by Penny Wylder
“I want you to take me in every way possible,” I heard myself saying. I didn’t even know it myself until I said it out loud, until I admitted it. “I want you to claim me, take your pleasure from me.”
He leaned in to feather a kiss along the side of my neck, so light that it made me shiver all over again, this time from desire, from wanting more, more, more. He always did that to me. Left me wanting. “You are a natural at this. It’s unbelievable, how perfect you are…” His hands traced the air in front of me, like he was forcing himself to hold back, not to touch me yet.
I smiled at him, and for a moment, he broke character. Wrapped one hand around the back of my neck and pulled me against him for a slow, deep kiss.
Then we broke apart again, and he was back in the character of the poker winner, the man who owned me now, for this next hour.
“Go into the living room and kneel on the carpet,” he told me. He didn’t need to explain which one. I could guess he mean the fuzzy one, almost a shag carpet. Comfortable enough that it wouldn’t hurt to kneel on.
I went in and dropped to my knees, turning to look over my shoulder at him. I expected him to come and stand before me, have me lick our combined cum off his cock, clean him while he got hard again. But he was on the other side of the room, digging through the kitchen.
“All fours,” he added to me, and I bent forward onto all fours, a pulse of desire running through me.
Then he was back, kneeling behind me, and I felt his cock trace between my thighs, trailing through our juices, soaking up what ran down my legs. He was already starting to grow hard again, thick with desire.
“I’m going to fuck your tight little virgin ass, Clove.”
I swallowed hard and felt myself nodding. His hands traced my ass cheeks. Spread them slowly, and when one finger dipped between my cheeks, I gasped, because his finger was wet, slick with lube.
“But first, I’m going to finger you. I’m going to stretch you slowly until you’re ready for my fat cock.”
My mouth parted as his finger circled the entrance to my ass, pressing against the opening.
“Tell me how this feels,” Zayne added. “I want to hear it all from you. Every sensation.”
“The lube is cold,” I murmured. “Starting to get hotter…”
In the shower, remembering this, I slide my finger between my pussy lips and begin to move it faster, pressing against the entrance of my pussy.
“Your finger feels thick, hard.” He pushed against my ass, and I gasped faintly as the pressure built. “It hurts, it feels strained…”
“That will pass when I’m deep enough inside you,” he promised.
His finger pushed past my opening with a popping sensation and slid half an inch into my ass.
“Fuck,” I gasped between gritted teeth.
“Tell me,” he commanded, and I could feel the hard press of his cock, growing harder with every moment, as he pushed his finger deeper still.
“It… You feel…” I shook my head.
“Relax, Clove. Breathe.”
I forced myself to let my muscles go, to sink back against him. His finger slid deeper, probing the depths of my ass. He curled it inside me, and the pressure increased, but with it, something else. A deep, pleasant, filled sensation. “It feels like you’re deeper inside me than you’ve ever been,” I murmured, trying to describe it. “As though you’re claiming the deepest parts of me.”
He leaned down, so his mouth was close beside my cheek, his breath hot against my ear. “Because I am, Clove. I’m taking all of you tonight.”
Another pleasant quiver raced through me, and I arched my back as he drew his finger back, then pressed it deeper again. It wasn’t like being fucked in the pussy. It felt more intense, less sheer pleasure and more pleasant ache. When he drew his finger out of me, I gasped in protest. But he was only adding more lube, and then pressing his finger into me again, joined by a second one this time. I moaned out loud when he pushed the second finger into me, knuckle-deep.
“You love feeling my fingers in your ass, don’t you, my little slut?” He grinned, turned to lick and suck at my neck, and I arched my neck to the side to let him, to give him access to whatever part of me he wanted.
In the shower, I push two fingers into my pussy, rock against the palm of my hand until it grinds against my clit, and lean on the shower wall for support as I finger-fuck myself, remembering Zayne’s possessive growl of pleasure as he pushed his fingers into my ass, claimed every inch of me for his own.
