1

  The table shook as Ember danced on it wearing nothing but her bikini bottoms. Topless was as far as she went for her gigs, though the boys always begged. She flung the top at the bachelor of the night, who had drunk more than his share of beer. He snatched it up and swung it around in the air a few times. 
 
Ember smiled and ran her hands through her fiery hair as the final song ended. The guys circled around, asking for her number. A few of them tried to get grabby, which was something she was always afraid of. But there was always a guy in the crowd who was sober and gentlemanly. In this case it was the bachelor himself, Tate Smith. His wavy blond locks fell in his face, but he ignored them to push his friends aside. 

 “Back off guys; she’s not an item to be bought and sold.” Tate grabbed her arm and thrust her bikini top into her hand as he pulled her away from the group. He led her to the room where she’d been allowed to prepare for the evening.
 
“Thanks. That always happens.” Ember slipped her bikini over her head and tied it in the back, positioning her breasts so they fit in the top correctly. 

“No problem.” Tate’s words were slurred, but it was no surprise. She’d seen him drink a lot. In the dim room it was difficult to locate her bag and other clothing, but she managed to slip into her jean shorts and t-shirt. 

“So, I’ve already been paid, so I’ll just call my Uber and let myself out. Congratulations on the engagement. I hope you’re really happy.” Ember passed by him in the doorway, but he hooked an arm around her waist. His cologne caught her attention, musky and sweet. 

“Do you have to go so soon? I mean, I’d like to show you something.” 

Ember gave him a confused look, then chuckled. “I guess I don’t have to leave, but I’m not doing another show.” More than once she’d been asked for that favor, and sometimes she did it—for the right price. But tonight she was tired. Her feet hurt, and she just wanted to sit outside and enjoy the warm weather. Spring had come and after a long winter being locked up, she craved the outdoors. 

“Sure, it’s out back. And no, not another show.” Tate winked at her and then motioned for her to follow. She shuffled hesitantly away from the safety of the group wondering if she was getting herself into a situation she shouldn’t be in. Back the other way was where a dozen men were ogling her and groping her. But out here, she was one-on-one with a man who was easily able to do anything he wanted to her. 

She glanced back at the rowdy room and remembered how he had been such a gentleman when she first arrived, not even willing to let her do a lap dance for him. His fiancé would be irate, was his excuse. She bit her lip and stood at the door looking down the hallway at the men. Deciding she could always knee him in the groin if he got out of control, she bit the bullet and joined in him the back yard. 

She was shocked to see him standing naked, folding his clothing. She burst out laughing at the drunk man whose white skin nearly glowed in the moonlight. “What the hell are you doing?” 

“I’m going to show you something, okay? And then when you see it you decide if you want to ride or die.” 

Confused, she laughed again, covering her mouth. “Ride or die?” She had no clue what he wanted, but she wasn’t having sex with him—that much she knew. Though if that was what he wanted she was certain he would have just locked her in the room where she’d dressed and had his way with her. 

Ember watched as Tate bent over, reaching toward the ground, but when he did, something crazy happened. His arms lengthened and his body grew, shifting into a horse. She gasped and took a step back against the house. “What the?” She had heard of shifters before, but she’d never seen one shift. “So fucking cool!” She took a few steps toward him and held out her hand feeling like an idiot. 

This was a man, not a beast. Why was she acting like he was a horse at the fair? She glanced back at the party and then studied the horse in front of her. Excitement built in her gut until she couldn’t hold back. She pulled one of the lawn chairs up to his side and slung her bag onto her back as she climbed up onto the chair and then onto his back. He held perfectly still as she settled in place, and the moment she gripped his mane, he took of. 

Tate ran across the backyards of the suburb until he reached the outskirts of town where the desert met the houses. His pace slowed as he headed into the barren land, cactuses their only companions. When he stopped, Ember slid from his back and patted his side. “That was amazing.” 

Tate shifted, returning to normal but smiling with a broad grin. His body glistened in the moonlight with perspiration, and she felt badly she didn’t have water to offer him. She stood a few feet away, mesmerized by his ability.  

“Now, I have to ask you, Ms Ember…?” 

“Underwood.” 

