by Linnea May
“I know what you mean,” I say, mostly to catch him and save him from a place that I’m sure he identifies as showing weakness in front of me. “I understand because I feel the same way.”
The smile we exchange is fragile and strangely shy. It speaks of distance between us, a distance that shouldn’t be there.
His eyes follow me as I get up from my seat and walk toward him. Next to a shared love for silence, touch has always connected us; a touch that was so intimate and special so early on. I want to go back to that place, to that feeling we shared before profound honesty dug a temporary trench between us. I want to mend the broken pieces it left behind and blend them to something new, something even better than before.
He pushes his chair away from the table, creating enough room for me to straddle him while I grab his face between my hands and plant a soft kiss on his lips. He grabs my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh with possessive need as he pulls me closer.
27
Melina
“I want to see you this time.”
My words aren’t any more slurred than his, laced with frenzied need as I try to tear the barrier of his clothes from his ripped body.
He brought me up to the third floor, revealing even more of his marvelous home as he pulled me past an enormous bathroom, all in white marble and topped with golden fixtures, and through a bright hallway lined with gigantic pieces of modern art—paintings not photographs.
The master bedroom is dark in contrast, dressed in dark gray with white accents. A silver four-poster king-size bed dominates the room, and bright and airy curtains cover floor-to-ceiling windows. The white stucco in this room stands out against the dark gray walls, adding an art nouveau touch to the otherwise contemporary and very masculine room.
Despite its cool and monochrome color scheme, the room is comfortable, especially here on top of the soft mattress. Covered with silk linen in dark silver, it looks like steel but feels like a comforting hug.
I’m sitting on top of him, straddling him as I did downstairs on the chair. He just lifted me with ease, carrying me up the stairs while we remained in a hot and hungry embrace.
Our lips barely parted from each other, indulging in a demanding kiss while our hands hurry to explore each other’s bodies.
“No blindfold then,” he breathes between our kiss before he finds the zipper of my dress at the back, pulling it down as soon as his fingers grasp it. He removes my dress by dragging it up over my head, forcing me to lift my arms for agonizingly long seconds because it interrupts me from freeing his beautiful torso.
I’m in my bra but not for long, my fingers fiddling with the buttons of his dark dress shirt while his fingers trail along my back, searching for the hook to bare my tits for him.
I can feel his hardness between my legs, his erection growing as we undress each other. He groans when I grind against his bulge, tilting my hips seductively as I take from him as much as I give.
As soon as my bra is unhooked, he rips it off my body, throwing it aside without another thought. He breaks our kiss, kneading my breast with urgency as he wraps his lips around my left nipple. My head falls back, a groan filling the room as I feel the slight pain of his suction travel through my core.
I manage to unbutton his shirt, now tearing apart the dark fabric to expose his chiseled chest. My fingers trail along the sides of his buff arms, moving all the way up to his bulky shoulders, before tracing the hard valley around his collarbones. He bites into my hardened nipple, evoking a yelp of pain and pleasure as my body jolts. I’m still throbbing with hot torment when he moves over to the other side, repeating the same motions on my right nipple.
My fingers try to dig into the planes of his chest but are met with invincible strength. He’s radiating heat and power, oozing sex with every inch of his agitated body.
A surprised shriek flees my lips when he cups my ass, his fingers sinking into my soft flesh as he jumps up, taking me with him and turning around to throw me on the bed, sprawled out on my back in front of him.
“Lose those panties,” he commands, hastily unbuckling his pants.
I look up at him, my eyes glued to his sculptured physique as I watch him undress. My gaze travels along the defined outline of his muscles, sun-kissed skin stretching over his strong pecs down to the detailed outline of his six-pack and the happy trail that leads to the last part of his body still covered by dark fabric. I exhale audibly, giving room to the sexual tension that the sheer view of him provokes inside me. He removes his boxer briefs, and his massive erection springs free, dripping with need as he steps closer.
“Distracted?” he asks as he climbs on top of me, forcing me down onto the mattress. “I said lose the panties.”
My hands rush down to my hips, but he’s faster than I am, his fingers hooking under the thin hem of my thong before he tears it apart in one brute move. The fabric cuts into my skin before his actions destroy it, but I don’t care.
My legs part on instinct, and I’m surprised to find him following my call right away. He doesn’t tease me this time, doesn’t play with his tip at my lips, but he thrusts forward in one violent motion. I groan as he stretches me, shoving himself inside until his pelvis presses against my mound.
We are as close as two people can physically be, his hard cock filling me while he lowers himself onto me, his chest pressed against mine, leaving just enough room for me to breathe while our lips meet again, robbing me of air in a different manner. I wrap my legs around his waist to get even closer to him, the heels of my feet digging into the hard outline of his ass.
“Melina.”
He breathes my name between our kiss, nothing but a whisper, but so full of affection that it makes my heart jump. Our tongues move more lively than any other part of our bodies, intertwining in a feverish dance while our bodies remain glued to each other, his hips tilting ever so slightly as he moves inside me.
