by K. Webster
“Yes,” she moans, “deeper!”
Without thinking, I slip my free hand from the wall to grip under her thigh. I lift it up and it allows me better access inside of her. My finger grazes the pea-sized nub inside of her and she shudders wildly at my touch.
“Ahhhh!”
I massage that spot inside of her harder and force her into another orgasm before she even comes down from the first. When she lets out a pained sob, I slip my hand out of her and catch her before she collapses in the shower. Ignoring awful images, I delay those thoughts and stay in the moment with her. Gathering her soapy, languid body in my arms, I pull her to me—against my firm chest and hard cock.
Our heartbeats are now in competition on which can make it to the finish line first. The moment isn’t ruined by talking or acknowledging that this hasn’t happened to me in over a decade. Instead, we bask in the frozen moment of time.
“Are you okay?” she questions after some time. “I’m afraid to move. I can’t tell you how good it feels for you to hold me.”
I close my eyes but images of me holding her until I crush her ribs and puncture her lungs terrorize me. Quickly, I jerk them back open.
“I’m better than fine. I’m afraid to let you go.”
But the water starts to cool and I’m forced to break from her so we can rinse off before the water turns to ice.
After we’re both wrapped in our own towels and are standing in the bathroom, she speaks again. “What are those for? Do you take all of them?”
“Fluoxetine, fluvoxamine, sertraline, clomipramine. All antidepressants prescribed to help with OCD,” I say softly. Then, I point to another group on the countertop. “Zoloft, Prozac, Paxil, Klonopin, Valium. I’ve tried them all at least once. They never work.”
She frowns and picks up the clomipramine. “I read good things about this one. A lot of studies had said it helped.”
“That’s the one that I tried to pick non-existent scabs from my belly. Apparently in some people, the anxiety worsens. Besides, I feel better when I don’t take anything at all.”
“Oh,” she says, a hint of disappointment in her voice, and sets it on the countertop. “I see.”
Needing to change the mood, I stalk out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. “Why don’t you put on your new outfit? I’ll make us some breakfast before your run.”
I turn just in time to see her reaction. Her breathtaking smile lights up not only her soul but mine as well. It’s a sight to behold. A sight I’ll never tire of seeing.
My hot breath against the glass revives her smudges from when she first got here. The B encircling the heart warms me. I’ll never grow tired of seeing it here. My housekeeper was informed to leave it be when washing the windows.
She’s been running for two hours now back and forth up the beach. I miss her voice and her smell but I love how happy she seems. A couple of times she stops to suck down one of the three water bottles she took down with her in her bag. Other times she stops to stretch. And every so often, she turns toward the house and waves. I know she can’t see me from where she’s at but I always wave back.
The things she does to my heart are wicked.
Ever since she gave me the world’s best hand-job known to man, I’ve been unable to force her from my mind. Not that I’d want to anyway. For the first time in a long time, I’m able to get lost in something that doesn’t bring pain or heartache my way. She gives me something to look forward to. Baylee gives me hope.
Which is why…
I took the fucking Klonopin.
If it helps, even a little, I could touch her more. Kiss her maybe. Taste her. The thought isn’t as abhorrent as it would have been a week ago. In fact, it’s all I can think about. My mouth waters and I practically drool for a taste of her.
Perhaps tonight, I can dull my senses enough to get lost inside of her. What I wouldn’t give to be able to thrust into her tight pussy and rain worshipful kisses all over her neck and face. To let my fingers dance all over her flesh in an effort to bring her multiple orgasms.
I can do this.
At least I fucking hope so.
The timer dings and I rush to turn the heat off of the mushroom bourgignon I’d been cooking for the past two hours. Only another ten minutes left on the mashed cauliflower with garlic and chive. I hurry back to the window and look up and down the beach for her.
No blonde ponytail swishing back and forth as she runs.
No perfect ass in black spandex shorts.
No long legs striding down the beach effortlessly.
“Shit!” I hiss and my panic rises, threatening to suffocate me.
What if he took her?
Did that motherfucker come onto my beach and take my beautiful Baylee?
With a growl, I storm toward the front door. I sling it open, ignoring my fears and prepare myself to run after them. Instead of running for her, she nearly runs into me.
“Jesus, I turned my head for one second and thought he’d taken you. You scared me,” I tell her with a relieved growl.
Sweat trickles down her bright red cheeks and she grins at me. “I was tired and hungry.”
I swallow down my unease and let the joy of having her back in my presence overtake me. A week ago I’d be having a shit fit about all the toxins she’s bringing into my home. But today, I just want her home.
“Why don’t you run and shower. Dinner is almost done.”
She flashes me another cute smile and bounces off. After I reactivate the alarm, I try to still my racing heart. Will it always be this way? Me worrying over her to the point of unhealthy obsession. I already can’t work or sleep. And the only reason I eat is because she spends her meals with me. It’s like if I have to have a moment without her, I’m fucking depressed about it.
Another timer sounds and I stalk back into the kitchen. While she showers, I set the table, careful to present each plate in a perfect, even way. Our wine glasses are both filled three quarters of the way full. Exactly the same amount.
