Leighton
I have no right to look at August this way. He and I were over long ago. Not when I had to leave in the dead of the night with orders never to contact him or anyone else I knew ever again, but when I realized I was pregnant with Sam and decided to still abide by those same rules. It was one thing to accept WITSEC’s rules in order to protect mine and my dad’s life, but that choice became a murky gray area when I bore August a son without informing him.
Which means I have no business turning August’s joy over being a donor match into anything else. Knowing we have a real shot at curing Sam’s disease should be enough for me.
But damn it… I’ve never stopped loving August. I love him as much today as I did years ago. And it’s hard not to notice how great he feels pressed against me. He has filled out—in all the right places—and it has been so long since a man touched me.
Almost ten years to be exact. The last time was in my childhood bedroom—with August—as we promised we’d be together forever while he’d been deep inside me.
Add that August just gave me the happiest news I could ever hope to receive to my overwhelming memories… and it equals up to my emotions and rationality being a jumbled hot mess right now.
I look up slowly—warily—and what I see on his face stuns me.
Pure desire. There isn’t a single fleck of recrimination or bitterness, even though he must feel those emotions toward me.
Immediately, yearning pools between my legs as memories of us hit me. Fueled by a near-hysterical gratitude that Sam now has a donor, my reaction is a recipe for all the wrong decisions.
When August’s mouth slams onto mine, I don’t regret it one bit. Maybe I will tomorrow, but not tonight.
Lust sizzles around us, seeming to cradle us in an electric cocoon as his tongue invades my mouth. If I open my eyes, I almost bet I’ll see brilliant sparks igniting—that’s how charged his kiss feels—but I don’t dare. I don’t want to break the spell or ruin one bit of this moment. Instead, I keep my lids scrunched tight and let myself get lost in the sensations.
August’s hands are everywhere. Roaming from my face, to my shoulder, then stroking my arm before wrapping his fingers around my throat for a breath-stealing instant. After a quick squeeze, he moves to pull me possessively against his chest. Whether time has dulled some memories, or else been really good to August, it seems he has filled out in other areas as well. He’s impossibly big—hard and throbbing—and I can’t help but rub wantonly against his erection.
He groans into my mouth. Where I want to smile triumphantly that I can elicit such a reaction from him, I can do nothing but gasp as I’m picked up and roughly tossed onto one of the beds. I bounce, the breath knocked out of me, but, before I can recover, my head starts to spin as August systematically strips me out of my clothes. It’s incredibly titillating, his look of almost feral possession when he yanks my tank over my head and exposes my breasts. Briefly, modesty strikes and I consider covering them, but I lose the opportunity when he quickly rips my sleep shorts down my legs, dragging my panties right along with them.
I’m naked, splayed on the bed, with August breathing heavily as he stares down. His gaze slowly roams over my body, and I wonder if he notices the stretchmarks I got from carrying his son. When he focuses on the area between my thighs, I practically combust as his hands frantically work to unbuckle his belt.
There’s an unholy light in August’s eyes, his jaw locked tight as if he’s fighting for a measure of control. I can’t help but be mesmerized by the way he slowly undoes his top button, then lowers his zipper past his monstrous erection. I get a glimpse of the elastic waistband of his black briefs before he reaches inside and pulls out his cock.
I melt into the bed at the sight. It’s dusky rose—slightly curved upward and mapped with a big vein along the underside. A bead of precum pearls on the tip, and my mouth waters. I have the insanely foolish urge to flip to my hands and knees, crawl across the mattress, and beg him for a taste.
But insecurity starts to set in because August doesn’t appear all that happy for a man with his dick in hand and a naked woman on the bed before him.
My legs start to slide toward each other, a warm blush rising up my chest and into my neck.
This was a bad idea.
“Don’t,” August growls so menacingly I instantly freeze. His eyes travel up my body, locking onto mine. “Don’t move.”
Head tipping down, he squeezes his eyes shut. His lips move silently, and I’m not sure if he’s having a discussion with himself or perhaps praying to God for guidance.
