by Selena Kitt
Then he says, “I’m not done with you, Nina,” his voice sounding closer to me.
I keep my eyes away from him the whole time I wait for the driver to arrive, straight through the door opening and me climbing out.
I flash the driver a smile before taking off toward my door, and I don’t look back once.
* * *
Brent calls me to make sure I’ve gotten in safely, then asks what I’m doing the next day.
I tell him I’m busy—best to give ourselves a little time to cool off, I think. Plus, I have plans with Bianca and I don’t want to have an impending date with Brent hanging over me while I hang out with her.
“How about Sunday?” he says. “I’d like to take you for a ride.”
I hear undercurrents to his voice, so why the hell am I about to agree to go out with him again? Clearly there’s not a friendly atmosphere to our meet-ups at all.
Fool me twice, shame on me.
I think about his proposition some more.
I need to keep my wits about me, and in very little time, Brent has me tripping over myself.
Time alone with him made me feel like I’d had a couple of Cosmos and Long Island Iced Teas; I couldn’t think straight.
But so far, I’ve done a pretty good job of remaining logical.
I still think it’s too early to tell him about Bianca because I really didn’t know what kind of man I’m dealing with, and meeting up with him should shed some light on that.
On the other hand, spending more time with him means I’ll be putting my ability to reason in danger.
Still, how could I possibly get to know Brent and find out what he’s made of if I don’t spend time with him? How will I ever know when or even if the time is right to tell him he’s a father?
I have to give him a chance to show me he isn’t a dick. Or just a dick.
“Okay,” I say, stopping myself right before mentioning having to find a babysitter again.
* * *
I’m not sure if I made things worse going a whole day without him, because once Sunday arrives, my eagerness to see him has heightened tremendously.
I even let him pick me up from home, though I make sure to meet him outside and instruct the babysitter to keep Bianca away from the window.
Brent shows up in his toy instead of the limo this time, so he wasn’t kidding about the joy ride.
We curve around mountains, fly down stretches of road that seem made for his sports car and its insane speeds.
“Aren’t you afraid you’ll get in trouble?” I ask at some point, thinking about a lurking traffic cop waiting to take down a speed demon.
“They won’t bother me,” he says with a confidence that leaves no room for doubt.
I decide to question his rule-breaking no longer.
Exhilaration fills me as we zoom along, watching stretches of ocean on scenic routes.
The exhilaration doesn’t abate until I realize he’s pulling up to a residential area—specifically to an estate fit for royalty.
I remember what he said about his fortune and realize it’s probably his own mansion.
Excitement fills me, and this time, fear comes along for the ride.
“What is this?” I say. “Where are we?”
“I want to show you my home, Nina.”
I try to make sense of the occasion.
Does this mean anything?
No, of course not—friends take friends home all the time! Where can you take a friend, if not home?
But something feels off—this isn’t a meaningless tour.
Or maybe I’m still so heady from our carefree drive that I’m still not thinking straight.
Once the gates open and he drives up a winding pathway to a set of garages, fear has grown a tiny bit more than the happy excitement of checking out a billionaire’s home.
Once the car is parked, he comes over to my side and helps me out, not letting go of my hand as we head inside.
I barely have time to take in the embellishments of his massive grounds before the gorgeousness of the home’s interior zaps away my words.
I must look a sight with my mouth hanging open as my eyes take in the sheer opulence before me—from the sparkling chandelier to the intricate designs on the curving staircase to the paintings on the walls.
I’m still trying to find my words when I feel his hand pull me toward the stairs then guide me up them.
“No elevator?” I say sarcastically, happy I didn’t end up saying something stupid like, “This is the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen. Can I stay?”
He gives me a small smile, but his face is still tightened with purpose, and it finally dawns on me what his intended destination is.
My heart beats rapidly as we get to the second floor then walk down a hall.
I miss what might have been decorating those walls or the ceiling because I’m in my head again, struck by what’s about to happen.
It seems inevitable—the fire between us has to be addressed, and I still don’t know what any of this means.
When we reach what I assume is the master bedroom, my mouth drops open again.
The square footage surpasses my whole apartment by far, and the size of the bed is really quite unnecessary.
The room is beautifully decorated in dark purple and pearlescent tones, and all other thoughts evaporate once Brent picks me up and deposits me on the bed.