I’m not one to drink but I keep it on hand for the rare times when I can’t cope and want to drink away my insanity. I don’t let it happen often but it does happen. Tonight, if I can manage to drink a little wine on top of the Klonopin, maybe I can calm the fuck down enough to make love to her.
I wait, watching the doorway, for what seems like ages before she finally appears. She’s freshly clean but her cheeks are still a little red from her run. Her hair has been pulled into one of those neat buns she knows I love and she’s put on a sleeveless black wrap dress which ties on one side. It’s kind of short and distracts me momentarily. Her feet are bare—just the way I like them.
“You look incredible,” I rush out, craving to pull her into my arms.
She blushes at my words and takes her seat at the table. “This looks amazing, War.”
I turn on some music that calms me before sitting down with her. If we tried hard enough, we could almost imagine we were on a real date at a nice restaurant like normal people.
The evening goes off without a hitch and as we drink more wine, I feel a calm like never before settle over me. I’m not sure if it’s the Klonopin, the wine, or just Baylee that’s got me so relaxed but whichever it is, I am thrilled.
After dishes are done and put away, we retire into the living room. This time, she wins at chess and I don’t care. I’m buzzed and happy.
“Checkmate!”
Her scream is loud and I start laughing so hard I cry.
“It’s not funny!” she complains. “I win!”
“I let you win,” I try to tell her through my tears.
She snatches a pillow cushion and heaves it at me. “Asshole.”
I flash her a flirty grin that has her blushing. “You should take off that dress.”
Her mouth pops open in shock and then she narrows her eyes at me. “Are you drunk, Warren McPherson?”
Smirking, I shrug my shoulders. “Maybe I just want to see your amazing tits again.”
> My cock has been at half-mast all during our chess game but now as she stands, her heated gaze never leaving mine, it practically rips through my slacks in an effort to be set free.
“You want me to strip for you?” she purrs, batting her eyelashes as she sashays over to the stereo. She bends over and my eyes fall to her perfect ass then along the backs of her creamy thighs and muscular calves.
“Depends.”
She scoffs and puts her hands on her hips tossing me an annoyed glare. “Wrong answer. The answer is always yes when a woman asks if you want her to strip for you.”
I chuckle and boldly rub my cock through my pants. Her eyes follow my action and she bites her lip. “Baylee, if you’re going to be one of those strippers who teases me and leaves her underwear on, then I’m not interested. I want to see that pretty pussy and that fine ass.”
She gasps, clearly embarrassed by my words, and turns away to find a song. Soon, the thump of a bass has her swaying to the beat. Her body begins moving along with Justin Timberlake as she “brings sexy back.”
The music seems to be able to filter in through my ears and flow along my veins with my blood. Within seconds, I feel alive like never before. My cock aches to be inside her. My tongue waters to taste hers. My heart thumps with the beat in an effort to gallop right out of my chest and into her waiting arms.
She finds my gaze and holds my stare as she tugs at the ties on her dress. It falls open revealing nothing but skin from her collarbone to her now smooth pussy. I blink several times before attempting to speak.
“Oops, I forgot to wear them. You still interested? If not, I can tie this back up and—”
“Drop the dress and come here so I can look at you properly,” I order in a low, seductive tone. My skin buzzes and I think my cock might rip through my pants at any moment.
She lets the dress fall to the floor as she slowly moves toward me. Her body is all smooth curves. I have never wanted something so much in my entire life. For so long I’ve been shut off from the world and now it’s as if the very best thing out there is presented to me on the shiniest fucking platter.
I’d be a fool not to at least try and take it.
I will have my Baylee tonight.
Even if it kills me.
A HUNGER LIKE never before burns behind his eyes and all I want to do is add fuel to that flame. With War, he’s always holding back, always living inside of that head of his, always afraid. But now, maybe the wine has gotten into him because he’s hungry.
For me.
His tongue darts out and he licks his lips as if he wants to wet them before he puts them on my body. I’m slick between my legs with desire for him to lose control and take me. With Gabe, he’d been in control and I was a victim. Sure, I enjoyed a lot of what he did to me. But with War, I want whatever he has to offer. This morning, in the shower, it’d been heaven. Touching him and him touching me was erotic and addicting.
I want more.
“Do you like what you see?” I taunt and feign shyness as I approach.
His eyes darken and his gaze is smoldering. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
My first instinct is to be embarrassed by his words but his breathtaking smile is convincing enough to make me believe him. Tugging at my hair tie, I let my damp hair fall around me in loose waves in front of my shoulder. His eyes watch my every move.
“What now?”
He rises and takes slow steps toward me as if either he’s afraid of me or he’s stalking me, it’s hard to tell. But by the ravenous glint in his eyes, I’d say the latter. When he makes it close enough for our chests to barely touch, he lifts a hand and brushes some hair from my eyes.
“You make me feel again, Bay.” His eyes are narrowed as he inspects my features closely. I love looking at him closely because I can see flecks of green in his blue eyes. I can see the long silver scar along the side of his face more clearly and now understand he came to get it from the accident after what happened to his mother. I also like that I can see his full lips twitching at the corners as if he might break into another smile at any moment.
“You make me feel like we’re the only two people in the world,” I murmur back.
