by Claire Adams
He stormed off towards the bedroom. I followed closely behind him and watched as he went to his bedside table and pulled the Taser out from the drawer.
We stood next to each other in the living room. He handed me the Taser, and I took it, feeling him tremble as he relinquished it.
“Unlike you, boy, I don’t need the cops to fight my battles,” I said. “I take care of things on my own. Now, you’re going to call the D.A’s office and drop the charges you have against me.”
He began to glare at me, attempting to show no fear. I waved the Taser in his face.
“Do it, or this is going to wind up in the possession of my lawyer, and your credibility will come into question, and the whole thing will fall apart—I mean, all I need is our star witness to come to my defense anyway. You have no case.”
“No jury would care what she has to say,” he muttered. “And you got thrown out of your apartment after you destroyed the place like an animal. Juries will see photos of how you left me in that parking lot, and it won’t matter what anyone has to say. You break into my place, smash in my door, and you bark orders at me? Who do you think you are? You’re not supposed to be within a hundred feet of this building. I suggest you hire a real lawyer, otherwise I’m going to be taking money out of your bank account every month for the next ten to fifteen—”
I snapped. I sent a swift kick at him, knocking him back onto his couch. I finished my combo with an uppercut, knocking his head back enough to discombobulate him.
I sat down on the couch next to him, turned on the Taser, and pressed the weapon against his neck, brutally wishing I could damage him beyond easy repair. He was breathing heavily, attempting to raise his arms. I didn’t care if he was trying to surrender.
“Maybe I’m not making myself clear, so let me try again,” I growled. “Because I feel like I’ve been on repeat now for the past few weeks. I feel bad. Maybe you’re just too fucking stupid to understand what I’m telling you.
“You will call your lawyer and tell him that you wish to drop your charges against me. Then, you will have twelve hours to be out of this apartment before I come check to make sure you’re gone, and that you will never return to this complex again. You will never speak to Hannah again, you will never speak to me again, and if you tell any person about what’s happening right now, then I will ensure that the remainder of your life is utter hell.
“If you don’t do exactly what I just told you to do, I will use this Taser to fry the brain out of your skull. I’ll tie you down and keep pumping you full of juice until your heart explodes inside that fucking ribcage of yours. I’ll kick your head so hard you’ll start losing some of your senses. For putting me in jail, boy, you’re lucky that I’m being so soft on you right now.”
I stood up and pocketed the Taser. I spotted his cell phone on his coffee table. I took it and tossed it over to him.
“Don’t worry if he’s busy; I’ll just wait till he picks up,” I said before propping myself up against his useless front door.
Things occurred rather quickly. I watched him tell his lawyer on the phone, awkwardly and uncomfortably, that he was deciding to drop the charges against me. Then, I witnessed him begin to pack up some of his belongings, constantly looking back at me in disbelief, but vigilantly working. It was surreal.
Without a word, I eventually took my leave, half-heartedly shoving his doorknob back into the hole from whence it came and closing the door behind me.
I planned to do just as I had warned and check on him that next day, but it was unnecessary. Sometime in the night, Jared actually finished packing up his entire apartment and had left. I never saw him again.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Hannah
I rarely ever thought about my job at Omicron after my work was done and I was home, especially on a Friday. It wasn’t even in the back of my mind over the last week in particular. But two of my major clients dropped me as their office supplier, and I had no idea why. I sat on the couch brooding, beginning to think about my performance at work and whether I had done something wrong.
Thankfully, my masochistic self-analysis was brief, because the source of most of my thoughts and attention had come in through the front door.
Sawyer and I were having sex constantly, almost at every available moment. I was always happy for those moments because they were always spectacular. I still relished in his honesty: he was more than good in bed; he was amazing.
It wasn’t even just that he was good in bed. I felt like we were good together. We seemed to be in sync nearly every time our bodies connected. I was concerned going in that our casual nature was going to deter from the experience and that I wouldn’t be able to enjoy it as I had with my ex-boyfriends. Fortunately, that wasn’t a problem.
What else surprised me was just how much enjoyment I got out of the few types of sessions we had together. We used our hands on each other, and it was only he, so far, who was in command in bed. Our positions only varied slightly, but even a slight degree shift could make the difference from pleasure to overwhelming ecstasy.
He could tell that my mind was wandering in the sexual realm. He got on the floor in front of me, sitting on his knees. He leaned into me and kissed me. Even a quick peck on the lips was enough to make me want him.
“Happy Friday,” he muttered.
“Happy Friday,” I said back unenthusiastically.
“What’s up?” he asked, picking up on my discontent.
“Nothing, just had a shitty day at work.”
“You want to talk about it?”
“…No, not really.”
He laid his head on my lap, stretching his arms out in a bizarre sort of hug around my body. I stroked his hair, playing with it. I didn’t want to dwell on anything that could impede me from enjoying my time with Sawyer.
“How was your day?” I asked him.
“Not bad, I think,” he replied. He tilted his head out of my lap and laid it against his arms. “Work was fine, normal. Talked to Jared…”
I nearly threw him off me. I forgot to breathe. I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard.