My heart starts a fearful drumming, but then August’s eyes open. Any doubt he may have been suffering is gone. Once again, yearning, need, and determination flashes across his face. Nothing is going to stop him now.
Always one to lead, the one to demand and show me the way, August grabs my ankles, gives a mighty pull, and yanks my ass to the edge of the bed. Before I can even wonder about his intentions, his mouth is between my legs. At first, major embarrassment to have him so intimately connected to me rushes over me. I wonder about stupid things—like how well-groomed I am, if I smell good, and if my taste is good enough for him. Struggling to remember how long ago I last showered, I wonder if I should be polite and say what he’s doing isn’t necessary?
Those beautiful, glorious moments of intimacy I’d had with him all those years ago fly out the window, essentially meaning nothing right now. I’m so overwhelmed that I can’t scrounge up a lick of confidence.
It’s a good thing August doesn’t have that problem. If anything, he has more than enough for the both of us. Even though I tentatively put my hands on his head and give it a tiny push, August still buries his face between my thighs with gusto. He licks and sucks away, slipping his fingers deep inside me he works at my clit so expertly—with such hunger—I feel myself starting to tighten up everywhere. My back arches off the bed, my hips lift, and I gyrate against his mouth. I swear I hear him chuckle, maybe even feel him shake his head, but then he’s gone, nothing but cool air blowing across my wet, sensitive flesh.
Barely getting my eyes open, I find August looming over me. How did my legs get spread so wide… and why does he suddenly look so freaking big?
With one hand pressed into the mattress, August uses the other to take his cock in hand. He dips his hips, pressing the tip right to my entrance. Blowing out a breath, he brings his eyes to mine and holds me captive. I want to smile and assure him everything is perfect, but then my eyes practically cross when he thrusts deeply into me.
I scream—not in pain but in pure fucking ecstasy—as he fills me up. August bottoms out, his pelvis pressed hard into mine.
Baring his teeth, he mutters, “Fuck… that feels good.”
If I could speak, I’d probably say something similar, but nothing seems to work. I can’t move. All I can do is lay there while impaled on his thick shaft, feeling pulses of pleasure take away every bit of my sanity.
Trapped beneath his weight, feeling the perfection of him inside me, I know I’d let him do anything he wanted to me. It’s been so long. We used to have the world… but then I hurt him by taking it all away.
If it gave him some measure of peace for all I’ve put him through, I’d let him take everything from me. Let him do his worst over and over again.
August’s hand moves from where he’d been gripping the base of his dick to wrap his arms around me—engulfing me in a cocoon of an embrace until I’m pressed chest to chest with him. It’s not an intimately romantic gesture. Rather, he wants to take away any chance of participation I might have. I’m tangled in his web, stuck on his cock, and completely submissive to him right now.
August starts to fuck me. A few slow, deep strokes that have me keening low in my throat. He’s so big that I’m stretched to capacity.
He pounds harder into me, the insides of my legs straining to accommodate him. His cock dominates me, his arms pinning me to him. He punches deeper and deeper, rough grunts coming from deep inside his chest with every stroke.
August presses his cheek to mine, his words guttural and claiming. “Always loved fucking this pussy.”
Shamefully, my body reacts, my nipples tightening over his crass words. I think they were meant to both compliment and belittle me at the same time. I can feel how much he likes what he’s doing, but it was a pointed reminder that I’m nothing more than a vessel to him.
Apparently, that doesn’t matter to my body. His dirty talk makes my blood sing. To my horror, a single, plaintive word slips free. “More.”
August growls viciously, hammering his cock into me. The headboard starts banging against the wall of the room next door that houses the man we’d woken up earlier. For the life of me, I can’t even find it in me to care.
Hell, part of me is actually turned on by the fact the man can hear me getting my brains fucked out.
August repeatedly slams into me, the slapping sounds of skin on skin loud as his every stroke edges me closer and closer to an orgasm.
