Never Again

by Lilliana Anderson

  “Can you fix it?” I asked, my voice breathy because I was turned on from his touch.

  “Of course.” I felt his hands wrap around either side of the seam and pull. The slider popped and shot off into the room somewhere. I gasped as the fabric released. But he didn’t stop there, he kept on pulling, the tearing of fabric, punctuating the quiet of the room as the dress fell from my body.

  “That was one of my favourite dresses,” I whispered as his fingers slid beneath the band of my bra and released the clasp.

  He pressed his teeth against my shoulder. “I’ll buy you one with a working zip.”

  Spinning me in his arms, he palmed my breasts. “Fuck, I love these.”

  I grinned. “So you keep telling me.”

  His eyes met mine, one side of his mouth curved upward. “I love you more though.”

  I wrapped my arms around his neck. “I like hearing you say that,” I whispered against his mouth, swimming in need as his tongue sought entry, and his lips sealed over mine. Lifting my legs, I wrapped my thighs around his waist crossing my legs at the ankles.

  Grabbing my arse, he stepped back and sat on the bed, making it so his hard cock was pressing against my core. I rocked my hips over his length, taking control of the kiss from my advantageous position.

  Wanting skin against skin, I worked at the buttons on his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders until all I could feel was hard skin. “Have I told you how much I love your chest?” I whispered, pushing him back on the bed so I was straddling his waist.

  “I recall something about delectable abs.” He smiled, his hands resting against my hips.

  Lowering down, I ran my tongue down the line between his pecs. “The whole thing is delectable.”

  Sliding off his lap, I lowered myself to the floor, resting on my knees in front of him. With my bottom lip pulled between my teeth, I smiled up at him and slid his belt open before working on his button and fly. “Lift,” I instructed, holding the waist then pulling his pants and boxers down. His cock sprang free, standing proudly before me, the tip of it glistening. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a beautiful cock?” I asked, taking it in my hands and stroking its length.

  He groaned softly, resting on his elbows so he could watch me. “No one that matters.”

  I grinned. “Good answer.”

  Flicking my tongue across the tip, I tasted his salt, could smell his skin. My desire pooled between my legs as I looked up and met his eyes, so dark and wanting.

  “Suck it,” he commanded.

  Loving the way he took control, I slid my lips over his smooth head, using my tongue to tease the sensitive ridge. He hissed through his teeth, his fingers spearing into my hair and gripping from the roots. “Deeper.”

  With one hand wrapped around his base, I drew him deeper into my mouth, taking his mass as far as I possibly could. His hips moved as he began to lose himself, his other hand gripping my hair as he pushed a little deeper, fucked a little harder. My eyes watered and the roots of my hair stung, but the feeling of him coming undone in my mouth, the sounds of him hissing and trying to hold on was enough to drive me forward, sucking a little harder, swallowing a little deeper.

  “Fuck, Cora,” he hissed, his head dropping back. “I’m going to come in your mouth if you don’t stop.”

  I didn’t want to stop. I wrapped my free hand around his wrist and held on tight, keeping my head bobbing back and forth as he lay back and groaned. “Fuck.” A spurt of hot cum erupted from his tip, and I swallowed it down, pumping my hand up and down his length until I’d milked him dry. Slowly, he relaxed his fingers, releasing my hair, the ache of his grip throbbing gently. “Get the fuck up here,” he demanded, reaching down and lifting me until I was beside him on the bed.

  He sat back and pulled my panties down my legs and tossed them over his shoulder. Then he climbed over me, his hands wrapping around my wrists, pinning me down. His knees nudged open the space between my thighs. “I told myself I was going to be gentle with you tonight,” he whispered, running his mouth across my cheek. “Told myself that tonight was special and we should be making love. But all I want to do is hold you down and fuck you until you bruise.”

  I gasped and opened my thighs even wider.

  “You’d like that, would you? You like it hard?”

  “I love it hard.”

