An Everlasting Pursuit (PURSUIT, #3)

by Liv Bennett

  “Don’t worry. I used condoms.”

  “Condoms, plural?”

  She has to ask that? “I couldn’t be content with fucking her just once. And yeah, I bought condoms because I’d been meaning to fuck her for a while.”

  “Fuck you. I hate you. I never want to see you again.” She cries. Her words are mixed with sobs and her signature, cat-like moans. Yet, her inner muscles begin convulsing around my cock. Her body is trembling under me, pushing me hard toward my own climax. But, I have to focus. She deserves another orgasm. I keep my speed steady and ram into her with everything I’ve got. Her contractions continue, which can only mean she’s reached a second orgasm before the first one subsided. That’s my girl.

  “You might hate me but your pussy loves every inch of my cock. I don’t think you can leave me even for a day.” I ram two more hard strokes into her, before I fill her insides with my release.

  Her sobs are loud and break my heart. I guess I’ve taken it a little too far. With my cock still inside her, I free her arms and cup her face with both hands. “I was just messing with you. I haven’t touched Bree or any other woman, for that matter. I just wanted to give you a little punishment for denying me my morning fuck.”

  Her eyes grow large as they examine my face, looking for a hint for truth. “You are—” I kiss her before she can say anything else. I lick her lips, and they part easily to allow my tongue in. Her tongue strokes mine gently.

  She believes me.

  She knows she’s the only one for me, and I can’t touch another woman. She owns me completely; my heart, my thoughts, my body are hers to use and to take advantage of to her heart’s content. Our bodies still connected, we stay for a moment, declaring our love and longing for each other with sweet kisses.

  She’s mine and I’m hers. Nothing can ever change that.

  3 – The accomplice

  I know what I’m about to do is wrong. Terribly wrong. But, I’m going to do it anyway, because I owe Valerie more than my life. She’s not a monster like everyone loves to believe. She’s caring, and responsible, and sticks with you no matter what. And, much braver than anyone else I’ve ever met in my life.

  My friendship with Valerie goes back to my early high school years. She’d been best friends with my older sister first, but she had to repeat the tenth grade twice and ended up in my class. After several overnight stays at our place, she found out about the dark secrets of my family.

  Namely, my sister’s biological father.

  My mother had fallen head over heels in love with him, when she was barely an adult. However, her love was a short-lived one because of the alcohol and anger issues of the man. Soon after my sister’s birth, my mother managed to flee him, moving from town to town for two years to throw off scent, then settling in Northern California once she married my father.

  Even after several years, she feared he’d find her and make her pay for vanishing suddenly. I didn’t think he cared so much about my sister, but from what I heard from my mother, he’d been obsessed with my mother, overly jealous and possessive. He loved her with a twisted mind.

  My mother’s worries ended only after we’d heard in the news that he’d been imprisoned for killing his landlord during a fight over his unpaid rent.

  Everything changed in an unfaithful night, though.

  I remember the details very clearly, as if it happened last night. School was canceled midday due to heavy rain, and I invited Valerie over to our place until the rain calmed down. It didn’t, so she stayed overnight. It struck me as odd that she didn’t call her mother to inform her about her whereabouts. But, hey, who had the perfect family? Definitely not me.

  My sister, Valerie, and I were in pjs, gossiping about the boys and putting makeup on each other’s faces, when the front door was thrown open with a loud bang. I didn’t need an introduction to know who the giant man with a murderous face and an axe in his hand was.

  A mother-fucking axe.

  When there were a hundred different types of weapons to use, he had to choose a freaking axe, close to the size of a chair. He surely didn’t come for a friendly discussion.

  Thunder cracked, as he stepped inside the house with his muddy boats, and we three shrieked and screamed at the same time.

  “Where is that cunt?” he roared like a wild beast, and I swear I felt my body forced back with his words as if a typhoon were blowing against us.