He lifts his hand and I close my eyes as he runs his thumb along my bottom lip. “So perfect,” he says in a breathy whisper that tickles my face. “I want to kiss you.”
I flutter my eyes back open and lean toward him. His scent is always so clean yet distinctly man. If I knew it wouldn’t freak him out, I’d lick his neck to see if he tastes like a man too.
“So kiss me, Warren McPherson. And mean it this time.”
His eyes darken, no doubt remembering our first kiss not long after I’d arrived and the second one much later. He’d zoned out that first time, as if he were recalling his past, and kissed me like he wanted to fuck me against the kitchen counter. The second time, he’d seemed disgusted as the demons took over his mind. But tonight, I want him to kiss me like he wants to make love to me in his bed.
“So bossy,” he says with a wicked smirk. He tangles both hands into my wild hair and draws me to his lips. The moment he grazes his across mine, a fire ignites between us. His tongue darts out, tentatively tasting my lips before pushing through and gaining access to me. I let out a pleased moan and happily meet his tongue with mine.
While he kisses me as if he’d love to devour my soul, I start undoing the buttons on his dress shirt as quickly as I can. I want him naked like me. I want him inside of me.
“Is this okay?” I murmur as I start pushing his shirt off his broad shoulders.
He groans and nips at my lip. “Better than okay.”
I smile against his lips before pulling away to focus on his pants. He sheds the shirt and tank underneath as I attempt to free his thick cock from its prison. When he’s finally standing naked in all his glory before me, I grin.
“Does the wine really help?” I question, my eyes landing on his proud cock.
He growls and scoops me into his arms. Never breaking stride toward his room, he flashes me a naughty smile. “It seems to be helping just fine. Let’s make love before it wears off.” His voice is tight when he says the words, no doubt fearing when the monster in his head will take back over.
Tomorrow, I’ll pressure him to drink more wine. Clearly, he loosens up enough to lose his afflictions, even if only temporarily. I’ll take what I can get.
When we arrive at his bed, he gently sets me down and a flash of apprehension crosses his features. I recognize the look.
What if?
What if?
What if?
“Shhh, quiet that head of yours, War. Grab a couple of towels, I’ll lie on them so we don’t mess up your blankets,” I tell him.
Relief washes over him and he nods. I get a lovely view of his butt as he strides off to get towels. Moving out of his way, I let him obsessively cover his bed in not two but six towels. I suppose he’s expecting a big mess.
I crawl back onto the bed and lie down on my back. With my best come hither stare, I non-verbally beg him to come make love to me.
“Bay,” he says with a groan and runs his fingers through his hair. “There are certain things I don’t think I can do—certain things I don’t think I can let you do.”
I frown and sit up on my elbows. “Are you going to make love to me?”
He nods but once again the demons fight for him. “I just…I just can’t put my mouth there knowing…knowing…” His horrified expression knifes at my heart. In his mind, he won’t be the lover I need him to be.
What he doesn’t understand is…I just need him.
“Warren, come here and put your cock inside of my tight pussy,” I taunt in a low, seductive voice. “I’m practically quivering with the need to have you inside of me. I don’t care about that other stuff. I just want you.”
He lets out a rush of air and nearly pounces on me. “Thank you, Bay. Thank you so much for being you.”
His mouth covers min
e as he settles his massive, warm body over mine. I hook my ankles around his waist and urge him closer. Each time his thick erection slides between the lips of my sex, I cry out with desire.
“Please,” I beg against his wet mouth.
He reaches a hand between us and positions it at my entrance. “Our juices will mix,” he says with a shudder and withdraws slightly, “the probability of—”
“We’ll clean ourselves right after,” I interrupt in a firm tone. “I promise. Don’t make me beg for your big cock because I will. All night long.”
His brows furrow in determination, hunger flashing in his eyes, and he nods. Slowly, almost painfully so, he pushes into me. I want to scream and beg and cry for him to slam into me, but I know this has to be on his terms.
“Jesus!” he hisses when he is seated completely inside of me. I can feel his cock throbbing and my pussy contracts with each pulse. We almost don’t even have to move, our bodies knowing what to do without us.
“You’ve been missing out, huh?” I mutter and wriggle my hips.
He groans and begins a slow thrust into me. “Maybe I’ve just been waiting for the perfect woman. Happy birthday, Baylee.”
My watch beeps indicating that it’s midnight and I smile. Of course my obsessive man would know a second before midnight. My sweet, perfect, counting man.
“Go faster, mister, or you won’t live to see yours,” I say with a grin.
It’s just the encouragement he needs. His hips buck against me, each thrust getting harder and harder. I try to kiss at him but he lifts up so he can watch me as he makes love to me.
“You’re so tight and fucking perfect,” he says with a grunt. “It’s never felt this good.”
I smile and then moan when he hits me deep. Curls of pleasure in my lower abdomen start their dance and I know it won’t be long before I climax with him deep inside me.
“I like it too, War.”
War satisfies a part of me that I never knew existed. He seems to own parts of my soul that I never knew were available for others to take. But he doesn’t just take from me. In its place, he gives me parts of him that I will treasure forever.