“Oh, God. Cal…”
I can’t respond with anything other than a hiss as the air rushes past my lips, and I push myself all the way home in one deep thrust. Her moans dissolve in my kiss and then I’m moving—hard, fast, rough and heavy. I can’t slow down my pace because if I give myself even a second to think about this I’ll come. I need her too damn much.
Her legs lift and wrap around my waist, and I slide in further. Being inside her fills me with so much satisfaction, I feel like the king of the fucking world right now. I push into her and then pull almost all the way out, before delving back in and repeating the cycle. It’s the sweetest torture there is, and I’m turning into a damn sadist except it’s me I’m tormenting, not her.
“Jesus, Tweet…you feel fucking amazing.”
Her nails bite into the skin on my back, and she mumbles something completely unintelligible before I feel her begin to shake beneath me.
“Harder, Cal…I, I’m—”
I up my pace, slamming into her at a grueling rate and then the sensations are too extreme, too exciting, too stimulating. The sounds she’s making. The feel of her from the inside, and the vision of her on the outside.
I can’t prolong it any longer.
It’s happening.
My body tenses and I still myself as a wave of heat and passion and electricity washes over me. I release into her in violent, hard, hot bursts.
“Fuck, Robynnnnn….”
My head falls to her shoulder, and her body tightens around me. We’re a mass of tangled limbs and trembling bodies. I’ve no real concept of where she ends, and I begin, and I fucking love it. I don’t even care that I’m pretty sure she’s just ruined me. If this is what ruined is, then bring it on because I don’t ever want to feel anything other than this right now.
I’ve just been completely screwed in the best possible way
IT’S HOT, FAR, far too hot. My legs kick out in an attempt to rid myself of my sheets, but they don’t budge. They also don’t feel like sheets, not even slightly.
My eyes snap open, and it takes me a good few seconds for my mind to process what my eyes are seeing. A long thick leg lay between my own, the leg belongs to a very naked muscular torso, and a heavy tanned arm currently draped across my chest, pinning me to the mattress. I blink, making sure I’m awake and not imagining this, and then I slowly turn my head and come face to face with Callum.
I feel my heart jolt in my chest at the sight of him. His messy dark hair looks like perfection, no matter how mussed it is, and those long, thick, black eyelashes that have no business belonging to a man are fanned across the swell of his cheeks. My throat feels dry as I take in the sight of his square jaw, dusted with a few days of regrowth and his lips parted ever so slightly. They allow each one of his even breaths to tickle my neck as they pass over me. I take a second to watch him and then I’m assaulted by the memories of last night and how I came to be pinned to the bed by this beautiful man.
Goosebumps race across my body, despite the oppressive heat, and I need to move but I don’t want to wake him. He looks so peaceful and content but I have to free myself. If I don’t move in the next thirty seconds I’m going to either pass out from the heat and weight of him, or I’m going to pee myself, and then pass out. Neither is appealing, so with as much grace and caution as I can muster, I wriggle down the bed, and slither like a snake from under his arm before letting myself slide from the bed and onto the floor with all the poise of a baby hippo.
The floorboards moan and protest under my weight, and I quickly look back to Cal, who seems so completely oblivious to my escape that he hasn’t so much as stirred. I grab the first item of clothing my eyes land on—Cal’s gray worn t-shirt. I pull it over my head and am immediately hit with the scent of him as the soft fabric slides over my face. I take a deep breath, and then push my arms through and pad out to the bathroom as quietly as I can, given that my muscles feel heavy from sleep and the late night impromptu workout they received. I ache in all the right places, and I can’t help but smile at the thought.
I catch my reflection in the mirror as I wash my hands in the basin, and I straighten and shut off the water, watching the person staring back at me closely. I don’t recognize her. Sure she has my untamed bed hair, making me look like I was dragged through a hedge backward in my sleep; she even has my slightly kiss-swollen lips and flushed complexion from the heat. But it’s not me, because the Robyn I know wouldn’t have had sex with her boss, and she certainly wouldn’t have had sex with him—no matter how amazing—while seeing another man.
Cole may not be my boyfriend, but that’s just a technicality. I knew his intentions; he’s been nothing but up front about wanting a relationship, and I’ve been happy to hang around, fooling him and myself with this casual status. I’m a horrible person. Guilt is coursing through my veins, and I look away from the mirror. I can’t stand to look at myself right now because even my guilt is misplaced. I feel guilty because I know I would do it again, given the same circumstances. I’d still sleep with Cal, so what kind of awful bitch must I be?
I feel sick as I make my way out of the bathroom and back down the hall. I want to blame it on the wine I shared with Cole, but I know it’s a lie. My sickness stems from my own inability to keep a hold of my morals. I’ve never been a cheater, and up until last night, I would have quite categorically announced that I never would be. I’ve been on the receiving end of infidelity, and it was enough to keep my moral compass pointing true north…until now.
My high school boyfriend Michael was the love of my naïve teenage life, and I would have followed him anywhere. I was so drunk on his fake affection that I was blinded to the way he treated me with very little, if any, respect. My rose-tinted glasses were firmly in place, and I’d defy anyone who questioned the solidarity of our relationship, even putting him ahead of friendships that had been in place since kindergarten. He would placate me with huge public displays of what I know now were false affection.
The night of my sixteenth birthday Michael was missing, as all of my friends gathered around me singing Happy Birthday. I’d decided to go find him, and that’s exactly what I did. I found him in the downstairs bathroom of my parents’ house with my older sister Erin’s best friend Jaime. His pants hung down at his ankles as her head frantically bobbed back and forth, kneeling in front of him. I don’t remember what I did next, but I know that it took him another five minutes before both he and Jaime left the bathroom and left the party together in her car. The rumors that circulated school were that he was caught mid-blowjob and decided that having her finish was a better idea than chasing after me. I don’t know if it was the humiliation or the sheer sense of betrayal, but I vowed I’d never be the kind of person that did that to someone else. If I didn’t want to be with them, I’d tell them before moving on. The realization that I’m now no better than Michael makes my skin crawl and my stomach ache in disgust.
I’m nearing the end of the hall and stop in my tracks. Where do I go from here? Do I crawl back into bed with Cal? Or sneak into my own room and hide while I try to figure out what the hell I’m doing, before facing Cal or Cole? Fate decides for me as I’m standing in the middle of the hall wearing Cal’s t-shirt and nothing else. I’m having a moral meltdown, and Callum pads out of his room scratching his head, yawning, completely naked as the day he was born. The heat that I thought was suffocating five minutes before suddenly feels tepid in comparison to the fire seeing Cal ignites. I press my thighs together as an arrow of desire quickly shoots south and spears me with arousal. My pulse kicks up a few gears as my heart decides to try and escape my chest, drumming wildly against my ribs and I freeze, not knowing what to do or where to look.