  Adjusting his hips, he aligned himself with my opening, driving inside until our pelvic bones collided. Then he pulled back and did it again, each thrust a little deeper, a little harder, a little faster. I called out, my fists balled as he pressed my wrists into the mattress. Not being able to touch him as I watched his body enter mine was sweet torture. I could do nothing but surrender and moan.

  “Bran.” I spoke his name as my climax built, the only word I was capable of saying when he filled me so completely.

  Releasing my wrists, his hands went to my hips as he tucked his knees beneath him, lifting me off the bed so his cock was hitting my insides at an angle that made my eyes lose focus and a guttural moan escape my throat.

  “Ohhh.”

  “That’s it, baby,” he gasped, out of breath from his ferocious pumping. “Let it go. Squeeze my cock while you come.”

  “Ohhh.” It was all I could say. The intensity of my burgeoning orgasm meant that my mind and my mouth could not connect.

  “Let go,” he urged, thrusting once more. Then it happened, my hands slapped down against his thighs and my fingernails bit into flesh as my entire body rocked, a long, low moan rolling out of my depths as he held me tight against his base, his cock pulsing within my walls.

  The moment I could breathe, my hands went to my head and I let out a gasp. “Holy shit.”

  “Good?” He grinned, placing his hand on my chest then dragging it lightly down my body.

  “Amazing.”

  Keeping himself inside me, he leaned down and touched his mouth to mine. “I love you, baby. Happy birthday.”

  Wrapping my arms around his shoulders, I whispered in return. “I love you, too.” Then he kissed me, slow, gentle, controlled, the intensity of his emotion clear with each gentle stroke of his tongue. His hips shifted, his length languidly stroking at my insides, showing me the gentle love he’d intended. Each tender movement, every delicate touch, felt like it lit a spark on the ends of my nerves that travelled down and set my soul on fire. I loved him, knew that there was no living without him. He’d come into my life and taken over so completely, so wonderfully, that he’d completed me and made me whole. I was a better woman when I was with him.

  We took our time, each deliberate movement held a promise of our future. When we finally reached our climax, the emotion of it brought tears to my eyes. Gasping for air, I held on tight, breathing him in, knowing that in him, I’d found my forever. Once everything was out in the open, I knew we’d still make it.

  33

  “I kind of like having him come in to work with us,” Olivia mused, standing to the side with me while Bran lined up for our coffee.

  “I quite like it too,” I replied, having thoroughly enjoyed having his arms wrapped around me all morning. It was nice getting ready for work together and not having to arrive separately. After all the declarations of love the night before, Bran had decided that he didn’t want to wait until after exams; he would talk to Adrian today. I was both nervous and excited by the prospect, because it meant with everything in the open, Jack couldn’t hurt us. I just hoped I’d still have a job at the end of the day. But if it came down to it, I was willing to make the sacrifice and find a job in the private sector instead. Once Adrian knew, I felt we could truly move forward, and to do that, absolutely everything needed to be laid out on the table. We both deserved the truth and had earned that respect. Everything would be perfect after that.

  Perfect. My eyes drank him in. The giant man who was all mine. I loved him. He loved me. I felt like I could burst.

  “Well, the PDA is a little over the top,” Olivia pointed out. “And we can’t goss
ip quite as much. But, I do enjoy a man who fetches my coffee in the morning.”

  “Even though it’s decaf?” I asked, earning me an eye-roll because she’d given up alcohol, coffee and cigarettes for the sake of the baby.

  “Yes, even though it’s—oh shit.” Her eyes grew as she stared over my shoulder.

  “What?” I asked, about to turn around when a voice I despised entered my ears.

  “Happy birthday for yesterday, Cor.”

  Jack.

  Fuck.

  This is not happening. Not now. Not yet.

  I touched my hand against my forehead and glanced over at Bran, who was thankfully busy paying for the coffee. This was not a meeting I wanted to happen before this day was through. I knew that if Bran found out about Jack this way, he’d feel like he was part of an affair. He would hate that. He would hate me for that. I couldn’t let that happen.

  My chest went tight as panic set in. I needed to get Jack out of there. I had no idea if he’d spotted Bran, and I hoped to God he hadn’t come here looking to cause a scene.

