by Hannah Ford
“Oh, Jesus that feels fucking amazing,” he let out.
I put my mouth over the head and stroked his balls and shaft as his legs shook more forcefully. I could hardly get my mouth around it, but he seemed to like what I was able to do, despite my inability to really take him in.
And surprisingly, I found that I enjoyed it quite a bit.
I liked the power of handling him, tasting him, sensing his pleasure and working him into a frenzy.
My own secret center was vibrating and humming with pleasure, bursts of moisture dripping down my thighs as I sucked his dick.
God, he was hot. His legs so powerful and strong.
His belly tensed as I worked my mouth up and down on his cock, his big dick.
I watched his belly muscles lock and unlock, and then his hands grasped my hair and his hips thrust into me.
Now he was fucking my mouth, harder and faster.
I moaned. I was losing control of his body and he was taking control of mine.
“Damn, I want to come down your throat, but I can’t. Not yet.” He pulled out and stepped away from me.
“What—“
His eyes flashed and then he was on top of me, pressing me to the floor and pulling my capris and panties down, tugging them off as my legs spread willingly to allow his hard body to climb on mine.
The floor was hard on my back, but I didn’t care.
He strained over me, pulling his pants down further and then his boxers, and he was clean shaven down there, and his balls slapped against my pussy as the shaft of his cock slid up over my clit and his head pushed up almost to my belly.
I clawed at his chest, he grabbed my hands and pinned them above my head on the floor.
“You want that dick inside you?” he groaned, his hot breath on my face as I nodded.
“I’m so close to coming already,” I said, and it was true. The feel of his shaft pressing against my bare mound, so wet and already turned on.
I could feel him between my legs, and I was naked and he was naked and his body was so amazing.
He was controlling me, holding me, and it was wrong and I didn’t care.
His cock slid into me, fucking my pussy slowly as his strong torso collapsed onto me, and our skin was pressed together like glue.
He slid deeper, deeper, deeper still, and he fucked me all the way, filled me all the way, and I arched my back and cried out.
I was climaxing already, my body contracting, my pussy tightening around his cock as he moaned too, and I could tell he was struggling to hold back.
He swiveled his hips and fucked me slowly as I came, not just once, but again and then another shuddering, mind-blowing climax.
My eyes fluttered, my lips parted.
He felt so good.
“You’re soaking wet,” he told me, and it was true.
The air smelled of sex.
His body contorted, all muscle and sinew and sweat, and he controlled me, took me, fucked me until I couldn’t see straight.
I came again.
I was nearly sobbing, it felt so good.
He let go of my hands and I grabbed his back, his ribs, as he expanded his chest and filled me again.
His hips pumped in time and he buried his head into my shoulder and then he told me. “I’m going to come all over that pussy right now.”
“Yes, come on it.” I cried out as he withdrew his enormous, stiff dick that was absolutely rigid, a vein pulsing as he spurted a thick rope of cum all over my fleshy, slick mound.
“Damn,” he shouted. He threw his head back, snarling almost, and then as he shot another hot load of cum, he pushed back into my slit, fucking me as he let out another blast.
He came inside me and then he pulled out and shot some more, slapping his cock’s head against my cum-spattered pussy mound, as a little final spurt issued forth.
I was soaked with him and with me.
I was completely spent and filled with sex.
***
Later, I lay in his arms again, and it was better than it had even been the night before.
I didn’t know how I got here and I didn’t really care. I just knew that I didn’t want this feeling to ever go away. The feeling of being so safe, so warm and protected and…
Loved?
My eyes opened a little wider in the darkness of Zack’s bedroom. We were naked, our bodies as close as two bodies could be without him being inside me. And I wouldn’t have minded if he was inside me again right then, truth be told.
My body never seemed to be able to get enough of this man. I couldn’t fathom what his hold was over me, the physical attraction so strong that I honestly wondered if he was a hypnotist as well as a fighter.
Whatever he was I just knew that in this moment, in the darkness, his body behind me, cradling me in his arms—I felt happier and more content than I’d ever felt before.
Maybe there really is something here.
Of course, I knew better than to let myself start to hope for something more out of this relationship. You couldn’t even call it a real relationship. I knew next to nothing about who Zack Wild was, where he had been or done, what his values were.
But I couldn’t deny the intense feelings I was experiencing as he held me close, the very real sense I had that I needed him in my life.
Oh God, that’s because you’re a woman who just had the first good sex of her life, Caeli. This is nothing but hormones, pheromones, all that stuff that makes a woman loopy and convinced that a bad boy with no hope of ever being tamed could ever settle down for even two seconds.
Zack is going to hurt you so badly, and you’ll have no one to blame for it but yourself.
I knew it was all true, but I couldn’t resist him.
When I thought about what he’d done to me, I instantly got wet again, and my nipples stiffened. Feeling his cock against my butt, I pushed back into him.
He was sleeping but I was already turned on and filled with thoughts of more bad things to come.