“Ms. Underwood… Have you ever fucked a horse?” Tate stepped closer, and though this was completely outside of Ember’s typical mode of operation, she didn’t back away. She felt her cheeks flush hot and licked her lips. 

“I can’t say that I have.” 

Tate reached out and took her hand, pulling her close to him where he took her bag and tossed it aside. He brushed a few hairs out of her face and grinned. “Get ready to be wowed.”

The first kiss was all it took. Ember melted like putty in his hands.      

Adel

The crowd packed into the tiny courtyard buzzed with excitement as the processional pushed between bodies. Standing near the tall hedges that reeked of spring pollen and swarmed with bees, I watched them parade by, my cousin and his new wife seated on chairs waving handkerchiefs as the wedding party carried them in joyous celebration. The hora—an ancient tradition still observed by my mother’s side of the family. 

I clapped along with the guests, wishing they’d had an indoor ceremony and swatting at a few bees that seemed to prefer the product in my hair over the honeysuckle I stood next to. At 27 I still yielded to the stare of doom my mother shot my direction at the sight of me defending myself from the buzzing bastards, and knowing the look better than most, I focused on the celebration and tried ignoring the pests. It wouldn’t do to draw attention to myself at such a moment; all attention should be focused on the bride and groom even if I was allergic and could potentially die from a single sting. 

As the hora wound down, I squeezed through the crowd and found my seat, my suit coat still draped over the back of the cushioned chair. At least at the table there were no insects, despite the array of foods and drinks scattered in half-eaten meals and mostly empty cups. A single honeybee crawled through a puddle of wine that someone had spilled, and rather than smash it and have it alert its buddies from the bush, I sat back and studied its movements. Bees didn’t worry about jobs or relationships. They had no mother or father to please. They were programmed with one thought in mind: make honey and survive. If only life were that simple for humans. 

“Adel, sit straight, honey. You know poor posture is one of the leading causes for back problems later in life.” My mother slid into her chair and used the tip of her steak knife to squash the honeybee, picking it up on the point and flinging it to the ground. “Nasty little creatures, really.” She dropped the knife and patted her hair a few times, the silver-grey strands coiffed perfectly, as always. The gesture was very put-on; she had no reason to fuss over her hair. There had to be at least a gallon of hairspray holding it down. 

I straightened and squared my shoulders, a habit that came naturally after more than a decade of being prodded and nagged. But Mother knew what she was talking about. It was true that slouching was bad for your skeletal system; I just wish she didn’t make it her personal mission to prevent my future spinal arthritis.

“Where’s Dad?” My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth as I talked. My wine glass was empty, or I would have had a sip just to wet my whistle. My father—Daniel Simmons—infamous defense attorney turned general practice: “to expand his reach” as he would always say. 

“Oh, you know. Hobnobbing with Ephraim. They don’t see each other much these days.” Mom held her wine glass up to the light and examined it, probably checking for bees in the sweet liquid. “You’d think my brothers were the bees knees, you know?” She laughed at her own joke, so I smiled to be polite. 

Dad had a thing for Mom’s family, always trying to schmooze them into using Simmons and Beck law firm for their legal needs. Even a wedding was not off limits when it came to high-class business, he would always say. I spent the bulk of my time going over legal briefs and litigation files, not to say it was my cup of tea but it was an honest living—a good one at that. My interest in rubbing elbows with potential clients was about zero, especially at family functions where Aunt Yoli wanted to pinch my cheeks like I was a nine-year-old still. 

No thanks. 

I tapped my fingers on the linen tablecloth and people watched, keeping my eyes peeled for my father’s navy pinstripe suit. Having been forced to ride with them to the wedding, my parents would determine when it was time to leave, but I was ready. I’d been ready since Rabbi Bergstrom shouted, “Mazel tov!” 

“Adel, this is Anna Baker.” My father’s voice behind me sent a wave of tension through my already stiff shoulders. Good posture was for the birds. 

Turning around, my gaze met the face of a modestly attractive woman. Curves in the right places, none in the wrong. Petite and plain, her straight dark hair hung just past her shoulders, a small clutch tucked beneath her arm as she extended a hand my direction. 

