and lips sucking my thin skin until I don’t know my own name.
“I want to be inside you,” I manage to say, my tongue feeling heavy.
She shakes her head, the vibrations driving me mad. I grip her hair tighter. I want her to stop and I don’t at the same time, but she’s the one in control.
“Kayla,” I say, before I moan as another wave of pleasure robs me of speech.
She just pumps her fist harder, and I know I’m a goner.
It sneaks up on me, like someone tackling you from behind. I’m thrown into metaphysical space, my balls emptying, shooting my load somewhere, who knows. It doesn’t matter because I’ve gone off like a detonation, light bursting behind my eyes, and the groans out of my throat are loud, hoarse, and deafening.
It takes a few moments for me to catch my breath, for my heart rate to stop galloping like an animal on the run. My thoughts won’t gather; I can only lie here while Kayla extracts herself and lies down next to me, her head propped up on her hand, her fingers tracing the tattoos on my chest.
“Hey,” she says.
I clear my throat. “Hello.” Even so, my voice is rough like sandpaper. “That was…”
“I know,” she says, completely confident in the many ways she just undid me. “It was the least I could do for three orgasms last night.”
I lick my parched lips and tilt my head to stare at her in the dimness. Her eyes are so wet and dark, and I know I have a bad habit of staring into them for too long, but I can’t help it.
I reach over and take a strand of her hair between my fingers and gently brush it off her face. There’s something about her that makes me tender from time to time. She tries her hardest not to show it, but I can see it, how vulnerable she is deep down. How badly she fights to cover it up with brevity and cynicism, but I know it’s there. It brings out my ever-present protectiveness.
“I guess you should be going soon,” she says softly.
I’m taken aback. Like a dog, my hackles go up. “Okay…”
She curls her hand around the back of my neck and leans in closer. “I don’t want you to go. But you do have two dogs at your apartment and I have to get up for work soon.”
I nod. Right. The dogs. She’s right. I’d never planned on staying the night, it just happened that way. Coming inside her was like taking a massive sleeping pill, and the fact that I just came again—all over my stomach—means I’m apt to fall right back asleep.
“Do you have a towel or tissue paper?” I ask her, nodding at my stomach, at the cum that glistens in a pool. I’m lucky I didn’t get it in my eye.
She gets out of bed, her sleek, curvy body like a woman’s silhouette in a spy film. She tosses me a tissue box from her bookshelf and I quickly mop up the mess.
“Need a shower?” she asks when I’m done. Her voice drops a register, getting all Scarlet Johansson-ish. “I could use one.”
It’s a tonic to my dick, and I feel it pulse, despite how exhausted it has to be. But I’m not exhausted. I also have no intention of going home right away if I can help it. It’s still so early, the dogs should be sleeping. They’ll be okay for a little bit before I return. I don’t know how many more minutes of Kayla Moore I get in my lifetime.
“Sure,” I tell her. She takes my hand in hers and pulls me off the bed. Now that I’m looming over her, she looks so willowy, tiny, and dare I say, helpless, even though I know she’s anything but.
She glances down, sees the stirrings of another erection.
“The hell,” she says. “How is that even possible?”
I stand there proudly before her. “Anything is possible with me.”
“You really are a beast,” she comments.
“Funny,” I tell her, “that’s my nickname on the field.”
“And in the bedroom, I guess.”
“No,” I tell her, putting my hands on the soft small of her waist and pulling her in. “Only with you.”
I can tell she’s grinning at me. She steps out of my grasp and does a sexy walk, her hips swaying back and forth, all the way to the washroom. She flicks on the light then throws her hand in front of her face, blinking hard.
“It’s a bit bright,” she says.
“All the better to see you,” I tell her, following her in.
Her bathroom is about the size of a shoe box, with a sink, toilet, and glass-encased shower. A large mirror extends along the entire wall, adding depth. I stare at our reflections. I look so giant next to her, the scars, my messy hair, the scores of tattoos. I look like a bruiser, a fighter, a reject. She looks like a princess compared to me, so delicate and soft and pale. I really am the beast here.
Thank god she likes it. She’s meeting my eyes in the reflection, and her lips part just enough for me to get a glimpse of her tongue.
“Get in the shower,” I tell her. “Lather up.”
She frowns, walking over to it and turning it on. “What are you going to do?”
“It’s barely big enough for the both of us,” I tell her. “I’m going to watch you clean yourself. Then I’m going to bend you over and fuck you silly.”
She tilts her head, appraising me with a look of wonder on her sweet face. “Who are you again? The insatiable man?”
“Perfectly paired with the insatiable girl.” I give her a half-smile and jerk my head at the shower. “Go.”
“All right,” she says slowly with a raise of her brows. She steps in the shower and lets the water run over her. Her neck goes back, her back arches, the water streams over her perky breasts, her tight little arse, over every soft and curvy part of her body. It’s like watching fucking porn but it’s live and in front of me, and for now, for these last hours of morning, she’s all mine.
I lean back against the sink, and in no time my cock is rock hard again and hot between my hands. I watch as she squirts body wash on a sponge and runs it all over her body, the white lather dripping between her tits and down the curve of her hips and pelvis.