  “Thank you, Jack,” I replied, facing him with a saccharine smile on my face, my heart beating wildly as my mind rushed to find a way to avoid the imminent catastrophe. “But we’re right outside the Supreme Court here, do you think you can leave so I don’t get accused of breaking your intervention order?”

  “I’ll tell them it was me,” he argued.

  “That fact doesn’t matter to the courts, Jack,” Olivia inserted. “You put the order in place, and from what I’ve heard, you keep breaking it and putting Cora in further risk of losing her legal license entirely. If you care about her at all, you’ll turn around and walk away right now. In fact”—she dug around in her bag and pulled out her phone—“I’m going to record this entire conversation so there’s proof of anything you say here.”

  “Recordings aren’t admissible,” he countered.

  “They are if all parties are aware they’re being recorded.” She held her phone out, showing the voice recorder function to prove her point.

  Jack didn’t seem fazed. “I can wish my wife a happy birthday if I want to, Olivia. Besides, I came here to give her a gift.” Turning his attention back to me, he held up a large mustard-coloured envelope.

  “What is this?” I asked, snatching it from his hand and tearing it open. I half expected it to be a summons of some sort, but you couldn’t serve those yourself or they were invalid. I was at a loss.

  He waited in front of me, a shit-eating grin on his face as he watched for my reaction. When I saw the words written in front of me, I almost couldn’t believe it. “You had the order revoked?”

  “There’s no danger in talking to me anymore.” He held out his hands, a supplicating gesture. “I’m a changed man, Cor. I’d do anything for you.” Reaching up, he brushed the backs of his knuckles along my cheek. The movement was too intimate and caused me to flinch away while at the same time, Jack’s hand was caught mid-air. The world felt as though it was moving in slow motion. Olivia’s eyes went wide and she took a step back, grabbing my wrist to pull me along with her. At the same time, I turned, my stomach souring with the knowledge that something so horribly dreadful was playing out beside me.

  “She’s not yours to touch,” Bran growled, his eyes dark and stormy as he stood over Jack.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  “Bran,” I called out, wanting him to turn his attention to me so I could explain. But, the moment Jack’s lips curved into a smile, my head started moving—shaking—because I knew what was about to happen.

  And I couldn’t stop it.

  My boyfriend was about to meet my husband.

  No no no no no no.

  “Not sure who you think you are, mate, but since I’m her husband, I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what I’m allowed to do.”

  Bran shifted backward, the words tipping him off centre like a hard kick in the gut. His eyes spoke volumes as they connected with mine. I could see hurt and betrayal. “Your husband?” The question left his mouth through gritted teeth.

  Pleading with my eyes for him to understand, I opened my mouth to answer, to explain to him what was going on. But the words I needed didn’t make it out of my throat when Jack took the opportunity to dig the heel in a little deeper.

  “That’s right, kid. You’re nothing but her plaything on the side. Run along so the grownups can chat.”

  For a split second, Bran looked crushed, then a hurricane of fury stormed within his eyes, twisting his expression.

  Oh God. “Bran! No!” I reached out futilely as his arm cocked back and his tightly coiled fist collided with the side of Jack’s head, dropping him immediately.

  “Fuck,” Bran yelled, picking Jack up and punching him again. His cheek split open and blood poured from the wound.

  “Shit!” I dropped to my knees beside Jack, checking he was still breathing before I turned my attention back to Bran. “Are you insane?” He wasn’t even there. “Bran! Where did he go?” I asked, my eyes darting around.

  “He went that way,” Olivia said, pointing up the street. I moved to run but stopped and looked back at Jack moaning on the ground.

  “Should we call an ambulance?” I kind of had a duty of care to make sure he was OK.

  Olivia pushed my shoulder. “Go after him,” she urged. “I’ll make sure Jack-Arse is OK.”

  “Thank you,” I gasped, turning tail to run down the street after Bran. Due to his size, he wasn’t hard to spot. But he was walking so fast, and running in heels wasn’t the easiest thing to do. When he turned the corner, I almost lost him, but was thankful when a set of lights slowed his pace as he waited for the pedestrian walk sign to stop the peak-hour traffic.