“Pop…” I rose to meet the lady as I had been taught, but I forced back the frustration of being introduced to yet another of my father’s connections. Typically he played them off as a way to move clients my direction—I was new to the firm—but recently his suggestions had become a bit more aggressive. He’d all but told me he was setting me up with a “woman who could partner with me for life.” His way of saying: “You don’t know how to choose them son.” 

Anna’s hand was cold as ice, but her smile was warm. “Adel, it’s nice to meet you. Your father told me a bit about what you do. I’m interested to hear more.” She had a deeper voice that I expected, but it wasn’t unpleasant. 

“Yes, I’m a lawyer for the family firm.” What else did you say to a person you knew nothing about, whom your father was forcing into your lap? 

“Anna is the bride’s sister, Adel. Younger sister.” Dad’s wink and crooked grin made my jaw tighten. There was no use telling him I didn’t want to be set up. I knew as well as he did that he and Mom would probably end up choosing my life partner before I even met her. It was that way with everything. I had been enrolled in Harvard before I even got my acceptance letter to officially invite me to apply to law school. They’d chosen my classes and spoken to my school counselors—like “a red carpet laid out for me,” Mom had said. 

“Nice to meet you, Anna.” I gestured to the empty chair at the table, and Anna followed my lead, sitting down and laying her clutch on the table. As she sat I noticed the pencil dress she wore was on the short side—her creamy thigh peeking out at me a bit more than was appropriate. It was a good thing Mom didn’t see that, or Dad’s attempt at fixing me up would have been nipped immediately. 

“Eleanor, join me for a dance?” Dad held out his arm for Mom, who smiled broadly at me and Anna before joining him in a calculated exit. This had been a regular occurrence since about the same time I broke up with Miriam—a.k.a. Mimi—the woman who could do no wrong. What they didn’t know was she cheated on me, making me see her less-than-perfect side, while displaying only the posh, wife-ready attitude she wanted them to see. A nail in the coffin of my own defensed—I was unable to choose my own mate because I clearly fucked things up with Mimi so Mom and Dad would have to find one for me.

“He’s a sweet old man.” Anna pushed a few half-empty plates away from where she sat and plucked a bundle of hydrangea blooms from the centerpiece, twirling them in her finger. The bold purple petals complimented the green flecks in her eyes. 

“Wily is more like it. He thinks setting me up with women will mean a legacy.” I chuckled and tried to break the ice. I was a master at that—ice breaking. As a lawyer I had to be; to be able to form an instant rapport with my clients and assure them of my intent to work hard for them. 

“Are you averse to being set up?” Anna looked up at me through dark, long lashes, her fingers toying with the purple flower petals. “I mean, it’s not like you’re living in the Middle East and having an arranged marriage.” She shot me a coy smile.

“Your sister, what was her name? Is this an arranged marriage?” Anna was not who my father thought she was. I’d spent the past 15 years—ever since I could remember really—learning to read people. Reading their body language, facial expressions and even the hidden truths behind their words enabled me to always have an appropriate response. Anna, here, was the type of woman who needled her way into a man’s pants to make him beg for more, then left him drooling and wondering how he got played by such a gorgeous lady. 

The form-fitting, low-cut dress, her long silver earrings that tickled the tops of her shoulders, the bold, thick eye makeup painted on to mask her emotions: Anna was a walking bag of trauma ready to unleash her defense mechanisms and insecurities on an unsuspecting victim. I was not that victim. I’d seen it all before—too many times. She laughed and threw her head back, then looked back at me with more serious smile, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“Sofia is a hopeless romantic, swooned away by Mattieu. She even converted to Judiasm just to be acceptable to his mother.” She snorted and sat back in her chair. “Waste. I mean, for love, right? But still…” 

“You’re not a woman of faith?” The longer Anna talked, the more I realized my father had seen only the pretty smile and her connection to her father’s business. Mattieu took his faith seriously, so I doubted her sister was the same, but then everyone has their secrets. 

“This is America, Adel. I believe in capitalism. I believe in hard work, and commitment. I believe in what I can see and what I can do to make things better.” 

“And you believe in cozying up to wealthy men to make life a bit easier for yourself while you work to climb the ladder…” She pursed her lips and her smile vanished. “Tell me, Anna, does your father—the stock broker, right?—does he know you do this? What would he say?” 

