Sext(19)

The orgasm hit me so fast I couldn't stop it. He kept right on fucking  me though, teeth gritted, eyes locked on me. "I didn't …  say …  you …  could  come … " he groaned between thrusts, and my belly tightened, his cock  still deep in me, moving hard, fast. "I'm going …  to have …  to make …  you  come again," he added, and I let my head fall back against the table,  gasping.

I lost track of time as he pounded inside me. I lost track of everything  but the ache in my pussy, the slap of his balls against my ass, the  sight whenever I looked down at his glorious cock sliding in and out of  my tight pussy, slick with my juices. I came again, moaning this time,  my body shaking, my hands gripping Zayne's forearms tightly. He didn't  even slow down, just kept fucking me at the same pace, eyes locked on  mine, full of fierce desire, possessive lust.

I thought he'd finish then, but instead, he released my thigh with one hand and dropped it between my legs.

"Wait-" I gasped, afraid of how sensitive my clit would be.

He smirked and pressed his thumb against my clit, the pressure alone was  enough to make my hips buck and sway against the table. "You should  have thought of this before you came without my permission," he  murmured, smirking. He circled his thumb and I cried out, pleasure and  pain shocking through my system in equal measure.

"Fuck, Zayne," I managed to gasp.

He laughed between thrusts, his own breath still coming hard. "Come again, Clove."

"I …  can't … " I whispered, though my hips had begun to move of their own  accord, thrusting up against him, grinding his thumb against my clit.

"Yes you can. Come for me."

My mouth fell open, my eyes unfocused, the pressure intolerable,  unstoppable. It was too much, too much pleasure, my body was on fire,  I'd never reach the peak.         

     



 

"Come for me, slut."

My pussy clenched at that, turned on by his reckless tone, his  possessive attitude. He circled his thumb again and I writhed against  the table. Fuck, he was right, I was going to come again. I could barely  keep my eyes open, barely focus on anything in the room.

"Come. Now."

I screamed something. Gibberish. Maybe his name mixed in there  somewhere, I didn't know. I was lost in the cloud of pleasure, fire  sparking through my veins. I felt my pussy spasm and tighten around his  cock, felt him drop his hand to grab my hips with both hands. My body  shook, and my vision was clouded with bright spots of color as the  orgasm continued to wash over me, through me, take control.

A moment later, Zayne's hips collided with mine and he let out a  guttural growl. I felt warm, hot cum shooting inside me as he groaned  and kept thrusting into me, until finally, he leaned against me,  exhausted, and I let my legs drop to either side of him and pulled him  down against my chest, our sweaty bodies pressed together, cool and hot  all at once, his cock still deep inside me, pulsing with the aftershocks  of his orgasm.

"Fuck," I'd murmured, but he only laughed and turned to kiss my lips once, softly.

"I want to keep doing this to you forever, Clove," he'd whispered  against my mouth. "I haven't felt like this for someone so fast in … " He  shook his head, met my gaze, his eyes suddenly full of emotion, searing  through me. "Ever," he breathed, and my heart skipped in my chest.

"Neither have I," I confessed, my voice soft, low. We leaned in, let our  foreheads rest together and gazed directly into one another's eyes for a  long, quiet moment. Just drinking this in. Realizing that both of us  were feeling the same height of emotion.

Then he'd smiled, a mischievous grin. "My hour isn't up yet," he reminded me, and …

I shake my head. This isn't helping. None of this is. I pull my hands  out of my jeans, my clit still swollen and sore, aching for release. But  I ignore it, push the fantasy out of my head. I remember what happened  next, and I don't want to think about it. Not right now. Not now that I  know who Zayne really is.

A liar, for one thing. A lie by omission is still a lie, and who knows if that's the only lie he told me?

That night at poker, he said I needed to get better at lying. Maybe he was speaking from experience.

I finish writing the email to the company and hit send. Then I dare a  glance at my phone. 27 missed calls, 13 new voicemails, and 122 texts.  Ugh.

