by Zannie Adams
But she couldn’t help but feel it. Pressing with gentle persistence against the tight barrier.
Until the momentum of her motion and the pressure of his finger loosened the clenched muscle and allowed him access.
His finger was still slightly slick from her juices and it slid in fairly easily. She was so tight she could feel every centimeter of the penetration and her skin blazed with a resulting heat.
“How’s that?” Greg’s voice was hoarse and erotic as he guided her motion with his free hand and gently eased his finger inside her.
Completely inside her—where fingers shouldn’t be.
Victoria’s head fell back and she couldn’t keep her eyes open. She felt torn between the conflicting penetrations—both intense, both sensuous but utterly different. “Oh God!”
She was almost mortified by how incredibly good it felt.
“Is that good?” he asked.
She could tell he was genuinely asking but she couldn’t seem to form any words. The growing pressure at her center was so deep and intense she didn’t dare to open her mouth.
“Baby, you need to tell me if you don’t like it.” His finger pulled out about halfway, reducing the intimate stimulation.
She couldn’t bear for it to end.
“No!” she cried, levering her hips down in an attempt to regain the penetration. “Don’t stop!”
When she felt his finger slide back in, she let out a little sob of relief, her fingernails clawing at his bare shoulders with an instinctive need to feel as much of him as she could.
“So you do like it?”
“Yeah,” she huffed, accelerating her rhythm as her orgasm demanded completion. “Yeah, yeah.”
She kept her eyes closed, too embarrassed by her eagerness to look him in the eye.
She’d never known she could want something like this.
Want it so much.
“That’s right, baby,” Greg murmured in husky encouragement. “Just like that.”
“Uh-huh,” she grunted, her body tightening as she bounced over him even more erratically. “Uh-huh.”
“Do you like to feel me inside you like this?”
He was inside her all the way—the thick substance of his cock buried in her pussy and the penetration of his finger rubbing against her most intimate passage. It was the most heady, intense, raw sensation she could remember.
She never wanted it to end and was afraid it never would.
“Uh-huh, uh-huh.” Her grunts were guttural and animalistic but she couldn’t keep herself from making them. Her climax built up with torturous power but wouldn’t break.
“You’re going to come so hard. Aren’t you?” Greg’s free hand clenched around the soft flesh of her hip. “Fuck, Victoria, you’re beautiful.”
She made a sound like a strangled sob and jerked over him as frantically as she could, her breasts jiggling against her chest and her hair falling all over her face.
“That’s right, baby. Let it go.”
She wanted to. She was dying to. The erotic momentum had turned into sensual torment. She needed to come. She was working as hard as she could to chase her release—sweating now and blazing red, her lungs burning from the effort.
She released a few desperate sobs, her fingernails gouging into the skin of his shoulders.
“Look at me,” he demanded—his voice starting to sound strained. “Open your eyes.”
It took some effort but she managed to pry them open.
She saw his damp, handsome face twisted with concentration and exertion. His brown eyes were hot and primal and his lips pressed so tightly together they were almost white.
His body was tight too. He was obviously on the edge of his control.
The knowledge that he was so far gone—for her, because of what they were doing together—caused her pleasure to surge forward in a wave.
But it still didn’t break.
Her mouth fell open in a silent scream of frustration but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from his.
His finger and cock were still sliding inside her, the conflicting sensations both delicious and torturous. Then he said, “You’re killing me, baby. Try to rub your clit.”
It was an obvious thing to do. Her clit had been pulsing with aching need the whole time. She just hadn’t felt capable of letting go of his shoulder to reach down.
Now she did.
She released the brutal grip of one hand and brought it down with a jerk to the swollen folds of her flesh. She rubbed clumsily at her clit, the third source of stimulation immediately vying with the other two.
She’d lost her rhythm and balance completely and writhed frantically as she chased down her orgasm.
“There you go,” he rasped. “Let go. Oh fuck, baby, look at me.”
Her eyes had fallen shut again but she obeyed his directions.
When she met the feral intensity of his gaze, all the deep tension inside her finally shattered.
She screamed with the waves of release, her body jerking and clenching above, around, all over him.
“Oh fuck!” Greg gasped as both of her channels clamped down in tight spasms around him. For the first time, he lost control of his body and his pelvis started to thrust up into her contractions.
Then his back arched up and he froze for a moment before a wash of relief transformed his face.
She was coming down as he climaxed so she could feel the pulsing of his cock inside her.
He’d fought to keep his finger in place as her contracting muscles threatened to force out the penetration.
But he finally slid it out as her body relaxed above him.
They were both sweating and gasping. And Victoria was so drained and sated she could barely stay upright. Her face, lungs and throat were burning and her pussy felt sensitive and sore.
She let him help as she pulled off him, his slick cock sliding out of her body with a slurping sound.
Then she collapsed on the bed—naked, exhausted and replete.
“Wow!”
Greg sprawled out beside her and appeared equally affected by their lovemaking. “Yeah.”