Anna popped to her feet and picked up her clutch, promptly plucking a champagne flute off the table and splashing the few last sips from within it onto my face. She stomped off in search of a more willing victim, and I used a napkin to dry my face and blot the drink from my tie. 

Really, if Father wanted to set me up, he’d do better to take applications. His judgement of character was horribly flawed at best, and dangerous at worst. I’d read enough women in this city to know the one I was meant to be with had not yet found me, nor I her. 

***

Veronica

I sank down onto the faux-velvet settee, typically reserved for those bored tagalongs who carried women’s bags as they shopped. Sisley stood in front of me with her pointed flats angled in, their toes touching slightly, her knees trembling. Her broken Italian-English accent had always been my favorite off all the designers I employed, but I couldn’t bear to hear any more. 

“Vera… I swear it. My designs are original, no knock offs.” She bit her lip, her furrowed brow and pleading eyes imploring me to remain calm. The accusation of poaching designs had surfaced only a few days previous, and Sisley had sworn to her own defense countless times that her designs were hers alone. Still, with the evidence sent to me via email from the plaintiff’s attorney, my gut told me I needed to contact Marvin. 

“I’m not mad, Sis.” I scrubbed my hands across my face and took a deep breath, calming the lines on my face, a trick my mother taught me. Youthful skin was not purchased and applied by smearing cosmetics across your face. It was nurtured and hard-earned by proper care and nutrition—which meant not allowing wrinkles to form by repeatedly screwing my face into a scowl. Peering up at her, I sighed. “I’ll make it right. Go, finish the spring line now. I have to speak to Marvin.” 

Sisley shuffled off to the back of the boutique where the design magic happened. The store front was a mere third the size of the design offices and production rooms. Nestled between a quaint woodworking shop owned by an elderly man and his grandson, and a donut shop that always made the boutique heavenly, my store was my livelihood. I’d worked my ass off after design school to break out in the fashion world as an influencer—hours on social media, hundreds of shows and runways, countless nights scouring the internet in research—and it had paid off. I’d be damned if I was going to let some snooty designer from the backside of nowhere step in and ruin everything I’d worked for. 

Scooting back on the settee, I kicked off my ballet flats and pulled my legs up, sitting cross-legged to be more comfortable. I felt more at home surrounded by the racks of clothing and expensive art that adorned the walls, but it didn’t assuage my anxiety or frustration over the unfolding litigation that threatened to pull me and my budding business under. And it all just had to happen at the exact same time we were set to break ground on a new expansion for the boutique—an art gallery that would feature not only the most exclusive pieces of artwork from top artists, but a splash of local talent as well. 

I punched Marvin’s number into my cell and hit send, pressing the cold device to my ear. I’d had a thought to call him a few days ago, but the research I’d done had made me believe all of this would blow over without much fuss. The email from Banksy and Todd, the law firm threatening to file suit against me, kindled anxiety. So here I was waiting for the phone to ring through to my father’s oldest friend and the man who had represented me and helped me file my articles of organization. 

“Mr. Todd’s office, who may I say is calling?” Teri’s too-feminine voice greeted me and I already felt lighter. 

“Hey, Teri. It’s me, Roni. I need Marvin.” I hated the nickname, preferring to go by Vera, but Mom insisted Roni was more playful and artists are anything but professional. Vera—for whatever reason—made me sound stodgy and distant. I disagreed, but mother knows best, right?

“Oh, Roni! I talked to your dad yesterday. I scheduled a golf outing for him and Mr. Todd. It’s so nice to see him enjoying his retirement.” I heard papers shuffling in the background and did not respond, but the line crackled with expectation. I wasn’t in the mood for discussion with Teri about my father’s hobbies. 

“Teri… Marvin? Please?” I had to have sounded impatient, but it was the nerves. 

“Yes, of course.” The line went silent for a moment, and I heard a few tones, then Marvin’s buttery voice and southern drawl crooned out at me, setting my soul at ease. 