“Play with yourself,” I tell her, my voice coarse with lust.
She smirks at me. “You’re really bossy.”
“Again, so are you.”
Kayla gives me a triumphant look then keeps her eyes locked with mine as her hands and the sponge dip between her legs. At this point, most girls would look away, feeling like they are display, exposed. But she has no problems baring all to me. She stares deep into my eyes until her own pleasure makes her break. Her head goes back, her eyes pinch shut, that gorgeous, fuckable mouth opens as she moans.
Yeah. I can’t handle much more.
I walk over to the shower and she shrinks up against the wall to give me room.
“Keep the door open,” I tell her. “Brace your hands on the edge.”
“The floor will get soaked,” she says, but still complies.
“You have towels.”
She shrugs, and I see a hint of tension in her brow. It’s not quite worry—she just doesn’t know what’s coming next.
“Should I go get a condom?” she asks.
“It depends,” I say. I grab her hair and force her head down so she’s bending at the waist, and her slick, soapy arse is pressed against the length of my cock. She fumbles for the handle of the open door, holding on with both hands. The mirror across from us displays us perfectly, though it’s slowly getting fogged up.
“Depends on what?” she asks, but I can tell she already knows what I have planned.
I slide my fingers between the cheeks of her arse, up and down, probing at her cunt and then further up. “This okay?” I whisper, tracing my fingers around in circles.
She nods but doesn’t say anything. I slowly push a finger in, then take it back out, making sure it gets extra slick and soapy befor
e it goes back in. She clenches around me, and I have to breathe in deep, making sure I don’t lose it before my cock even has a chance to slip inside.
I squeeze a dollop of the body wash in my hand, my eyes meeting hers in the mirror as our features gradually fog over. I rub it along my length and then with one hand holding her hips and the other at the base of my cock, I push myself in the tightest space imaginable.
She gasps but pushes back into me to let me know I should keep going. I take it as easy as I can, my movements slow and deliberate.
“This still okay?” I murmur, hoping she’s at least getting some thrill out of it, even if it doesn’t match mine. Before she has a chance to answer, I let go of her hip and my hand slides between her legs. It’s hard to tell if she is wet from the shower or from her own arousal. I like to pretend it’s all for me.
She immediately relaxes into my fingers, her feet taking a wide stance on the slick tiles. The muscles along the length of her back smooth out, and her head hangs down limply as she gives herself to me.
“Look at yourself,” I whisper to her gruffly. I want her to look at her reflection, at us, at the juxtaposition of our bodies. The darkness and the light. “Look at me.”
She carefully raises her head, and I meet her warm eyes, holding them in place. I push in and out, and her arse is so goddamn tight that I don’t have much time—I’m lost to her slick grip, the full milky skin of her cheeks. I’m lost to her.
Thankfully I can multitask. My fingers work faster as I pump harder, with as much control as I can muster. I can’t seem to get enough air in my lungs, and the lights are starting to flicker, even though it’s all in my own head as I try not to break eye contact with her in the mirror.
I know she’s close to coming when her face begins to contort, her jaw open and locked, her eyes fluttering, fighting to keep staring at the foggy version of me when all they want to do is close. She comes hard, shaking so violently she almost falls to her knees, and I manage to keep her upright, all her weight on my hand, my arm straining while my fingers extract every last drop of pleasure from her swollen clit.
I don’t look away. Not once. I’m going back to Scotland alone, and I need every single memory of her ingrained in my mind.
I come fast. Abrupt. It catches me off-guard, and my cries echo in the washroom and I pour into her. It feels so bloody good, I can barely stand. When I manage to open my eyes again, Kayla’s blurry reflection is staring back at me in the mirror.
“You’re a dirty boy,” she says. “A lucky boy,” she adds. “Anal already?”
I can’t help the dazed grin on my face. I shrug before slowly pulling out of her. “I’m not missing an opportunity with you around. I wasn’t kidding when I said I was spending every spare minute from now until Sunday with you.”
“Too bad you can’t come to my office in a few hours,” she says. “Maybe go down on me under my desk.”
I lick my lips. “Just say the word and I’m there.”
She grabs a towel and wraps it around her waist, leaving her beautiful tits bare. “Don’t tempt me. I’m so close to quitting my job already.” She nods at the shower. “Take your time,” she says, then walks out of the washroom.
I quickly put some body wash in my hair, not too picky with what goes on my head, and in minutes I’m out and toweling off.
I stride into her bedroom naked. Flaccid, yes, but from the look in her eyes, she’s still damn impressed. Somehow she’s already dressed for work, and the sun is just starting to rise in the east.
“You’re fast,” I tell her.
She gives me a quick smile as she puts an earring through her ear. “Might as well get ready.” Her eyes trail over my body. “So, the next time I see you, I hope you’re ready to finally tell me about your tattoos.”
My smile falters. I swallow, not ready to bare myself in that way. “I’ll tell you some stories. The rest will bore you to tears.”
“Lachlan,” she says, and the way she says my name nearly makes me hard again. She saunters over to me and puts her hand at my jaw. “You are the furthest thing from boring.”