“Wow!” She was overheated and sweaty and kind of embarrassed by how animalistic she’d been just now.
But she couldn’t remember ever having an orgasm as powerful.
After a minute, Greg managed to roll out of bed and walk to the bathroom to wash up. Victoria wanted to wash up too but she couldn’t find the energy to get out of bed.
She was still in her damp, naked sprawl when Greg returned with a wet washcloth. She stared at him in confusion until she realized what he was doing.
He sat next to her and gently wiped down her groin and inner thighs—which were sticky with sweat and the mingling of their juices.
“Thanks,” she managed to say, oddly touched by the sweet gesture.
He just smiled at her, carefully stroking her sensitive, swollen flesh with the deliciously warm, wet towel.
She felt a lot better and had almost caught her breath when made he one more trip to the bathroom and then stretched out on the bed beside her.
The silence wasn’t awkward. Instead, it seemed comfortable and strangely familiar.
As if there was nothing they needed to say.
Apparently Victoria was feeling too comfortable because, when she finally spoke, she did so without thinking.
The words just spilled out without any premeditation. “Your wife must have trained you well.”
Greg turned to stare at her with a jerk of his head.
Victoria blushed painfully. “I mean… I didn’t mean… I wasn’t thinking. Sorry.” Silently, she cursed herself for saying something so dumb.
They didn’t talk about personal things. And they certainly didn’t talk about his wife—who had died several years ago.
“It’s fine,” he said mildly. “What exactly were you referring to?”
She shrugged, feeling like a fool. “I don’t know. Everything, I guess. I mean, you’re so good at ev
erything. Sex and…and other things. And you knew to get that washcloth. I just meant… Well, the guys I’ve dated before were far more clueless than you are.”
Greg gave her a half-smile. “I imagine I’m older than them.”
“Yeah but still.”
“I suppose some of it might have been my experience with my wife. But she didn’t really train me, at least not in regards to sex.”
“I didn’t mean that,” Victoria began, terrified he’d think she was prying.
She wanted to pry. But she’d had no intentions of doing so.
“She was… She was different from you. She didn’t really enjoy sex.” Greg stared up at the ceiling. He didn’t look particularly uncomfortable, although this couldn’t be easy for him to share. “She loved me. But she was never very enthusiastic or adventurous. And I had to always be careful when it came to sex.”
Maybe that was why he was always so considerate—even when he was smoldering with passion. She’d never met a man as thoughtful in bed as Greg was.
Or as inventive.
Or as skillful.
Or as innately passionate.
“Oh,” Victoria said, feeling like she needed to say something.
She had to be careful and not read too much into this. He might be sharing this with her but it wasn’t a sign that their relationship had shifted into something deeper.
She was the one who’d brought it up.
“Do you really think I’m adventurous?” she asked, before she could stop herself.
Greg glanced back over to her. His expression didn’t hold any particular emotion but there was something oddly serious in his eyes. “Of course. Didn’t we have sex on the balcony earlier this week?”
“Yeah,” she said with another blush. “But most people think I’m quiet and boring. And I have a friend who teases me about being repressed.”
He shook his head. “Anyone who thinks that being quiet and private is a sign of being repressed is crazy. Sometimes the most passionate people are those who don’t show all their feelings on the surface.”
Something in Victoria’s chest felt like it was melting and a smile started to grow on her face, one she had no way of suppressing.
No one—no one in her whole life—had ever said anything like that.
No one had ever understood her so perfectly.
She opened her mouth to say something, although she had no idea what might come spilling out. But before she could shape the words she heard a sound.
A slamming door from the front of the house.
Her mouth shut with a snap. And she sat straight up in bed when she heard a muffled female voice call out, “Dad?”
Greg stiffened beside her, his face growing unnaturally still.
“Dad?” the voice called out again. “Dad? Are you here?”
The bedroom door was closed but Victoria still felt utterly exposed.
She’d just fucked the man beside her. His finger had been in her ass. And now his teenaged daughter had come home.
Victoria gathered the sheet and pulled it up around her shoulders in an instinctive gesture she would have found silly at any other time.
“Fuck,” Greg muttered, heaving himself out of bed and looking around blindly. “Fuck!”
Victoria saw the sweat pants he’d been wearing earlier tucked under the comforter and she tossed them over to him.
As he pulled them on, his daughter’s voice sounded again—this time closer than before. “Dad? What’s going on? Whose car is that out there?”
Victoria felt her vision blurring with an impending knowledge. Her mouth was dry and she felt sick to her stomach.
Greg made a grab for a gray t-shirt thrown across the chair and pulled it over his head as he took four long steps toward the bedroom door. His dark hair was tousled—sticking out in all directions—and the one day’s growth of beard made him look even more unkempt.
He was a mess. And he looked adorable. But that was the last thing on Victoria’s mind at the moment.
She couldn’t stop thinking about how they’d been fucking just a few minutes earlier.
And that his nineteen-year-old daughter was in the hall.
Darting one last anxious look back at Victoria, Greg left the bedroom, closing the door behind him.