“Well, Ms. Neuhaus, so nice to hear from you. What can I help you with this fine afternoon?” He was always the gentleman, and never anything but. Part of the reason I’d accepted the help from my father despite wanting to do things on my own. As much as my parents hated “the way society forces people into entrapments” hiring a lawyer had been a necessary evil. Their rebellion against structure and discipline made them fantastic as artists and creatives in general, but often left them vulnerable to the world as a whole. Which is how I found myself in the situation I was in, trusting in art and beauty more than law and order. 

I was a free spirit, but one who should have trusted her gut and not let “art and beauty” alone guide me. “Hey, Marvin. I sent an email—well forwarded an email. Did you get it?” Pushing a strand of my bold red hair behind my ear, I sunk my teeth into the soft skin inside my cheek. 

“I sure did, Ms. Vera. I see you’ve got a bit of a conundrum happening. No worries, though… You still use the digital software for your designs?” 

“Of course.”

“Well then, it’s a simple matter of auditing your software to ascertain the design dates of each one of these designs in question. You forward that information to me, and if the dates line up, this case goes away.” The Mack truck once parked on my shoulders, rolled away, hopefully to never return. 

“Fuck... that’s a relief.” 

“Well, I’m glad I could help you out. I’ll wait for that email from you then. Anything else I could help you with?” 

“Yeah, well actually I mentioned that expansion a few weeks back and told you I’d be in touch. I’d like to get the ball rolling on some legalities and such. Do you have time to discuss it now?” Feeling relieved, I stood and strolled through the showroom, straightening a few shirts on hangers as I held the phone between my shoulder and my ear. It was a quiet afternoon for the shop, so I didn’t mind discussing things over the phone. We had no customers, and my staff was privy to all legal matters for the time being. 

“Well, I supposed Teri told you but I guess I was wrong. I’m retiring, Veronica. I’ll be passing my clients off to another firm. Not selling your files, just helping you find a lawyer that’s a good fit for you.” 

I stopped mid-stride and let the news sink in. Marvin had been with me every step of the way, and now he was leaving? “But I need you… What will I do without you? I’ll go belly up, Marv. You’re my guy!” 

“Nonsense, Vera. You have a great head on your shoulders, despite what your parents say.” 

Ouch. 

“I have someone very specific in mind. There’s a younger partner at Simmons and Beck. They’re a couple hours away, but their office is just around the corner from the property you’re looking to invest in. You’ll like the guy, Adel. He’s very knowledgeable and his team has yet to lose a case. Very good lawyer.” 

My heart sank. A lawyer was a lawyer; they could all do the job, but no one was like Marvin. I remembered poker nights when Dad would have the guys over and they’d all smoke fancy cigars provided by Mr. Todd while bantering about how they only invited him for his money. Four artists and a lawyer—I always got a kick out of that myself. 

“What will you do in retirement, Marvin?” Realizing the only choice I had was to accept my fate and move on, I plopped back onto the settee and slid my feet back into my shoes. 

“Oh, I think I’ll hire a golf coach. I can’t let your father keep beating me. I look like a fool.” He chuckled and we ended the call on a much happier note than it had begun, but a bittersweet one. Marvin would forward all my files to the new guy, and would set up an appointment for me to discuss any pending litigation for the design theft case with the new guy. And I would get to see him at some point when I joined Mom and Dad for dinner at his place. 

Nostalgia hung in the air as I locked my phone and lay back on the settee, staring out over the racks of clothing. Marvin had championed me even when my thoughts and ideas differed from those of my mother. Each time I had succeeded at something she’d told me I would fail at, Marvin had been the one with applause and praise, and Mom had been the one to tell me it would have been even more successful if I’d have listened to her. I was sure the new branch of the store would be no different, except this time there would be no Marvin to sing my praises. 

My phone chimed so I unlocked it and found a notification of an email. The appointment with the new lawyer had been set—Tuesday at 10 a.m.—and it would be via Zoom. Much easier that way. I didn’t have time on Tuesday to travel two hours just for a meeting with a lawyer. We had the spring line coming out and there was still so much to do. 

I locked my phone, jammed it into my pocket and headed toward the back of the store. Sisley would be relieved to hear what Marvin had had to say, and I needed to get into that software to see the dates files had been cached. With any luck, he was right and our designs had been timestamped before any of the designs found on our accuser’s server. If not, we were in for a heap of trouble. 