I grunt, shrugging. She can find me as fascinating as she wants for the time I have with her, but I’m not about to sink into the truth. She’s becoming one last, much needed fling before I return to rugby, dogs, my normal life. In this kind of limited arrangement, there is absolutely no room for reality.
I grab her hand and kiss her palm. “When am I seeing you again? Can you come over after work?”
She seems to think about that for a moment. “How about around eight or so?”
I nod. “Sounds perfect.”
Her hands trail to my chest, running her fingers over my tattoos again, like she’s reading Braille. “Do you want a ride home? You’re not far from my work.”
Normally I would insist on getting my own ride, but I don’t for some reason. I’m starting to squeeze the minutes here. “That would be lovely,” I tell her.
It’s not long before I’m dressed in the suit from last night, and she’s dropping me off at my flat. The sun is shining down on the city and not a hint of fog is in sight. Everything sparkles with new clarity. Everything.
I lean over and put my fingertips under her delicate chin, tilting it toward my lips. I kiss her softly. “Thank you.”
She flushes, the pink creeping into her cheeks, and she nods. “I feel like I should be thanking you. A lot.”
“For what?”
She smiles. Embarrassed. “For finally succumbing to my charms.”
I grin at her and shake my head. “I succumbed to them a while ago, love. I was just waiting for my brain to catch up. I’m glad it did.” I kiss her again and give her a wink before getting out of the car. On the sidewalk, I lean over so I can see her in the driver’s seat. I raise my palm in a wave. “See you.”
“See you,” she says before biting her lip and driving off. I watch her go for a moment before I suck in the morning air, the only time the city doesn’t feel as dirty. I head into my flat, ready to tackle the dogs and whatever else the day is going to throw at me.
I have to admit, I’m kind of useless the rest of the day. I do what needs to be done—taking the dogs to the vet, following up on a possible adopter for Ed, hitting the gym—but my brain isn’t really into it.
It’s a change for me, to be so singularly focused on a person for once instead of rugby or the rescues. It feels good, actually, because it keeps unwanted thoughts and urges at bay. Normally, my brain feels scattered, like every neuron is shot through a prism, and instead of light and rainbows, there are different shades of black and grey. Again and again I’m drawn back to the bleak, to somewhere deep and unsettled, and it takes a lot to pull me out, to scatter those thoughts back into the light.
I know what tames that beast on my back, the one that wants me to backslide. But to pay it too much attention is to give it too much power. But with Kayla…I may still be a jittery mess with a raging heart, but at least she’s the cause of it all.
I’m out on another walk with the dogs, trying to teach Emily how to heel. It’s not easy since she’s afraid of every person, car, and object we come across. Sometimes the dogs pick up on my energy when I’m too wound up, for better or worse. I decide to try again some other day. I head back to the flat, when the truth is, I could walk forever and never burn out.
My phone rings. Bram.
“Hello,” I answer.
“Well, well, well,” Bram says. “Aren’t you the man of the hour?”
“That depends what hour.”
“Every hour, it seems,” he says. “Do you want me to tell you my good news first or do you want to tell me your good news?”
I clear my throat, perplexed. “What’s, uh, my good news?”
“Right,” Bram says. “Anyway. Mr. Mulligan, Justines’s father, and I had a meeting this morning.” He pauses and I don’t ask him to continue because I know he will. Always so dramatic. “And he’s agreed to invest.”
I grin, f
eeling relief on Bram’s behalf. “That’s excellent, mate.”
“I owe you, you know,” he says.
I grumble, feeling uncomfortable with him even saying that. “It was nothing.”
“It wasn’t nothing,” he says, sounding serious. “This wouldn’t have happened without you.” His tone is adding gravitas to everything. I think I like Bram better when he’s joking.
“Look,” I tell him, running my hand over my chin and pulling the dogs back as we wait at a crosswalk. “I did what I could. You know I like to help out if I can and this happened to work out for me.”
“Too bad Justine didn’t make it worth your while.”
“It’s too bad for Justine that I didn’t make it worth her while,” I say.
He chuckles. “Poor girl. Just like all the others, I suppose. You know, I thought you were used to going around and getting pussy where you could.”
“People change,” I tell him.
“Aye,” he says. “They do. Or do they?”
I know what he’s getting at. “Well, thanks for letting me know, cousin. It’s a relief that it all worked out.”
“You know, Lachlan, it will be a shame to see you leave.”
“For you? Yeah.”
He lets out a laugh that quickly fades. He exhales heavily. “Would have been nice to get to know you a bit better. Honestly. We never really had the chance, you know, back in the day.”
“Was a shame,” I say. “But I never made it easy on you guys. And then you moved.”
“It’s just funny that she’ll be the one to know you better.”
“She?”
“That would be your good news, right? Kayla. I got the investment, you got the girl.”
I rub my lips together. “I don’t have the girl,” I say deliberately. “And what I do have is just for a short time. Just for a few days, that’s all.”
Bram snorts. “You’re getting laid. You could sound a lot happier.”
I really don’t feel like discussing this with Bram. It’s all sorts of weird, anyway, that he and Linden and Stephanie and Nicola sit around and discuss each other’s business. My mates back in Edinburgh don’t do that.