“Carrie,” she heard him say. “You’re back a day early.”
“What’s going on? What are you doing?”
“Carrie,” Greg tried again, his voice barely muffled through the closed door.
“Is someone in there with you?” Carrie’s voice grew shriller and louder. “She’s in there, isn’t she? As soon as I leave town, you bring that slut to—”
“Don’t!” Greg’s voice snapped out like a whip. “She’s not a slut. I know you’re upset but you can’t—”
“I’ll call her whatever I want! I can’t believe you brought her to the house!”
Victoria was still sitting in the bed, shaking and squeezing her eyes shut. It sounded like Greg was trying to get Carrie back down the hallway and toward a more distant part of the house so they wouldn’t have this conversation only a door away from Victoria.
But Carrie was shouting so loudly Victoria could still hear her.
She put her hands over her ears, trying to block out the sound.
A buzzing started to grow in her head as she pretended this wasn’t happening.
It was just supposed to be sex. Great sex with an attractive, experienced man.
It was supposed to be free of complications.
It was never supposed to lead to a screaming teenaged daughter, calling Victoria a slut.
When she couldn’t stand it anymore, Victoria forced herself out of bed. As she hurried into the bathroom, she could hear Carrie yelling, “She’s like fifteen years younger than you! Is she after your money?”
Victoria felt like she might choke as she closed and locked the bathroom door. Then she turned on the shower as hot as she could stand and stepped under the spray.
She sobbed a few times into her hands, unable to resist the involuntary emotion.
Her life had always been lived with a certain degree of peace and sanity. And this incident had disturbed the very fabric of her identity. This kind of thing didn’t happen to her.
She’d never been this woman.
By the time she’d finished scrubbing down her body, she’d regained her typical quiet composure.
And she knew what she needed to do.
The screaming had stopped when she turned the shower off and toweled dry. As she went into the bedroom to pull out her overnight bag, she heard the front door slam and then the squeal of tires.
Carrie must have stormed off in a full-fledged temper-fit.
Victoria had put on jeans and a button-up shirt and was braiding her long, wet hair when Greg reentered the bedroom.
He was rubbing his face. When he lowered his hands his expression was torn and exhausted.
Victoria understood how he must feel but she didn’t let herself dwell on the pang of sympathy.
“What are you doing?” Greg asked at last, after he’d watched her grab her little cashmere pajama set and stuff them back into the bag.
“I’m leaving.” Her voice was cool and natural. She’d made her decision and she was certain of it now.
“You don’t have to leave. I’m sorry you had to hear that but she’s not going to—”
“It doesn’t matter.” Victoria found the bra she’d been wearing the day before flung over the chair beside the bed.
Greg seemed to recognize the finality in her voice because he froze, standing in the middle of the floor. “Victoria? What’s going on?”
With a sigh, she said what she’d unconsciously known she would need to say—ever since his daughter had entered the picture. “It’s not worth it, Greg. We’ve had a good time. But I think it’s time to end this.”
His face closed down in a strange way—becoming completely unreadable. “Why?” The one word was bit out.
Victoria sat down on the bed when her legs would no longer hold her up. She was so tired. She just wanted to go to sleep and not wake up until all of this was over. “I don’t know what your relationship with your daughter has been like. But she’s obviously not ready for you to be…to be moving on like this.”
“She’s not a child. She needs to adjust.”
Victoria looked him in the eye. “Are you going to stand there and tell me that she’ll just need a few days to get used to the idea and then everything will be fine again?”
He stared at her for a long time, his lips pressed tightly together. Then he broke the gaze and looked to the side. “No. We have a lot of work to do.”
“And this thing with me will only get in the way. You should concentrate on your daughter right now.”
“Victoria.” Greg’s voice cracked on the word. He cleared his throat and walked over to her, putting his strong hand on her shoulder. “I don’t know why they need to be mutually exclusive.”
She shook his head—feeling a poignant kind of loss and a strange numbness at the same time. “We can’t always have everything.”
She’d never had everything with Greg. She hadn’t even had close to everything.
“It’s always just been sex between us, right?” she asked. She couldn’t help feeling a desperate kind of hope on the last word.
There was a chance—the tiniest chance—that he’d changed his mind.
That he wanted more than sex with her.
His gaze was quiet and infinitely sober. “Right.”
The stupid, tiny hope crushed in her chest. But she didn’t even wince. Just said coolly, “Are you actually going to tell me that sex—just sex—is more important than your daughter?”
Greg closed his eyes very briefly. “No,” he admitted. “It’s not.”
“Then it’s pointless to keep this up. It’s only going to complicate things with Carrie. And this would have ended eventually anyway. We might as well do it now. Before things get any messier.”
She waited for just a moment—to see if he’d object any further.
He didn’t.
He took a deep breath and released it, looking out the window as he did. “All right.”
And so all that was left was for Victoria to finish gathering her stuff together. She didn’t have all that much stuff over here anyway so it didn’t take very long. When she closed her bag, Greg was still standing a few feet away, watching her.