My fingers journey along his strong back, following the outline of his solid shoulder blades and the muscles embracing his ribs. A euphoric swarm of butterflies flutters through my core, all the way down to my sensitive center, where vital need oscillates.
I’ve never felt this close to anyone, not physically and not emotionally. It’s as if our deep and honest conversation carries over to our lovemaking. He’s trembling; his entire body tense with desire as he copes with the urge to fuck me without hurting me. It’s still there. I can feel the beast raging inside his chest, the overwhelming longing tormenting him while he holds back with all his strength.
“Fuck me,” I whisper close to his left ear. It’s the side that’s less damaged, but I’m still unsure whether he’ll be able to hear me despite being so close. “Fuck me. Hard.”
He groans, his hip angling even closer so his length fills me more. I nibble at his earlobe, biting and pinching with my teeth in case my words don’t do the trick.
“Be rough with me.”
My voice is hoarse, crippled with impatient yearning.
A faint pant of relief traverses my lips when he lifts his body to support himself as his dark eyes seek mine, asking for approval.
“Are you sure?”
I nod, reciprocating his look with a devious smile. “I trust you.”
That is all the confirmation he needed. To my surprise, he doesn’t just start fucking me voraciously right away. Instead, he backs away from me, getting up from the bed and walking away. My surprised gaze follows him, fixating his tight back as he strides to the other end of the room.
“Lie down,” he says without looking at me. “With your head where it belongs, arms stretched to the side.”
I nod even though he can’t see it and follow his demand. I hear him opening a dresser drawer on the other side of the room, and by the time I’m positioned the way he told me to, he’s already on his way back to the bed with a piece of black rope in his right hand.
My heart jumps with excitement as he hovers over me, fastening quick knots around my wrists and securing the
m around the bed posts at my sides. I squeal when he grabs me by the hips, pulling me down a little so I’m positioned closer to the center of the bed with my arms stretched to the side and to the top.
I part my legs before he gets a chance to order me to do so, but he helps me by placing his hands on the inner side of my thighs, tilting my hips and exposing my core even more. Not even a second passes before he’s back inside me, his cock sliding between my slick fold with ease while I moan in pleasure. With the way he’s pushing my legs up and apart, he angles my center in a way that makes his intrusion feel so much more powerful, making him feel even bigger than he already is.
He fucks me with violent thrusts, the whole bed shaking as he takes me with carnal desire. My pussy clenches around him, each shove sending a new wave of bliss through my heated core while my pulse races with delirious excitement. Shit, he could make me come this way even without touching my clit.
But he has other plans.
I try to keep my legs in the position I came to appreciate so much when he withdraws his hands, removing the support I needed to remain at that very delicious angle. His hands travel along my body, enclosing the curve of my hips, my waist, until he tickles the lowest part of my ribs, moving upward to cup my breast. My tits are on the small side, fitting perfectly into his big palms as he starts kneading them, twisting my hard nubs between his thumb and index fingers. He’s careful at first, only teasing me, a quiet promise of the things he could do to me while he continues to piston in and out of me, tearing me apart with his impressive size.
I cry out in pain when he increases his infliction, causing both of us to grimace in pain as the volume of my voice disturbs the calm nature of our lovemaking. But it doesn’t stop him from torturing my aching nipples even more, sending another hot crest of ache through my chest as he pinches and twists them between his rough fingers.
Be rough with me.
I told him to be like this, to do this to me.
And I don’t regret it.
I bite my lips this time, suppressing a yelp in pain while fiery affliction is taking hold of me.
“Good girl,” he praises as he lets go of me.
I melt into the silk linen beneath me, dizzy with the torment he just inflicted upon me. By now, I’m familiar with the high that follows such handling, and when the anguish turns into a warm throbbing, no longer biting with fierce savage but massaging my mind and body in a soothing and erotic way, I surrender to the smile on my face.
His hands are back on my thighs, elating my delight even more when he pushes my legs up and apart as he did before. But he only holds me there with one hand, using the other to fondle my core after he pulls out in a sudden and surprising retreat.
I cast him a quizzical look, my vision blurred with lust, but I can still see the sexy smirk that spreads across his handsome features as he caresses my wet center, wetting his fingers before he moves them south, cautiously teasing my tight entrance.
A question blends with the mischief on his face, and I reply with a wordless nod, welcoming the prospect of what he’s about to do.
Yet I jolt when the first finger enters my tightness, the taboo that comes with such intrusion fueling my arousal. He keeps his thumb dangerously close to my hardened clit, massaging slowly as he fingers me, and bringing me closer to a climax I’m not yet willing to give in to.
He removes his finger and replaces it with the much, much thicker tip of his dripping cock. With a size like his, the ache will be enormous, but I’m expecting so will the gratification be in the end.
I let out a groan when he pushes forward, stretching my narrow hole, moving very slowly and with tense caution. The effort not to ram inside me with impatient need is visible on his strained face, laced with hot pleasure.
It hurts, it fucking hurts like nothing ever has before, but I breathe through the pain, taking him in and needing just as much strength as he does to cope with what he’s doing to me.