I smiled, knowing that as much as he might be destined to break my heart, there was every indication that he was as excited by me as I was by him. He was losing control in his own way, and I could see and feel his need for my body, just as I needed his.
So this wasn’t over, not by a long shot.
That knowledge calmed my nerves a bit, and I found myself slowly drifting into a peaceful sleep.
***
I awoke to the smell of bacon.
Sitting up in bed, I saw that the light filtering in through Zack’s bedroom window was light and clear. It wasn’t very early—I’d slept in.
I could hear the sounds of someone cooking. The sounds of metal on metal, popping and crackling, the smell of eggs and bacon, and perhaps toast?
I sat up in the bed and yawned, stretching. I looked around at Zack’s incredibly neat room. It was very bare, one might call it sparse. There was a hamper in one corner, a television set on the low bureau across the room, a closet with clothes folded on shelves and hanging, looking evenly spaced as though each piece had been arranged diligently.
There was an acoustic guitar sitting on a stand, a stack of magazines nearby, once again arranged elegantly, purposefully.
On the dresser to the left, there were a few bottles of cologne lined up in a row and a change bowl.
The floor was spotless.
Whatever else Zack was, he definitely wasn’t a slob.
Strangely, I didn’t feel weird waking up in his apartment, in his bedroom with the sounds and smells of him cooking emanating from the kitchen. In fact, quite the opposite—I felt as though this was exactly where I was supposed to be.
This is where I belong. With him.
Don’t talk crazy, Powers.
I got out of bed and went to the bathroom adjacent to Zack’s bedroom. I hopped into the shower quickly, literally taking five minutes to clean myself, scrub my body and wash my face.
Then I got out, changed into one of my new outfits—a skirt, sandals, and a s
imple blouse. As I was finishing up, there was a quick knock on the bathroom door.
“Breakfast’s ready,” Zack said. “You coming out soon?”
“Yeah, just getting dressed!” I called back.
“Okay, don’t want it to get cold.”
“I’ll be right out,” I told him, smiling a little as I considered how normal this all seemed. As if we did this every day, Zack waking up and making breakfast.
A routine that was stable, comfortable, loving.
Sex and then holding.
Spending days together, talking and laughing.
My smile faded as I remembered the sound of Zack’s fist crunching against the Mohawk man’s jaw yesterday, and the way that same man had crumpled and hit the muddy dirt of that backyard. The young men swilling beer and watching the show, paying Zack for his brutal entertainment.
Was this really a person that I could ever imagine having a normal life with me?
I was clearly delusional, pretending he was someone else. Just because he was good in bed and cooked a mean steak didn’t make him marriage material.
I shook my head, reminded myself that this was all temporary, and then exited the bathroom.
Zack already had the table set and the food was out and waiting for me.
Next to my plate of scrambled eggs, bacon and wheat toast, was a glass of orange juice. Beside that, a steaming mug of coffee.
“Full service dining room here,” he said, pulling the chair back for me.
I grinned, nodding. “You guessed right on how I like my eggs,” I said.
“I don’t guess,” he said, walking around to his seat and sitting, picking up a fork and digging into his food with gusto.
“So you just knew the way I like my eggs prepared?”
He shrugged. “I can read you like a book, Caeli.”
“Sure you can,” I said, but something about the way he said it felt true, which made me alternately nervous but also kind of satisfied. I liked that he thought about what I wanted and liked, and that he wanted to please me—seemingly.
“Wow, the eggs are fantastic,” I said, shocked at how good something so simple could taste. “Maybe you should be a chef instead of knocking people out for a living.”
Zack chewed and chewed, then took a sip of coffee from his mug. He was clean-shaven and wearing a black t-shirt that showed off his muscular form perfectly.
“Someone needs to knock people out for a living,” he said, sitting back and sipping from his mug again as his green eyes watched me intently.
“Are you serious? You think you’re performing a public service by beating up strangers for money?” I laughed and shook my head as I picked up a piece of buttery toast and ate it.
“I am being serious,” he replied. He put the mug down and leaned forward. “People have been watching men fight since the beginning of human history. The Romans had coliseums where they watched people fight to the death—“
“And that’s a good thing?”
“It’s just a thing.”
“So you’re like a modern day gladiator,” I said, not buying it for even a second.
“I’m just doing what I’m good at, and people seem to like it. Besides, it pays the bills and that’s pretty necessary too.”
“You could get hurt badly someday,” I said.
“I could.” He didn’t seem too bothered by the idea.
“Have you ever lost a fight?”
He thought for a long moment. “Not that kind of fight, I haven’t.”
“What kind of fight did you lose?”
He started eating some bacon and then drank more coffee, stretching his back so that his shirt rode up in front, revealing his taught stomach. “I’ll tell you what fight I lost recently—the fight to stay awake last night. I was out like a light,” he said. “Did you sleep good?”
Nice subject change, I thought, but decided to let the matter drop. It was none of my business, he’d made that clear.
Which only told me what I already suspected—that Zack was never going to look at me as anything but a cheap lay, someone to fuck. Not someone he could tell his secrets too, someone he could trust and spend months or years of his life with.