  “Bran. Wait. Please.” I sucked in air between words—I wasn’t fit enough to be running through the streets—my hand gripping the back of his arm.

  He shook my hand free, giving me a cold stare. “I don’t date married women.” Then the light changed and he crossed with the crowd, weaving through people to place obstacles between us.

  Following as close as I could, I bumped into bodies and tripped over uneven pavement until I fell into step beside him again.

  “You don’t understand. We’re not together anymore. I’m getting a divorce.”

  He didn’t slow his step at all, causing me to jog in order to keep up. “Is he aware of that?”

  “Yes! We’ve been over for months.”

  He stopped and whirled around to face me. “Then why the fuck am I finding out about him when he’s touching your face like he’s about to fucking kiss you?”

  “I wasn’t going to let him,” I shot back.

  “He shouldn’t be touching you. There shouldn’t be a fucking husband at all, Cora,” he bellowed. “I don’t share. Another man thinking he has the fucking right to touch the skin that I claimed as mine is a huge fucking problem.”

  He moved to storm off, but I grabbed his arm with both hands and held on for dear life. “Please, Bran. Just listen to me. It’s a misunderstanding we can sort out. Let’s go somewhere and talk.”

  “A misunderstanding?” There was a slight sneer pulling at the corner of his mouth, making me uncomfortable.

  “Yes!”

  He lowered his face so it was just above mine, almost too close for me to be able to focus on his features. “Are you married, Cora?”

  “I’m separated.”

  “It’s a yes or no question.”

  “I’m separated.”

  “Yes, or no.”

  Looking up at him, my eyes burned as I clenched my jaw tight and forced out the answer he wanted. “Yes.”

  “Then I understand completely.”

  When he took one step away from me, blind panic gripped my heart and I launched myself in his direction, wrapping my entire body around his middle. Had I been in my right mind, I’d have seen it for the ridiculous and childishly desperate move it was, but I had this horrible feeling that if I let him walk away, I may never see him again.
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  “Let go, Cora,” he said, his voice calm but hard as he stood in place.

  I shook my head, my face pressed against his broad back. “Not until you talk to me.”

  “There’s nothing to say.”

  “Maybe not for you, but I at least deserve the opportunity to explain.”

  I felt his chest fill then release. Then his hands wrapped around my forearms and he prised my grip loose. I fought against him, crying when I felt my grip loosen, yelling no when he held me at arm’s length.

  “Please,” I begged, crying openly, knowing that the passers-by probably saw me as a mad woman.

  His jaw ticked and his eyes stormed—like the sky before hail—as he glared at my pitiful form. Then his hand wrapped around my arm. With a grunt, he tugged me in the opposite direction and started walking with purposeful strides.

  “Where are we going?” I had a moment where I feared a repeat of the stripper performance and planted my feet.

  “You want to talk. Let’s talk,” he shot over his shoulder, pulling me under an awning and through a set of double glass doors. On the wall, the words, ‘Best Western Atlantis’. A hotel?

  Stalking toward the front desk, he pulled his wallet from his inside jacket pocket and flicked his credit card at the receptionist. “I need a room,” he grunted.

  The girl’s face creased with concern as her eyes moved to me, taking in my tear-stained face and the strong grip of his hand wrapped around my arm. “Are you all right, ma’am?”

  Straightening, I tried to look as calm as I could despite the state of my mind. “I’m fine. We just need a room, please.” I smiled to try and reassure her, but her wary eyes just moved between Bran and me.

  “Now,” Bran added.

  “Do you have a reservation?”

  “No. But any will do. We won’t be there for long.”

  “We don’t rent rooms by the hour, sir.”

  Bran took a calming breath then relaxed his grip on my arm. “I’m not asking for you to charge me for an hour, I’m simply asking for any room that’s available right now. I’ll pay for a week if that’s what you’d like. As long as you can give me a key so we can have a little privacy, I’ll pay you anything you want.”