“We just talked, don’t worry,” he said. “He agreed to drop the charges.”
I almost wanted to run over to Jared’s and verify his story. I stared into his eyes, and I still saw no deceit in them. Still… was he just trying to protect me? To calm me down?
“Uh… what did you say to him, exactly?”
“Well, I made him give me this—”
Sawyer pulled out a Taser from his pants back pocket. It took me a few moments to truly register what I was looking at.
“He admitted to going into your apartment to get it,” he said. “I made him give it back to me. I told him I’d take it to the police if he didn’t drop the charges. I watched him call the lawyer. It’s all good!”
“And that’s it?”
“I told him he had to leave.”
I wondered what that part of the conversation must have looked like.
“He’s not ever going to bother us again,” he said. “Now, you don’t have to worry.”
“You were more worried than I was, Sawyer,” I reminded.
“Okay, so I won’t have to worry about you anymore, whatever,” he said.
I blushed at the idea that he was trying to protect me. I didn’t need, nor did I want, any guy to be overprotective of me or act like I was incapable of taking care of myself, but it did feel nice to know that he was clearly responding to me in other ways beyond our bodily desires.
“You want to go out to eat?” he asked me.
I smirked, plotting.
“We could eat in,” I suggested.
“Sure, you want delivery?” he asked. “Pizza or Chinese sounds pretty good.”
“I was thinking maybe we could have dessert first…”
I unbuttoned my pants and slowly unzipped them, waiting for him to catch on. He moved his head back into my lap, kissing my legs through my pants. He pulled them down to reveal o
ne of the most transparent pairs of panties that I owned. They were already moist from feeling his warm head in my lap and arms around my body.
“You’ve proven your skills so far,” I said. “Impress me again, Sawyer.”
“Absolutely,” he concurred.
He pulled my panties off fast, but he made his way up my body slowly. He kissed and rubbed my feet, giving me an added perk that I hadn’t anticipated or thought to ask for. This alone was giving me chills all over my skin.
He kissed my legs, taking his time along my thighs, subtly grazing my center whenever he had the chance. He knew how to tease, and it was enough to make me want to grab a handful of his gorgeous hair and guide his head to me.
He was gracious and didn’t tease for long. He gently licked up and down my pulsating sex. He was replacing my own wetness with his saliva, and within a few seconds, I could no longer tell whose moisture was whose.
He found my clit in good time and began concentrating his focus on it. He would lightly tug on it with his lips, running the tip of his tongue along it as he pulled, like he was literally feasting on me. The sensation was nearly too much for me to handle. No man had ever given me the kind of oral pleasure that I was receiving at that moment.
My body was trembling, almost uncontrollably. His hands were traveling; usually they remained close to his mouth, but at times, his wet fingers would find their way to my nipples and breasts.
At some point, after only about four minutes, I had reached my climax and achieved an easy orgasm. I couldn’t savor it because his mouth and tongue didn’t stop working. Despite my louder and more frequent moaning, he remained determined to show off his skills as much as possible. I barely had the strength to keep a hand behind his head.
He rolled his tongue up and thrust it deep inside of me, crudely but effectively fucking me. He rubbed my clit with his thumb as he ate me out, and I was so caught up in the moment that I didn’t even know what to do.
I went almost limp on the couch with his head between my legs. My chest heaved with every moaning breath. My head was back, with my forehead almost pressed against the back of the couch and my eyes rolled back.
He pulled his tongue out and began licking my clit again. This time, he put two of his fingers inside of me while he licked me. My toes curled, and my legs were wrapped around his upper half, tightly constricting him to my glistening sex. I didn’t want him to stop, but the longer I felt his thick fingers inside me, the more I wanted his longer, thicker appendage to penetrate me and give me another orgasm.
I wanted to tell him to stop, but I could barely form words. I moved his head from my lap by lightly rotating my hips away from him, and our eyes met again. We were both panting and sweating. I was ready to take his cock again, but I had yet to satiate my hunger.
“Sit…” I said to him.
I stood up clumsily, barely able to keep myself up. I rubbed my fingers down my body, feeling how numb I had become.
He took my spot on the couch and I took off his pants, taking his boxers along with them. He was hard, but not fully aroused. I was ready to know what it would feel like to have him grow inside of my mouth.
I took him in my hand, giving him a few strokes before leaning my body into him, my breasts resting near his balls, and my lips eager to please him. He pulled out a condom and placed it beside him.
“Don’t cum yet,” I said quietly. “I want to build you up.”
“Mmm… won’t have to wait long for that,” he laughed.
I stuck out my tongue, flicking it in the air near the tip of his cock. Just the idea of me giving him oral sex was enough to make him grow harder for me.
I licked up his shaft, closing my mouth over his tip, and sucking lightly on him. He put his hand behind my head, lightly tugging on my hair. I had only gotten about four inches of him down my throat before he actually stomped his feet on the floor.