“I did sleep well,” I said, continuing to eat the meal he’d cooked me. It was impressive how good every bit of it tasted, even the coffee. As I ate, I looked across at this enigmatic, mysterious man sitting there with his movie star good looks and sexiness, his brilliant green eyes.
He was there but not there—real but not real.
How could I have slept with him? Did we really do all those things to each other? Now in the light of day it all seemed completely unreal, imagined.
I missed his arms around me, holding me tightly in the darkness and warmth.
Just as we were finishing the meal, I was going to bring up the fact that I needed to leave at some point. I couldn’t really stay at his apartment, I had no plan and no purpose.
The thing to do was go back to my parents, tail between my legs, apologize and then beg my uncle for my job back at his restaurant.
As I sat there considering my future, which seemed to unfortunately look all too much like my recent past, I opened my mouth to speak just as a knock came at the apartment door.
Zack turned to me with a deadly serious expression on his face. He put a finger over his lips and shook his head, making sure I knew not to speak or make a sound.
Suddenly, my heart was racing.
Why did he not want to answer the door? What was he afraid of?
And if he was afraid of whoever was at the door knowing he was home—then how bad might it really be?
The knock came again, louder and more insistent this time. After a pause, a deep voice penetrated from outside in the hallway. “Zack, it’s Lance. I know you’re there. Answer the door.”
But Zack didn’t move a muscle. He sat there, still, his eyes now focused into the distance as he waited.
My heart raced faster, my mouth dry. I wondered if he owed someone money, or if he’d done something even more illegal than simply fighting.
“Zack, you can’t run from this forever. You need to fucking man up and let me in, sit down and talk to me. I mean it. I’m not going away, and you’re not going to ever get rid of me until you have the balls to look me in the eye.”
Zack shook his head but said nothing.
More time passed.
“You hear me, Zack? I’m not going away, I’ll be back again, and one way or another you’re going to have to deal with what happened!”
Not long after that, there was one last, loud bang on the door that made me jump almost out of my chair. But then there were footsteps audibly retreating away, down the hall, down the stairs outside the building.
Zack got up and walked to the window and looked out and down, presumably to make sure that “Lance”—whoever that even was—was really leaving. After a moment, he turned around and came back to the table and grabbed his plate. “Are you still working on that?” he asked, pointing to my plate. His tone sounded as if nothing had even happened.
“Ummm…yeah, I’m done, I guess.”
“Want a warm up on that coffee?” he said, as he walked away carrying the plates.
“No, I’m good, thanks,” I said, getting up and following him to the kitchen. “So…who was that at the door just now?” I asked.
Zack paused for a split second before putting the plates in the sink. “Nobody,” he said, his tone making it clear there would be no discussion.
“I get it, none of my business,” I said, sighing.
He turned and gave me a strange look. Folded his arms. “Do you think it should be your business?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I just feel like you’ve asked me to stay with you and it’s kind of scary to feel like someone might come busting through the door and…god only knows what would happen.”
Zack smirked. “It’s not that kind of thing,” he said.
“Okay, so what kind of thing is it?
”
“The kind of thing that doesn’t even need to be talked about,” he said. “Someone from my past who needs to let shit go.”
“It all seems very mysterious,” I said.
“It’s not mysterious, it just doesn’t interest me,” Zack said. He walked past me, brushing against my body lightly as he walked back towards the table and grabbed the glasses to bring to the sink.
I stood where I was. “Maybe that’s how you’re going to feel about me pretty soon,” I said.
He gave me a puzzled glance as he passed by yet again. Now he was at the sink, running the water. “I don’t know what that means, Caeli.”
Him saying my name still sent pleasant shivers up and down my spine, but I ignored it. “It means that you seem quite good at walking away from people.”
“You don’t know anything about who or what I walk away from.” He rinsed a plate and glanced at me. “We could both make snap judgments based on very little information, but only one of us is actually doing that.”
It occurred to me that not only was Zack Wild sexy and gorgeous and dangerous with his fists—but also with his words as well. He was no dummy, and his intelligence and quick wit caught me a bit by surprise.
“I don’t want to make snap judgments, but you refuse to tell me anything.”
“I tell you what you need to know.”
I laughed hollowly. “Which is not very much, apparently.”
He continued washing dishes. “We just met.”
“Exactly. And yet we’ve already had sex. Clearly that was a mistake,” I said, feeling my emotions rise as I felt him treating me like I mattered less to him than the dishes in his sink.
“Don’t pretend you regret it,” he said.
“Maybe I do,” I said softly.
“Then you don’t ever have to do it again,” he said simply.
I glared at him, feeling my stomach clench. “You’re mean,” I said.
His jaw tensed as he glanced over to me. “And you’re pushy.”
“And you’re scared.” As I said the words, I realized they were true.
He smiled but his eyes flashed. “Scared of what?”
“Scared of being real, afraid of revealing any real part of who you are.”