  My poor mother appeared at the doorway of the kitchen, with a pathetically small knife in her hand. Even if she had a list of weapons, rather than that joke of a knife, she’d still have no chance against that monster of a man. She motioned us to go into the kitchen, but the monster yelled at us not to move an inch or else he’d throw the axe at us. I was ready to stay there, paralyzed, for the rest of my life rather than have the axe splitting my head in two.

  “I’m the one you want. Let the girls go,” my mother begged. The uselessness of the knife was clear to her, too. I never knew if she kept a gun at home, and now didn’t seem like the right time to ask.

  He simply shook his head and kicked the door close with his foot, before walking toward us.

  “Which one is mine?” he asked. I noticed my sister’s pajama bottoms soak immediately after his question. Why did he want to know it? Was he going to kill his own daughter?

  My mother cried “No.” Did she guess his intentions were nothing less than menace?

  To all of our utter shock, Valerie took a step toward him, as if he wasn’t scarier than the scariest monsters in horror movies.

  “Father, is that you?” she whispered. It took me quite a while to understand what she was doing, and I was sure my sister hadn’t even registered anything because of shock. I hadn’t seen Valerie crying before, but I could tell without hesitation that she was crying, like for real. Tears washed down her face as she rushed ahead and threw herself into the arms of the monster, all the while screaming, “Father, father, you came back for me.”

  To this date, I don’t know what exactly made her cry like that. I guess most likely the fear, but I have a nagging feeling deep down that she wished her own father would come to her and claim her the same way that monster showed up in our lives.

  We watched Valerie cry and sob against the monster’s chest, spreading her small arms around his waist, murmuring inarticulate words, while looking directly into his eyes. At that brief moment, she earned my deepest respect. She, a skinny seventeen-year-old, barely reaching the monster’s elbows, without any gun or weapon, could look directly into the devil’s eyes and lie. If there’s anyone braver than that, then I’m ready to hand him, or her, my entire savings.

  We were shocked, so was the monster. So much so that he dropped the axe in his hand and hugged her back.

  “Heidi,” he mumbled. “Look at you. You’ve grown so much.”

  “Daddy. I love you so much. Why did you leave me? You didn’t even call.”

  I feared he’d see through Valerie’s performance any second. Both my sister and her father have brown eyes, but Valerie’s eyes are bright green.

  What next, I remember thinking to myself, right before I saw Valerie’s foot lifting up in the air and her knee landing in his crotch. You’d think that size of a man would hardly notice it, but he did and even bent down in pain. Which earned him two major stomps on the feet.

  Next thing I knew, the axe vanished from the floor and ended up slicing into his shoulder. I’m glad I covered my eyes and mouth in terror at the exact moment Valerie embedded the axe into his body; otherwise my scream would likely have distracted her. To finish him off, Valerie rushed to my mother to grab the knife from her hand and stabbed it directly into his throat. Without a hint of hesitation.

  The scene was brutal and absolutely terror-inducing, but it’d have been much worse, if we’d been butchered by the monster and not the other way around. For that reason exactly, for risking her life for us without blinking an eye, I owe Valerie my life—to the extent that I’ll jump off a cliff if she asks m
e to do so.

  That’s why, when she asked my help to get back the inheritance she deserved, I didn’t think twice about being her accomplice. Even if it meant I had to go against the law.

  4 – ADAM: Jealousy rain

  I unlock the door and close it silently in case Taylor might be napping. She wasn’t at home when I arrived after work an hour ago, so I used the opportunity to go out jogging. She must have arrived by now and is probably sprawled on our bed, sleeping or trying to sleep. Despite the morning sex, I have a full load of sperm to coat her womb brewing in my testicles.

  I kick off my shoes and head toward the living room, only to come to a sudden halt at the sight of Taylor holding her phone and staring down at its screen with an expression that I know she saves only for Jack. Her dead ex-husband. My best friend and nemesis.

  Throughout our relationship, I caught Taylor gazing at his photo three fucking times. And each time it felt like a gunshot to my chest. But this time, something seems off; the deep blush of her cheeks and her hand squeezed between her thighs as if she’s masturbating, or has already done it.

  Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

  I can handle her having an innocent affection for Jack, but masturbating while looking at his pictures? Better to fuck me in the ass a dozen times than torture me like this. I move back on my toes and go back to the door to open and close it to appear as if I’ve just arrived.

  “Hello,” I call out.

  Taylor shows up; her face turns from tired to murderous in a flash. Her eyes look at me as though they’re shooting fireballs. “What the fuck? Have you been jogging outside like this?” Her hands point toward my bare chest, up and down. “Half fucking naked?”

  My eyes stare down at my chest, then move up to her face, which is now a strange hue of green. I had no idea that she cared what I wore or didn’t wear when I exercised. “Is it a problem?”

  “Yes, it is. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not really into some whores eye-fucking you on the street.” Her eyes wander down and land on my shorts. She closes the distance between us with one jump, startling me with the suddenness of it, slips her thumbs into the seam of my shorts, and pulls them down with yet another swift move. “You’re hard? What have you actually been doing? Jogging or chasing after sluts?”

  I had better take her anger seriously, or I might end up being eaten alive. “I swear I was just jogging, nothing else. I got hard only now.”

  Cautiously, I lift my arms and wrap them around her, despite the sweat dripping all around my chest. After a moment of staying stiff, finally she gives in and hugs me back. I even manage to steal a kiss from her lips.

  What a turn of events. I should have been the one throwing a fit for catching her looking at Jack’s pictures, but I’m the one cornered and blamed as if I cheated on her.

  After a quick shower, I put on a t-shirt and shorts and head for the kitchen to cook the dinner. I’d have preferred a little quickie before the meal, but I can’t, knowing she got herself off with Jack’s photos. And, she’s probably too angry to take my edge off. I start cooking tacos with bean salsa, while she reads something on her phone in the kitchen, without taking any break to talk to me.

  Something is off, and I wish I could ask. It can’t really be the half-nakedness as my jogging preferences, can it?

  The silence falls heavier during the dinner, despite my attempts to discuss some neutral, work-related issues. Except for brief yes’s and no’s and little shrugs, she eats silently, then gets up to load the dirty plates into the dishwasher, and retires to the bedroom, claiming she’s tired. I watch her disappear into our bedroom and settle into my study to work on the budgeting plans of a new project we’re going to bid for, but Taylor’s remote attitude keeps distracting me. Finally, I give in and sneak into our bedroom.

  The lights are off, but the street light peeking through the curtains provides enough light for me to see her lying on the bed, wearing a white tank top and panties. Shit, I can even see her stiff nipples poking through the thin fabric of her top, and I wonder whether her sex is wet. I stroll toward her silently and sit on the side of the bed. “What’s the matter, babe?”

  She shrugs. “Nothing, I’m just tired.”

  I reach up and brush her tender lips with my thumb. “Is that code for no sex tonight?” I joke, keeping my posture ready to flee in case she tries to punch me. Instead, she flashes me a worn-out smile. I wish there was no secrecy between us. Is she really upset with me for jogging without wearing a t-shirt, or is there something else she isn’t telling me?

  “No. I may be tired, but I still want to have sex.”

  She’d probably choose to sleep if it hadn’t been for her jealousy fit earlier. She may even be thinking she should satisfy my sexual needs to keep me from cheating on her. If only she knew how nonexistent the option of cheating on her is for me. “You don’t need to cave in every time I want sex. We’ll do it only when you want it.”

  “I’m not caving into anything.” Her hand moves from her side up to her belly, slips under her top toward her breast, and begins a slow kneading of the large globe beneath. The other one cups her crotch over her panties.

  My eyebrows rise with surprise, probably reaching up to my hairline, and I swallow hard. My cock twists and jumps to life at the sight of her little, shameless performance. “Fuck baby, what are you doing?”

