Nothing could make this situation right. Even when the board voted in their favor, sometime down the road, the memories would still be there. The things John had said and done could not be erased, not even with the fulfillment of Sara Beth’s dream. That ugliness would always remain, in her mind and his. But for a few minutes, for just a little while, Cailin could take him out of this world and replace reality with the fantasy. That’s what he craved right now. The fantasy world he’d built with her.
She must have been watching for him, because as he raised his hand to knock, the door creaked open. Cailin stood in the black opening. Her pale skin was bare, beautiful, and he sucked in his breath at the pleasure it evoked. He felt a moment’s regret that he wouldn’t be removing the red dress tonight; then sheer lust roared through him, and he stepped across the threshold, slammed the door shut, and grabbed the vision awaiting him.
There was no finesse, no foreplay, only harsh grunts and groans, ripping and tearing, and finally the sheer bliss of Cailin’s warm, soft, wet body surrounding his cock. He pushed deep, thankful she was ready. Not until he hilted, rocking against the hard ridge of her cervix, did he still. Cailin moaned, her head rolling slowly against the wall behind her, her channel clenching as she adjusted to his size. With desperate whimpers and tiny thrusts, she begged him to move, but Alex shook his head. He wrapped both hands underneath her ass, clenching the cheeks tightly, forcing her fully against him, laid his head against her breastbone, his mouth between the soft, tremulous mounds of her breasts, and breathed her in.
His sanity.
His world.
His miracle.
Finally, arms trembling with her full weight, he stumbled back, adjusted, and carefully lowered her to the ground, never losing the connection between them. Cailin sprawled beneath him, blonde curls fanning out like an angel, her eager body clutching him tightly. Her eyes were mysterious pools of darkness, and yet he felt her stare down deep into the heart of him. Nothing hidden, no shame. Just hunger and heat and need.
He grasped her legs where they tucked around him, pushing her knees out and back toward her chest, opening her completely. One slow withdrawal, her tissues dragging, crying to keep him, and then a hard, quick, heavy thrust all the way in. There was no way to keep him out, no way to control the depth of his penetration, and yet, instead of struggling, Cailin grasped her shins, angling her knees out farther, and pulled back, opening herself even more. Alex looked down at where the two of them were joined. Her beautiful lips stretched tight around his shaft, plain even in the low light, glistening with their juices. Alex placed his thumb in her mouth, felt her tongue lave him, and then moved it to the hard pebble of her clit, right there above where their connection began, and pressed in a slow circle.
Cailin wailed.
Like a knife, the sound pierced the bitter haze that had enveloped him. He wanted to hear it again, to drive away the remaining mist, over and over, until all he could see was Cailin, all he could feel were their bodies, all he could think about was driving her higher.
He set up a rhythm: back, forward, circle, press. Repeat. The rise to climax, fast but not fast enough, was killing him. Cailin tensed even more around him, internal muscles fluttering, her legs shaking, her cries frantic. She arched off the floor, only her shoulders and head remaining, her hips grinding against him. Lungs laboring, he drove them both on, Cailin chanting her need with every thrust. “Come, Alex. Come with me. Please.”
Until finally he did. The world sheeted white, oblivion, everything seared in the path of the rushing pleasure overtaking his body and hers. He shouted, one final cry, and all went blissfully black.
* * * *
Cailin hummed. The office was bright with morning sunshine, and even though it was a Monday morning, the world looked just right to her as long as she stayed away from the floor-to-ceiling windows. She dusted the plant that sat in the corner—she never had figured out what kind it was—before grabbing a bottle of water from the stash in the pantry area and watering it. She’d always like plants, though she had the brownest thumb in Alabama, it seemed. Didn’t matter what she planted, it died. Maybe that’s why this one had survived her stint in Alex’s office—she hadn’t planted it.
The thought made her laugh and pat the plant’s wide green leaves. Moving on to her desk, she straightened and cleaned and put things away, her usual Monday morning routine. Starting the week with a neat office filled her with anticipation. Last week all she’d been filled with was dread, since John had been waiting when she walked in. But not today. Today would be a good day.
She’d just bent down to grab the files necessary for today’s meetings from the filing cabinet’s bottom drawer when a heavy hand gripped her hip.