I scroll straight past all the unfamiliar numbers, ignoring the  occasional slurs that I catch glimpses of in them. Slut, whore, cunt.

I scroll past until I reach my text thread with Andy and Celeste. By now  it's almost 5pm, and our workday will be ending. I might not be able to  contribute in the office right now, but I can still meet them after  work.

Emergency post-work margaritas? I ask, and it doesn't take long before  the two yes's pour in. Love that about my work besties. I can always  count on them for a drink when I really, really need to vent.

I head downstairs again.

Zayne is in the lobby. I spot him even before he turns around, his  stance and the familiar slope of his shoulders immediately recognizable.  What was I thinking? I ask myself for the millionth time. Getting  involved with someone here, someone I'll never be able to escape.

I try to breeze past, but his voice stops me dead halfway to the door.

"Clove."

I stop in the middle of the hallway, shoulders hunched. There's a couple  of other people around, so we both, without discussing it, wait for  them to clear out. Wait until it's just me and Zayne alone in the  hallway. When I steal a glance at the doors ahead of me, I catch his  reflection in them, his gaze fixed on me. He looks so different in  uniform. Hotter, somehow, if that's possible.

"Listen, I'm sorry … "

I laugh, my voice low and bitter. "That's it?"

"I'm trying to find out what's going on."

"But you still don't want to tell me." I lock eyes with him in the  window. He meets my gaze, the street reflected behind him, making his  eyes seem less blue and more stormy-gray right now.

"I …  I just need to work out some things … "

I laugh again, just once this time. "Good luck with that." I storm out  without waiting for another word from him. It'll just be another lie,  I'm sure.

That's all he's really good at.





9





"Oh honey." Celeste greets me with a hug. Andy, always the more  practical of our group, skips the hug in favor of ordering me a double  margarita, "heavy on the ta-kill-ya," he adds, our little in-joke with  the bartender at our favorite corner dive.         

     



 

I huddle into the booth between them. We sit in this corner booth every  time we come here, which is probably a lot more often than any of us  would care to admit.

I take a long gulp of the margarita before I feel ready to even meet their eyes.

"Tell us everything," Andy prompts, so I do. I let it all out.  Everything from the moment Zayne fought off that creepy stalker I'd been  on a date with last week, down to the moment just half an hour ago when  I passed him in the lobby and kept right on walking.

"Good for you," Andy tells me on that last bit, patting my arm as I take  another swig of my drink. Spilling my guts is thirsty-making work.

"It doesn't feel good," I sigh. "It feels like I got duped again. Zayne  is just another playboy, just like that stalker he fought off, only with  a slightly better game."

"At least you got a few good lays out of him?" Celeste, ever the  optimist, offers that nugget of wisdom before she finishes off what I'm  guessing is not her first margarita.

I groan. "Yeah, but at what cost? That photo is ruining me."

"It'll blow over." Andy shakes his head. "No way Stacy is going to lose  such a great employee over something stupid like this. She just had to  ask you to stay out of the office for a while to appease the higher-ups,  you'll see. In no time at all she'll be begging you to come back and  this all will be a stupid mistake we can laugh about a few months down  the line."

I glare at him.

"Okay, a few years maybe," he amends. "But honestly, Clove, it'll be  fine. The internet has a short attention span. Those creepy guys will  quit calling soon."

In response, I shove my phone at him. 32 more missed texts while we've  been sitting here alone. I watch Andy scroll through some of them and  cringe. Then his eyes light up, and before I know it, he's tapping away  on my screen.

"What are you doing?" I ask, nervous, and lean toward him. He pulls the phone away, just long enough to tap a few more times.

"Taking care of at least some of your problems," he replies. Then he  turns the phone around to show me, and I have to bite back a laugh.

He just sent dick pics back to all of the creepy dudes sexting me. Not  just any dick pics either, but what appear to be the largest dick he  could find online, complete with rainbow-dyed pubes.