“Fuck, Zayne,” I gasped, and that turned into a louder cry of protest as he pulled those fingers out of me. But the protest didn’t last long, because a moment later, I felt the head of his cock pressed against my entrance, already wrapped in a condom, harder than ever, and doused in a healthy helping of the cool lube.
This time, when he pushed inside me, I couldn’t help crying out loud. He was thicker than his fingers, and harder, the steel at the core of his shaft intense and thick with pressure as he inched his cock into me. He moved slowly, a few centimeters at a time, letting me adjust to his width the whole time. But with each inch deeper he moved, the stretch increased, and so did the pleasure. When his balls touched my pussy lips, and his hips ground into mine and he’d fully entered my ass, I felt fuller than I ever had in my life. I felt stuffed to the brim, ready to burst, speared on his length, and I couldn’t get enough of it. I wriggled back against him, ground my hips into his as I groaned, unable to articulate the pleasure anymore, unable to explain anything, because all I knew was that I wanted more of this, more of him.
“Fuck, you feel amazing, Clove,” he murmured, the character broken. I looked over my shoulder and he kissed me, deep, probing, his tongue exploring my mouth the way his cock explored my ass.
“Take me,” I gasped when we parted, and he did. He slid back out of me, then pushed back in, slow at first, rocking gently against me to let my ass adjust to the sensation, grow used to his cock probing deep inside me. Finally, he worked his way up to fucking my ass fully, and I leaned forward against the carpet, braced on my forearms, my face buried in the rug as I cried out. I was so loud it barely muffled me, but Zayne was just as loud, groaning as he slammed into me, losing control, his hands wrapped tight around my hips as he fucked me so hard I knew I wouldn’t be able to walk straight the next day.
I still couldn’t. If I clenched my ass now, I could feel him inside me, the memory of his cock inside my ass. I did it again, felt that bone-deep ache even as I continued to fuck myself with my fingers, leaning into the hot stream of water.
I come hard, gasping to myself in the shower, letting the pleasure wash through me. I hope on its way through it will wash away some of these memories, stop letting them control me, so I can focus and ask Zayne everything I need to know tonight, instead of just wanting to jump his bones the second I see him again.
I finish and wash myself off, though I still don’t feel clean by the time I climb out of the shower again. I think it will be hard to feel clean again, not for a long time. Not until I can get all of these dirty memories of the weekend out of my head. Which at the moment feels like it might be never. How could I forget the hottest weekend of my life?
I dress in jeans and a blouse—casual but not totally lazy. I still want to look hot. Mostly because I want him to regret what he’s missing out on. But still.
My doorbell rings at 10:02pm. Got to give him that, he’s prompt.
I answer it and freeze on the threshold, stunned by the size of the bouquet he’s holding.
“Zayne…” I start, but he’s already handing it to me. It’s a mixed bouquet, made of white flowers dotted here and there with colorful roses, a mix like I’ve never seen before. It smells amazing, and the moment I accept the vase, my whole apartment seems to brighten with the color of the flowers. Still. That’s just one small gesture.
But I can’t deny that it loosens the tight knot in my chest somewhat.
“Come in,” I call over my shoulder
with a sigh as I set the vase down on my kitchen counter. The jerk is winning me over already and I’ll bet he knows it, cocky bastard. I keep my gaze on the flowers as he shuts the door behind him.
“Clove, I just want to say how sorry I am for all of this. You were right.”
I turn to look at him now, and am surprised to find his eyes over-bright, fixed on mine with an expression of pleading in them.
“I should have told you about all of this from the start. I should have let you know it was a possibility. And I definitely shouldn’t have asked you for that selfie, not when I knew this could happen. It’s just, it’s been years since this has happened, so I thought it was over, I thought we were done with this goddamn dance now.”
“Dance?” I raise an eyebrow.