  Without waiting for her to respond, I hop on the bed and position myself between her legs. Freeing her hair from the rubber band, I run my fingers through the thick strands and tilt her head so her mouth is fully under me. I lick her lower lip slowly before sucking it, while my other hand follows its usual trail from her neck, over the valley between her breasts, down to her smooth belly, and finally beneath her panties, and between her legs. “You’re soaking wet.”

  Someone once told me a man should approach a woman slowly and carefully not to scare her away. And even though you might want to directly grab her pussy, it’s better to start with stroking her body for several minutes before landing in her wet hole. Only, Taylor isn’t like that. She maybe cranky, tired, or simply uninterested, but my hand massaging her clitoris and entrance will do the trick and get her begging for my cock in a heartbeat.

  As expected, her brief tiredness disappears quickly, while my fingers rub and pull the lips of her labia and tease her entrance. My lips are kneading hers in synch with the ministrations of my hand between her thighs. She’s blushing and moaning my name into my mouth between kisses, while her hands free her arms from the straps of her top and pull it down, revealing her firm breasts for me to enjoy. Her back arches up to brush her stiff nipples against my pecs, and my head involuntarily moves down to her chest.

  I lick her nipple, then suck it like a vacuum. Its firmness is a delicious contrast to the feathery softness of the rest of her breast. I blow cold air at it and lick my way to the other breast.

  “I want you,” she moans. Her thighs squeeze my hand, craving for it to move inside of her. Her palms wander around my chest, nearing the dangerous area of my pelvis. One day, I’ll tie her up and cover her mouth, so I can just focus on her breasts, kissing and sucking them for as long as I want, and get my fill of them without getting interrupted by her pleas to be fucked.

  “Say it, babe. I want to hear it.” I fist my fingers into her hair and pull a handful. Her head tilts back with the force, and she gasps. That’s probably the only pain I can give her without feeling guilty for hurting her. And apparently, she doesn’t dislike it either and lets the words I so desperately want to hear roll off her tongue, “Fuck me, Adam, please. Now.” She pulls down her panties and kicks them out.

  “Again.” I push my forefinger into her entrance only for an inch, yet that little pressure is enough to startle her. Her hips are pushing back and forth against my hand, her sex creaming my fingers. I crawl up and lower my face to hers, my lips barely touching hers. I love having her begging those lustful words into my mouth.

  “Fuck me, please. Split me in two, shoot me all yo
ur sperm, make me pregnant. Please, I want all of you.” She’s going in for the kill. Her being fat with my child is my biggest dream, and she knows how much and how quickly it turns me on hearing those words from her mouth.

  “Then, get ready for a wild ride, baby.” I press her thighs to spread them and launch my cock inside her, intently watching her gasp for air and her irises grow larger with the blow. Her hands slide around my waist over to my ass, and her fingers pinch my skin one after another, urging me to hammer into her.

  “Don’t do that,” I warn, knowing I may lose control very easily if she pushes me to the edge.

  “Harder, Adam. I mean it.”

  She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Last time she teased me to fuck her hard, she had a burning sensation in her vagina for two days straight. Now she wants the same pain? As much as I’d like to let it go and take her the hard way I want, I don’t want to go without sex for several days in the aftermath. So, I go for the medium and thrust into her with long and slow strokes and let my fingers rub her clitoris to make her come faster.

  “Harder. I’m so close.”

  I cover her lips with mine to silence her, or I may not be able to keep my urges in check. Why is she so desperate for a hard fuck? Is it because she’s too tense and can’t loosen up enough to get off with my usual, not-so-gentle thrusts? Or she’s trying to forget or repress something else by getting herself high and sore with a rough fuck?

  She moves my hand up to her face and starts suctioning my tongue just as her pussy muscles are tightly enveloping me. She’s furious and determined to be fucked thoroughly. Which is making it impossible for me to stay focused. And for a brief moment, I lose it. Rising up on my knees, I pull up and press her legs back over her head and begin to fuck her deep and hard, and she gets off with just a few strokes.