I watched her for the two weeks she took sanctuary in my home. She had gone from being uneasy to at peace, to comfortable. More and more she was looking like she was at home, especially after I’d sent Marta to Fifth Avenue with a shopping list and all of Crystal’s measurements. Her face was brighter than that of a child at Christmas when the packages had been set in front of her. I was certain she’d never seen a $400 pair of jeans before. 

Crystal was perfect in every way, though I’d not even made my move yet. It had to be her idea, though the entire scenario had been orchestrated to convince her how much she needed me. Paulo and two of the other grunts on loan from Uncle Tommy had it easy. All they had to do was sit down the street day and night and pretend to be keeping tabs on her. I’d even paid them extra to drive past now and then and brandish their weapons. I could feel her melting like putty between my fingers, and knew it was time to make my move. 

I crept into her room—my room—like I had every morning since the day I’d brought her here. She looked so peaceful nestled in my four-post bed, her bare shoulders revealing she’d slept in the buff. Quietly I disrobed, laying my trousers and t-shirt across the chaise before padding softly to the far side of the bed, and as carefully as I could without shaking bed, I slipped beneath the blanket and lay down behind her. She stirred only slightly and turned her back to me, rolling to her side.

“Mmm,” she moaned and swatted at me as I scooted closer to her, pressing my body against her. I kissed the back of her bare shoulder, her creamy skin smelled like honeysuckle and dew berries—the lotion I’d bought for her. Arousal pulsed through my groin, and I closed my eyes imagining how it would feel to be inside of her, to hear her call my name at the height of her pleasure. The heat from her skin only served to push my own libido higher, and I felt the familiar tension in my lower half as I began to pulse with want for her. 

“Sleeping…” Crystal murmured, and I put an arm over her, pulling her against my body tight. I sensed her tensing in my embrace, but I knew it was time. I knew she was ready. 

“Wake up.” My whispers danced across her cheek, fluttering her hair and opening her eyes. 

“Liam!” She jerked away from me, turning beneath the covers and pushing herself back. “Liam what are you doing?” She pushed against my chest as if she didn’t want me, but I had seen the signals, felt the chemistry for days now. I pulled her back toward myself, pressing my manhood on her hip so she could feel what she did to me, the way she made my body react. 

“I want you.” 

“Liam, no. You need to leave.” Her protests came with accompanying physical reactions, fists pounding on my chest and legs pushing at me to keep me at bay, but when I captured both of her wrists in one hand she stopped. “Liam, why are you doing this?” 

“Crystal, we belong together.” I raised up over her, pinning her arms above her head as she squealed. She called out for someone to come, but I’d given them all the morning off, even Tommy’s boys in the street. It was just me and Crystal, and I intended to take full advantage of that. 

“You don’t want anyone to interrupt this, precious girl.” I lowered my mouth to hers and kissed her. She fought me, biting my tongue and trying to kick me off, so I nibbled on her neck instead as I forced my way between her knees.

“Liam,” she cried, “please stop this. Please…” Still she fought against me, but I knew she would give in to me. I had seen it in her eyes that she wanted me, that she had been aroused by me as well. If I had asked her politely, she would always have declined, but then I wasn’t in to asking politely, and she wasn’t the type that wanted the gentleman. 

“You know you want this.” I could feel my body hardening, ready to plunge into her depth and claim her as mine. I smelled her arousal too as it wafted up from beneath the blankets. It was all I needed to be encouraged.

Bracing my weight on the hand that held her wrists, I reached down, caressing her beautiful round breast and drawing a single line down her middle to the clean-shaven mound between her legs. I felt her shiver and squeeze my hips as I softly touched her, the moisture from her body dampening my fingertip. 

“I can tell you want me.” 

“Not like this,” she whimpered, still pulling at her wrists attempting to free herself. “Liam, please no.” 

“If I were any other way you wouldn’t want me.” I sank my finger into her, searching out her body, feeling her clench around me. “You like it.” 

“Liam.” Her sobs came hard and fast and she writhed to break free, but I held her fast as I massaged her clit, hoping to release enough arousal she’d stop fighting me. “Please, stop!” she shouted over and over as I touched her, mercilessly dipping into her juices and preparing her for my entry. 