He shakes his head. “Something I used to say with… With her.” He grimaces. “You were right about that too. I should have just told you the truth when you asked me, in the café earlier today. I just… I didn’t want to admit to it. I thought you’d judge me, especially since…” He shakes his head again, harder. “No. No more excuses.” He swallows hard, with what looks like real effort, and meets my eye again. “Remember when you asked me why I’m still single?”
I nod. Of course I do. “You acted really strange about it,” I point out.
He laughs faintly, with no real humor behind it. “Well, because it’s a really strange situation. I was… I was dating someone a few years ago. We were together for three years. At first I was really into her, she seemed so attentive, so nice and caring. But things got… Strange. The longer it went on, the more red flags popped up. I realized that things weren’t working out, and I tried to end it.”
“Tried?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Well. I did end it. Two and a half years ago. But she didn’t… She didn’t accept it.”
“What do you mean?” I lean against the counter. The scent of the flowers catches in my nose again, and I sigh faintly, distracted by the pleasant smell.
“She started following me everywhere. To my old job, to home. Any time I went out with anyone else, even just friends, she’d get their phone numbers and call them, harass them, try to get them to tell her who I was with and what I was doing. She was even worse to anyone I was dating. After the first few dates, when she stole the girls’ phone numbers and wrote them on bathroom walls, I cut off all contact with her. Changed my phone number, left my old job, hell, I even moved.”
My eyebrows rise, if possible, even higher. “You changed jobs and moved because of her?”
“Not exactly because of her, really. I’d been thinking of making changes in my life. I was dragging my feet before, delaying because it scared me. Her creepy behavior just gave me the final push I needed to get out of my routine and change things up. But…” He sighs and gazes at the flowers with a forlorn expression.
“But?” I prompt, when he doesn’t speak again for a long moment.
“She found me.”
“Here?” My mouth drops open. No wonder he’s still single, if this is what he thinks women are like. If this is what he’s had to deal with in his life already.
He’s nodding, a grimace on his face. “She works in tech, so stalking me, finding where I worked and lived, then trying to find whoever I was dating, it’s her professional skillset. The first few dates I went on after we broke up, she pulled this exact stunt. Stole photos of the girls—some of them nudes, some of them just regular pictures that she edited and Photoshopped to look like the girls were naked. She posted them everywhere, harassed the women, started fake websites like she did with yours.” Zayne groans and runs a hand through his hair. “I had to file a restraining order. We got everything set down legally. After that, I hadn’t heard a thing from her. It’s been over a year since she did this to anybody, and I’ve been on a few dates since then. I figured the danger had passed. She hasn’t tried to ruin any other girls’ lives in a year, so I didn’t even think to warn you…”
I groan and press my fingers to my temples, massaging. “Shit, Zayne. I’m so sorry that you had to deal with that.”
“No. I’m sorry.” He catches my wrists. Draws my hands away from my forehead to fold them in his instead. “You shouldn’t have to pay for my past mistakes. You shouldn’t be suffering for my problems.”
“You shouldn’t either,” I counter, my lower lip trembling. “I can’t imagine what all of that was like…”
He laughs faintly, bitterly. “That wasn’t even the tip of the iceberg. God, there was the time she set my car on fire…”
“She what?”
“The time she tried to poke holes in all the condoms, back when we were still together—”
“Fuck, Zayne.”
“I’m sorry, Clove. I’m a mess. I’m messed up, after all of that. I should have told you, but it was so…” He shuts his eyes. I fight the urge to kiss him, to kiss away the pain that’s written so obviously across his face. “Embarrassing, really. And just, an old wound I hate reopening. I didn’t know how to explain, how to talk about it. And I don’t know why she would do this now, why she would come back to try and hurt you.”
I give in to the urge and press a faint kiss to the corner of his mouth. “It’s okay. I mean, it’s not okay that you didn’t tell me the truth, but I understand why you hesitated.”
He opens his eyes to meet mine. Runs a hand through my hair, smoothing it back from my forehead. “I should have trusted you.”
“We don’t know one another that well yet,” I point out.
