She doesn’t scream, which is a shame, but she shakes, and I can feel a torrent of wetness pouring down to my wrist. I’m still kissing her, plundering her mouth while she gives as good as she gets, her teeth scraping my tongue, biting my lips. Her body clenches on me, pulsing. Between us, she starts to grab at my button and my fly.
I let her. As soon as she’s got them both open, I cup my hands under her ass and pick her up off the counter. By the time I slam her back into the nearest refrigerator, she’s got my dick out and is scraping it with her fingernails.
“Shit, shit,” I mutter. It hurts, and I almost drop her, but at the same time the pain makes a tight knot of lust at the small of my back. “Let go.”
She does, and I’m both relieved and bereft at the loss of her small, painful hands. In the next second, though, I’m inside her, slamming her into the refrigerator, holding her there more with the force of my hips thrusting between her legs than with my hands that still clutch her ass.
I take her hard, just as I did with my fingers, pounding her with everything I’ve got. It can’t be comfortable, but she just folds her legs around my waist and holds on. She bites my earlobes, yanks at my hair. I growl and fuck her harder.
She’s dragging her nails down my back, probably leaving marks even through the shirt I’m still wearing, when I come so hard my vision goes black for a few seconds. It’s a screaming maelstrom of an orgasm, ripping up my back to the base of my neck, clenching my balls in a tight fist, moving in waves down the insides of my thighs. The growl that comes out of me doesn’t sound human. I keep shoving into her all the way through it, until my arms start to shake and I have to ease back a little. As the orgasm fades into slow, intermittent pulses, I let her slide down until her feet touch the floor. My dick’s still a little hard, and sticky as it brushes over the softness of her belly.
She looks up at me, pupils blown, her hair a mussed black cloud around her face.
“Take me home,” she says, her voice breathy. “Do it to me again.”
Chapter Seven
Sarah
Yet another morning awakening in Nick’s bed, in his arms. He’s still asleep, his breathing slow and even, and his body is warm against mine. I hold still; for the moment I’m not ready for him to wake up. I know he’ll probably want sex. Not that I wouldn’t be willing, but I’d rather just lie here for a while. Maybe actually rest for a change.
The sex is good—there’s no questioning that—but I’m still not sure if he has any actual feelings for me. I wonder if it matters in the long run. Especially since I’m not sure I have any actual feelings for him.
He’s using me—I know that much. But I’m using him, too. For now it’s what we both need. Once he’s gotten the position he wants in Spada’s organization, and once I’m safely away from Sal…who knows?
But then there’s the question of the baby. If I do get pregnant, I can’t imagine leaving my child behind, even if it means staying with Nick. Once there’s a baby, everything changes.
Would that be so bad, though? Nick’s good to me, at least so far, whether he loves me or not. And he’ll be invested in keeping his child safe, protecting me and the baby. I’ll be guaranteed a place to live and a relatively affluent lifestyle. He’s promised me that. More, I’ll get to be a mother, raising his child—maybe even more than one, if I stay with him—running his household. And running my business, which is the only thing I ever really wanted in the first place. Maybe, in time, we’ll work out a kind of truce. Maybe, in time, we might even develop some affection for each other.
I lay a hand on my stomach, wondering. Yes, it could take months for me to get pregnant, but what if it’s already happened? That might make it harder for me to get away, but it would certainly make Nick happy. Which, in turn, could make my life easier while I stay with him.
I take a long breath, lost in the circle of questions that have no answers. Nick stirs next to me, and I finally give up and roll out of bed to go to the bathroom. When I come back, Nick’s half sitting up against his pillows, watching me as I return to the bed. He gives me a slow smile, and I get back under the blankets next to him.
To my surprise, he just wraps his arms around me and kisses my neck, not making any effort to initiate sex. At least not yet. I lay a hand on his, content just to lie there for now, enjoying the warmth and the way he feels wrapped around me.
After a while, though, everything that happened yesterday starts to creep up on me. I can’t just let it rest; I’m worried about what’s going to happen to the bakery. How can I keep any momentum going if I’m not there to keep the doors open?