“Shh, now you don’t want the neighbors to hear.” I covered her mouth with mine and kissed her and muffled her sobs, and for the briefest of seconds I believed she kissed me back. She fought less, whether it was due to her feeling defeated, or if I was succeeding, I didn’t know, but it was in that moment I slid into her. 

The heat her was divine, immediately quenching the need in my throbbing member. I thrust into her, sinking until I felt her back wall resist and pushed harder. Her pants of pleasure told me I’d been correct all along. She still protested me. I could feel her hips rock downward, refusing my attempts at finding her depth, but when I splayed my hand across her stomach and drew my thumb in tight circles across her clit, her back arched up. 

“Stop, Liam.” Though she said the words I knew she didn’t mean them. Over and over, I plunged into her, slamming our bodies together until I felt her body tensing. She clenched around me and her breathing became shallow and rapid. “Stop, Liam,” she panted, her lips agape now, several strands of hair stuck in the corner of her mouth. 

This time when I leaned down to claim her lips, her passion took over and I felt her moan into my embrace. Her tits feathered my chest and then her body seized. She writhed beneath me in the bed, this time in ecstasy and not in protest. I released her wrists and her hands pressed against the headboard, pushing her body down farther against mine. I followed her cue thrusting harder into her as she came around me. 

She welcomed my kisses, and I used them to stifle her screams of enjoyment, crashing into her like the waves greet the shore. Our bodies locked in rhythm, she rose to meet me, and I obliged, massaging her more passionately until she calmed. Emotion burst out of her, tears cascading down her cheeks. I wanted to hold her, but my own need throbbed deep inside of her still. 

I pulled out and she lay limp on the bed, not even moving away from me. She covered her face with her hands and sobbed, and I turned her over, gripping her hips and pulling her backside into me. I wanted to feel the heat of her around me again, wanted to explode inside of her. 

With her face buried in the pillows I pressed my thick rod against her backside and force it into her tight ring of muscles. She gasped, and I heard her yelp into the pillow, but the depth I achieved was nothing short of miraculous. I ground myself into her, gripping her hips and again pounding our bodies together. 

Crystal cried out for a moment in pain, but soon it ceased and felt her relaxing beneath me, my steady thrusts bringing my own climax closer and closer. I leaned forward and cupped her tits, feeling her hot walls squeeze my manhood. Each movement sent my coil tightening until I knew orgasm was eminent. I straightened and grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling her head up off the bed as I yanked it. 

The moment she let out a cry of pain again, I felt it all unravel. Intense pressure built in my groin and released in a flood of euphoria pulsing through my body. Every muscle in my body relaxed as my stomach spasmed and contracted. I nearly doubled over the sensations were so overwhelming. 

My thrusts slowed and each one sent more shivers up my spine, the way her insides tickled my head. When I pulled out and collapsed onto the bed next to her, she started to sit up, folding the blankets back, but I claimed her wrist, pulling her back into my arms. As if she’d all but given up, she didn’t protest, but she didn’t come willingly either. Her body was stiff, her face cold. She refused to make eye contact with me when I raised up over her and looked down, turning her face away. 

I brushed the blonde ringlets out of her eyes and kissed her cheek bone, then her jawline, then her ear, where I nibbled lightly as my still sensitive manhood pressed against her hip. “Now, didn’t I tell you you wanted that?” Crystal scooted away from me, but I pulled her back, wrapping one arm over her torso and a leg over hers. “If you’re a good girl we can go again in about ten minutes.” I scraped the scruff of my unshaven beard across her neck and felt her tense again. 

“Why?” Her voice was timid, a wild horse in a paddock broke and saddled. Her heart pounded in her chest; I could see the pulse in her neck. Her rigid body refused to be comforted but my arms would not leave her side. 

“I love you.”

She turned her face toward me, and her nostrils flared. I tried to understand what her eyes were telling me but try as I may their message escaped me. She spat in my face and I recoiled, wiping the spittle from my beard and letting her go free. Crystal stood and walked to the bathroom, closing the door behind herself as she went. And I lay there still giddy from our encounter, drifting off to sleep in our bed.