He shakes his head so hard his hair flops across his forehead, almost into his eyes too. “We do, Clove. I know it’s crazy, I know we’ve only been talking like this for a few days, only seeing each other up close for that long, but it feels like I’ve known you forever already. It feels like this is right, this is where we’re meant to wind up.”
I can feel myself nodding, agreeing. “That’s why it hurt when you didn’t tell me about your ex. When I found out someone had leaked photos like this before around you…”
“I know. I get it, Clove, really. And I never meant to hurt you. I swear I won’t again.”
I can hear myself laughing. “All this from a stupid dating app.”
He laughs, too. “You know, much as I’m glad it helped us find one another…” He smooths my hair back again, gazes into my eyes. “I’m deleting that app tonight. I don’t need it anymore.”
My breath catches in my throat. “Me too,” I hear myself whispering.
His smile widens. But then it catches, snags, sags a little. “I just don’t want to hurt you, to hurt your career, over this mistake.”
“You were right too,” I counter, shaking my head now. “We’ll figure this out. Especially now that we know who’s behind this.”
“Clove, I don’t know what to say…”
“Then don’t,” I suggest. Then his lips are on mine, and I don’t need another apology. This is explanation enough. I collide with him, let my head fall to one side and my mouth part as his lips work against mine and his tongue slips between my lips to tangle with my own. He knows me already, after just three days. Knows how to kiss me, how to turn his head at the right moment to deepen that kiss, and how to wrap his arms around my waist and lift me against him so that I can forget everything else in the world except for the feeling of his arms around me.
When he sets me back on my feet, we’re both smiling faintly, despite the knot of worry still buried deep in my stomach. Somehow, I still need to find a way to solve this. But that feels possible here, wrapped safely in Zayne’s arms. With him by my side, we can manage anything.
He kisses my forehead lightly. “Can I take this as a sign that we’re okay again?” he murmurs softly.
“As long as you promise you’re not hiding any other dark skeletons in your closet from me,” I reply.
He laughs. “My closet is open wide. You can have a look anytime you want.”
“What if I’d rather steal a peek under your clothes instead?” I counter
with a raised eyebrow.
His grin deepens. “Hmm. That could also be arranged. But first, I’m afraid there’s something else I really need to do.”
“Oh? And what might that be?”
Without responding, he steps back and catches the hem of my shirt. In one smooth motion, he pulls it up and over my head and drops it to the floor beside us. “I’m very hungry, Ms. Walker. I need to eat something. Preferably you.”
I laugh, which turns into a shiver as he catches me in a tight grip and lifts me onto the kitchen counter. He spreads my legs and starts the slow process of peeling my jeans off. I lean back, my head grazing the flowers that sit in the vase beside me, perfuming the air. I breathe in the scent deeply, sigh it out again as he yanks my jeans off my legs and tosses them aside with my blouse.
He kisses his way back up the inside of my leg, from my ankle up to my knee, then past it, along my inner thigh.
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, Clove,” he murmurs as he works his way up my body. “Every minute of the day, all day.”
I think about the shower, my fantasies. My inability to force him out of my head, even when I was mad at him, even when I thought he did this, or thought he was lying to me. He was, I guess, but I understand his reasons.
“I can’t stop thinking about you either,” I whisper.
“I get hard every time I remember how gorgeous your body is, how beautiful you look spread out before me like this…” He leans in to lick his tongue across my mound for emphasis, and I gasp, biting down on my lip.
“I have to touch myself whenever I think about what you did to me this weekend,” I admit, my voice low, soft. “When I think about that hour when you commanded me…”
“Or when I think about the way you moaned so loud and desperately, with my cock inside your ass…” He stands, so I can see the hard bulge in his pants, the way he strains for me.
“Nobody has ever made me come the way you do, Zayne,” I admit.
He smiles. “Nobody has ever made me want to fuck them for hours and hours the way you do…” He trails his finger up my slit, through the wet juices already gathering there, and then pops it straight into his mouth, licking my juices with a hungry glow in his eyes.