“Hannah, you’re gonna make me cum!” he grunted.
I took him out of my mouth and ran my tongue along his shaft. “I said don’t cum yet. What’s the matter? Never had your dick sucked before?”
“I sure have, but not like that,” he breathed. “I want to fill your mouth, baby.”
I grinned, kissing his dick before opening the condom wrapper and sliding the condom onto his mighty girth.
“Lie down…” I said.
He obeyed happily. I climbed onto his lap, preparing to take the lead for the first time in our arrangement.
The initial penetration was enough to knock the wind out of me, giving me a shot of euphoria when his cock first pierced me. I could feel him as he went up and down my wet walls, covering nearly every inch. I rode him slowly, making sure my body was accustomed enough to his size.
Soon, I was grinding fast and hard on his dick, testing the limits of his stamina and will to ejaculate. He would sometimes play with my breasts as they went towards his face and sometimes he would keep his hands rested firmly on my ass, occasionally smacking it, pulling a loud moan from me whenever his mighty hand made contact.
I thought he was going to cum, so I leaned forward, slowing down my thrusts.
To my surprise, he turned the tables on me. He lifted me just enough so that he could sit up, never detaching me from his shimmering member. He sat back against the couch, me still in his lap… only now, we were facing each other. Our bodies were as close together as they had ever been. His firm chest was pressed into mine. This position was going to require both of our efforts.
We kissed each other, slowly at first to get back into the rhythm. But soon, as the kissing intensified, we began to thrust into each other, bringing each other closer and closer to the brink. The new position proved effective for both of us because the moment was over in less than a minute. As he neared his point, his thrusting grew more aggressive, which in turn, made me powerless to stop my orgasm from coming.
I stayed in his lap, and our eyes stayed on each other’s sweaty, perfect bodies. I didn’t want him to leave me because I wanted the pleasure to continue.
And continue we did. We performed in that position once more that night and twice again that following weekend—along with several other colorful positions we had yet to try. I never once thought about work, Jared, or anything that was bothering me during that whole weekend.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Sawyer
Whenever people talked about “falling in love,” I typically found it nauseating and absurd. I wasn’t emotionless or cold. I loved my family and many of my friends. I loved certain foods. I loved my Camaro and my bike almost like they were people.
The concept of “falling in love” just never made much sense to me. When hearing that phrase, I often likened it to a sickness—“falling ill.” When people would describe how they felt when falling in love, it even sounded like they were becoming sick: many aspects of their personalities changed, their behaviors morphed, and oftentimes, even the way they spoke began to change after “falling in love.”
My parents never once said around me that they had fallen in love. They simply said that they loved each other and that they loved me. I didn’t think good things had to be complex. Being “in love” was supposedly one of the best feelings a person could ever experience, but everything about it seemed incredibly unappealing. Of course, being in love meant that you were faithful to only one person sexually.
I pondered whether I was actually “in lust” with Hannah. Sometimes, there were girls who I would hook up with more than once, but those times were rare, and it was usually because of convenience. I knew that there were a large number of girls who were willing to give me release with no effort on my part whatsoever, and I loved it. The fact that I wanted there to be a significant effort made on both my part and Hannah’s made me realize just how differently I viewed her, and I came to a bittersweet conclusion.
Hannah was the best I had ever had.
It was bittersweet, because on the one hand, I had this woman who was giving me spectacular, mind-alter
ing sex every day of the week, and it felt amazing… but on the other hand, I worried that I was never going to find another one who could do me like Hannah. I was never searching for “the best sex,” but I knew that I had found it. The way that married friends of mine had said, “When you know, you know” regarding finding their true love, I knew that no woman could top Hannah, and she and I had no place to go but up. There was still so much we hadn’t tried together. I wasn’t close to done yet.
I wanted to deduce whether or not I was falling in love, falling in lust, or simply over-thinking everything. I timed my break at work on Monday to coincide with Dave’s. Dave was always vocal about love, vocal enough that I equated it to preachy. But this time, I actually wanted to hear what he had to say.
I sat down next to him in our break room. We were both eating cold sandwiches while wishing for hot ones.
“How did you know… that you were in love with your wife?” I asked Dave.
He stared at me for a few seconds before continuing to chew his bite of cold sandwich. He cleared his throat.
“I don’t get what you mean.”
“You’re in love with Stephanie, right?” I went.
“Yes…” he said suspiciously.
“Well… when did you know you were in love with her? How did you fall in love with her? Was it something she did? Something she said?”
Immediately, Dave’s face relaxed. He seemed to be holding back a smile. “What’s got you asking me that?” he wondered.
“I’m just curious,” I said. “I just want to know.”
“Research?” he asked.
“Something like that,” I answered.
“Well, you know, Sawyer, come to think of it, I’m not real sure what ‘made me’ fall in love with Stephanie. I just knew that I was. That’s when I knew I had to ask her to marry me.”
“Yeah, but…” I said, agitated, “how did you know? You didn’t just wake up one day and ‘know’ that you were in love. That’s not how it works.”