A surprised sigh escapes me when I can feel his pelvis pressed against my ass, knowing that I’ve taken all he has to give. He doesn’t move for a few seconds, freezing to give me time to accommodate him. I pant frantically, flying on a cloud of distress and ecstasy as the pain not only becomes bearable but enjoyable.
He can tell by the look on my face that the sensation has changed to pleasant, no longer tormenting me but providing me with heaven instead of hell.
That’s when he starts thrusting. The shriek that I let out when he starts fucking my ass, slowly at first, but thoroughly nonetheless, is the last sound that escapes my lips before there’s nothing but flesh banging against flesh, our erratic breathing, and moans of pleasure mixed into a tranquil blend that is truly ours.
His ruthless shoves speak of callous need, but they are tame and trained not to hurt me. His eyes always seek approval, even now, keeping me safe, caring more for my pleasure than his own. His thumb circles my swollen clit, adding to the excitement and propelling me toward my release with relentless speed.
Our rapture comes in unison, tearing through us with such bestiality that it brings tears to my eyes. I’m bursting, succumbing to blinding delectation while his lustful groans echo through the room as he finds his release deep inside me.
We melt into one, sweating and heaving when the waves recede and leave us behind, shackled by fierce and unbridled joy.
28
Rowan
I hardly recognize my father. He looks so frail and tiny, only a shadow of the man he once used to be. His skin is almost as white as the sheets he’s lying on, his eyes underlined by dark shadows, and his cheeks hollow, giving him a malnourished look.
“Don’t look at me like that, son,” he says, jutting his chin toward me. “I’m not dead yet.”
I scoff. “You look like shit, though.”
“Rowan!” my mother exclaims next to me, landing a warning slap on my forearm while my father laughs in his bed.
“Oh, come on, you know he’s right.” He winks at me. “There’s no hiding it anymore, I guess.”
I shake my head, my chest heavy with the knowledge that he will be gone soon. Very soon, from the looks of it. I talked to the doctor before coming here, barely maintaining composure as he shared the updates with me. They didn’t manage to keep the cancer from spreading, but the treatment slowed it down as much as one could hope. Still, at this point, we’re talking weeks, maybe months—not years—until my father is no longer with us.
He was hospitalized last week, a day before I invited Melina to my home for the first time, but I didn’t hear about it until today, which still angers me.
“You should’ve called me sooner,” I say to my mother, who immediately raises her hands in defense.
“Your father told me not to!” she insists. “He said I was making a fuss, and we shouldn’t worry you.”
She looks thinner, too. Her olive skin has lost its glow, and her once dark hair shows more gray strands than before, revealing that she no longer bothers to dye it as religiously as she used to. She’s still dressed up, wearing jewelry and makeup in an attempt to hide the equally dark circles under her eyes. It doesn’t fool me. Her suffering is evident, but she’s trying to keep it together, trying to stay the woman my father fell in love with so long ago while he’s battling his last fight.
I ache at their sight, both of them. It’s not just impending grief that bites into my soul, but regret, a fucking deep regret for my past wrongdoings. I took them both for granted. I took everything they gave me for granted despite the heavy weight that came with the responsibility of being their only son and heir.
Melina made me realize how lucky I was to have them—just in time when I was about to lose one of them.
“You have enough on your plate right now,” my father says, shifting on his bed, his movements showing that he’s not as weak as he may first appear. “How’s it going over there? Dwight says you’re not seeing eye to eye on some things.”
I sigh, catching my mother’s warning gaze as I lea
n back to him. I know she doesn’t want us to talk business. She warned me not to when we talked on the phone earlier, saying that my father needs rest and not to bother him with the stress he left in my hands.
She may have a point there, but I know my father well enough to know that he craves something other than my mother’s worrisome chatter and the doctor’s threatening prognosis. A silent plea flickers in his dark eyes as he looks at me, twirling his hand as he beckons me to speak.
“Things are going well,” I start with a slight lie. “But yes, Dwight and I aren’t on the same page with everything, that’s true.”
“Tell me,” my father urges. “What’s going on?”
My mother sighs next to me, realizing that she’s powerless against his wishes. No matter what she deems right for him at this time.
“We’re disagreeing about how to deal with Mentor,” I say. “I know you’ve been trying to lock them down as a client in years, but the problem is they know. They feel our company’s desperation, and they’re taking advantage of it.”
I clear my throat, adding a little pause to gauge his first reaction. My father just looks at me, his face unreadable.
“The conditions they want us to sign are in their favor, by far,” I continue. “The return of investment on our side is laughable at best. It would be insane to sign the contract. I’ve been trying to negotiate better terms, but they’re adamant, unwilling to make even the smallest concessions.”
My father nods along as I talk. His face remains apathetic for the most part, but his expression is now laced with a hint of disappointment.
“I know how important this was for you, or still is, but ...” I utter, unsure whether I should be this blunt with him. “I don’t think we need them. I think it would hurt the company to sign with them under these conditions. It would cost us money, and it would set the wrong precedent if word gets out about that foul contract. Dwight disagrees with me on this. He’s insistent we go with their demands, claiming he wants to honor your wishes for the company. And ... I don’t know, maybe he does, but still I—”