His mouth is soon on mine, and he kisses me until all I can do is start helping him—and myself—out of our clothes.
We are both naked in record time, and his mouth starts blazing trails over my skin, sending tingles from my neck to my raging pussy, making me arch at the soft heat from his mouth tasting my chest and sucking my breasts, then tickling my stomach.
I am lost in helpless throes once he reaches my middle, and my inner thighs squeeze his head as his tongue laps at my hungry center.
I want to give him the same pleasure he’s giving me, but my body screams for more and soon, my mouth is begging too.
“Please, Brent,” I say when he brings me to the brink of orgasm with his tongue and lips, skimming my needy folds in a relentless tease.
I’m about to hold his head in place and fuck his face till I come when I feel him raise himself, and my eyes snap open to see him position himself over me, lining up the head of his cock with my desperate wet pussy.
Somehow, I find the sense to say, “Condom!” and his face transforms to a silent curse before he quickly retrieves one and slaps it on.
He climbs over me again and then plunges into me quickly—as if to ward off any more delays.
His hard cock parting me almost feels like the first time, and the shock of his entry makes me cry out.
He starts thrusting his cock into me with hard, desperate movements, smashing our pelvises together as he plunges deep into me without mercy.
My lips ache with his rough claim, yet my pussy still wants more.
As I start to match his thrusts to try to take him in deeper, he suddenly pulls all the way out of me and flips me onto my stomach.
Then he lifts my ass in the air, getting me on all fours, and before plunging deep into my hot wet cunt again, he says, “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do this?”
His large hands grab my ass cheeks as he rides me hard, balls slapping against my pussy lips as he pulls me to him with quick, hard thrusts.
His fingers make their way to my clit and he fondles my nub, working it with his thumb until I feel an orgasm start to build.
I can tell he’s not far from his own, and he works on bringing us there together, drilling into me while massaging my sensitive bud.
The combination of his thick, hard probing cock, his balls slapping against the folds of my pussy, and his finger working my needy clit makes me come so hard, I fully expect the sound of my loud climax to shatter some of his expensive vases.
While the double orgasm is washing over me, I feel his pelvis slap against my ass with a final hard
thrust, and he stays buried deep in me as his own orgasm takes over him.
I hear him cracking his toes.
I can feel our bodies pulsing against each other—my walls gripping his throbbing cock as it shoots cum.
“Shit,” I hear Brent say as he starts to pull out of my protesting pussy.
I don’t like his tone.
“You fucked it right off,” he says. “Hold still.”
What the hell is he talking about?
“Too tight,” he says, not clarifying a damned thing. “Somewhere between you squeezing the fuck out of my cock—no pun intended—we had a mishap.”
Suddenly I feel his fingers inside me and then feel him pull something out of me.
My head drops as I realize what it is: the condom.
“That doesn’t happen. Does it?” I say stupidly since, obviously, it just happened.
Did I mention I’m not all that experienced? I can still count with fingers left over how many times I’ve done this.
“It has never happened to me,” he says. “Sometimes it happens to guys who wear condoms too big for their dicks, which has never been my problem.”
Who’s he telling? It’s a wonder they even came in his size.
I stay in place while he continues to ponder the situation.
“It’s fucking ripped,” he says almost wondrously.
Either way, we’re obviously not protected.
“Nina, I don’t want you to worry about anything—I’m totally clean,” he says.
“Me too,” I say quickly.
Boy, if he only knew how much.
I wait for him to acknowledge the other risk, butt still in the air, but I just feel his hand start rubbing my ample cheeks.
I remember the dimples decorating them and start to flood with embarrassment.
Here I am, once again fully exposed to this man who could have any woman in the world he wants—scratch that, who has probably been privy to some of the best female bodies on the planet—with my lumps and rolls on display, having briefly forgotten how much I pale in comparison.
“Years,” Brent says, still apparently lost in his own world as he continues to fondle me. “My mind has been coming back to this delicious ass of yours for years. I’ve wanted to hold it, ride it, kiss it…” At that, he bends and kisses my ass cheek. “I have told you how beautiful you are, Nina, haven’t I? I wonder at how blind I was for so long. Thanks to your classmate, my eyes got a bit opened…”
He stops.
Beautiful intimate moment, meet can of worms.
Then again, this might be a good time to bring up the consequences of such a moment—the most opportune chance to say, “Oopsie, I could get pregnant. You know—like last time?”
But I can’t.
I can feel him looking at me, his gaze burning through the hair hanging over my face that I try to hide behind.
“Are you on anything?” he says, his voice now appropriately heavy.
“No,” I say, the word emerging as a whisper.
I want to see what’s on his face then—I want to see his initial reaction to the implications. I want his honest gut response, but I can’t bear to look at him.
Emotion is threatening to overwhelm me.
At some point, while he was slamming into me, it was like he dislodged a block, and the emotions I had been holding back came loose and started flooding me.
I can no longer ignore what I feel for him—what I’ve felt for him all along. The feeling never went away, no matter how many walls I built over it.
I’m scared of the devastation I’ll feel if he disappears again, the fact that he might never feel the same about me.
Sure, he said he loves my body, but so what? He just wants to fuck it; I’m only an easy lay to him, helpless to his charms.
To my utter horror, I feel tears begin to well in my eyes.
I finally collapse on his bed and try to hide them, but I do a terrible job of it since I’m now sobbing.
All I can think is, how could I have let this happen? Again?
Soon, I feel Brent’s body folding over mine as he wraps his muscular arms around me.
He kisses my neck, my cheek while I cry into my hands.
I know he’ll ask what’s wrong and that I need to come up with an answer, but I can’t really think—only feel.
“If anything happens, I’ll take care of it,” he says. “Your decision which way to go, but know I’m with you all the way, Nina; I won’t leave you behind again.”
His words only make me cry more.
* * *
I guess I fell right to sleep, because at some point, my eyes pop open, and I’m wondering where the hell I am until I register the soft covers over my body and the expanse of bed on both sides of me.
Ah yes—Brent’s mansion or castle or whatever the heck he calls this thing.
Then it dawns on me—the babysitter!
I only booked her for three hours—I figured there was no way I’d be out longer than that.
Holy hell. How long have I been out cold?
I look around for my phone.
“Shit, shit, shit…” I mumble as I search desperately for my belongings.
My clothes had been flung far and wide, and I can’t find my cell fast enough.
I realize I’m probably too frantic and missing the obvious.
“Your phone’s blowing up,” I suddenly hear Brent say, his voice low and sexy, reaching me from the frame of his bedroom door.
I turn toward him and he indicates the side of the nightstand with a nod of his head and a glance.
I follow his eyes to the lit screen of my phone, a call currently coming in.
“I’m guessing it’s not your boyfriend since you’re here with me,” he says as I answer the call.
I ignore him.
“Sabrina, I’m so sorry! I’ll be there in thirty,” I say.
I’m not sure if it’s a lie or not since I don’t know how far away we are from my home. All I know is that I need to leave here now.
“Brent, I’ve got to go; you have to take me home right away.”
I start to gather my clothes and throw them on.
“Is there a fire?” he asks, frowning as he watches me.
“No, I just…something came up. I forgot something I was supposed to do.”
His frown deepens, and I realize I didn’t quite make sense.
But I don’t really owe him an explanation, do I?
I’m pulling on my top when I say, “I just really have to go. We’ll talk more soon. Please get ready to take me.”
He raises his eyebrows at my order but starts getting dressed.
I try to think up a better explanation as we head to his car.
Brent
I don’t know what bug got up Nina’s delicious ass, but I’m about to find out.
She’s being dodgy, so I know it’s something important.
She doesn’t actually have a boyfriend she’s cheating on, is she?
Boy, it’s weird when the shoe’s on the other foot.
“What’s really going on, Nina?” I ask once we’re cruising along to her place.
My tone is more of a demand, and it suddenly feels like over five years ago when I didn’t think twice about pulling out of her what’s bothering her. Her problems never had to do with me, so it was easy to nudge her into confiding in me about anything.
It almost feels like we’re friends again, but the look she gives me worries me; her expression reflects fear and her eyes are wet.
I have no doubt her secret has something to do with me, but what the hell could it be? What’s worrying her so?
Is the guy she’s seeing violent? Is she afraid he’ll come after me? Or, god forbid, is she afraid of suffering physical consequences of being with me? She’s not dating some abuser, is she? I’ll tear him to pieces if he lays a hand on her.
“Nina, why are you so afraid? You know you can tell me anything, right?”
“Brent,” is all she says sof
tly when we finally slide up to her place.