But then, he slows. His arms around me loosen slightly, and he lifts his head so he can peer down. He fucks me by unhurriedly stroking in, pausing to grind against me, then leisurely withdrawing before repeating the process.
“Just like last time we were together,” he says, but there’s a disconnect between his words and his tone. It’s flat, not sentimental at all. Despite the lack of emotion, his next statement both thrills and terrifies me. “I’m a different man these days, Leighton.”
“How so?” I whisper, only to moan as he presses in deep once again.
He grins, but not in a friendly way. It proclaims he knows things I don’t—and when I find them out, I’m going to be a different woman, too.
“I think I’ll show you,” he muses.
And once again, he’s gone, leaving me empty.
After I process the loss, I watch as he moves all the pillows stacked near the headboard to a pile in the middle of the bed. He even rises to grab the ones from the other bed, and I’m fascinated by the thick length of him sticking out from between the teeth of his zipper. He hasn’t even removed his pants.
I have no clue why all the pillows are now beside me. Suddenly, I’m wondering if suffocation is part of his game plan.
That would still be an unknown as he picks me up, flips me over, and tosses me stomach down onto the pile. He rearranges them, even fluffing them up. Each movement tips my ass up higher into the air.
Roughly, he spreads my legs apart, then I feel his jean-clad legs harsh against my skin. He palms my ass cheeks, using his thumbs to pull them apart.
As my face flushes hot with embarrassment, his cock presses into me from behind. He kneads the muscles of my ass while he fucks me from behind.
Christ… he feels even bigger from this angle—my torso angled down and my cheek pressed into the mattress. Peeking over my shoulder, I feel a hot rush at how dirty it looks with my ass up in the air and him thrusting into me. August stares at my ass in fascination. It’s almost as if he’s in a dream-like haze when he sticks his forefinger into his mouth. I can’t turn away, hypnotized, as he rolls his tongue over the digit, thoroughly wetting it before pulling it from his mouth.
What in the hell does he plan on doing with…
The thought dissipates as I’m blinded by stars. Literally thousands of pinpoints of light obliterate my vision when he presses his finger deep into my ass.
It’s too much for me. His thick cock in my pussy, his finger lodged in my ass, and the pure filth of the scene it creates all combine to make me explode like a cannon.
I screech out my climax, feeling my ass mercilessly tighten around his finger. My pussy ripples as wave after wave of the most sinful, sensational, and mind-blowing orgasm rockets up and down my spine. My toes curl, my back arches and I shamefully moan out August’s name.
Not sure what exactly sets him off, but he slams into me once more, grunting out his own release. That devious little finger slips out of me, his hands going to my hips to hold me still. He grinds against me, as if trying to purge every last drop of himself as deep into me as he possibly can.
His body collapses, his weight pushing me into my pillow mountain before he rolls us to our sides. We’re both gasping for air. While I can’t speak for August, I feel deliciously broken in a way that makes me not ever want to be put back together.
We lay side by side, his cock still partially in me from behind. I can feel his lower abdomen, still covered by his t-shirt, against my back, and his breath on my neck.
Tensely, I wait—for words or even some level of affection. Even just an arm around my waist to pull me in a little closer.
He holds still, doing nothing but inhaling and exhaling.
I can’t stand the silence. Deciding to try to extend an olive branch, I’m grateful I can’t see his face right now or else I’d probably chicken out. “I’m glad we reconnected, August. Not only for Sam, but also because I’ve missed you.”
Yes, sex has made me sentimental and mushy.
Foolish as well.
August doesn’t reply.
It makes me angry. I start to turn so I can face him, but he merely rises and climbs off the bed. I grab a pillow and cover myself, turning to him as he zips up. When he buckles his belt, I watch silently, but he refuses to meet my eyes.
“Can you at least say something?” I demand, my anger warring with a sudden urge to cry.
Arrogantly, August deems to give me his attention, coolly appraising the way I’m now covering my nudity with a pillow. He shakes his head, an almost vindictive expression twisting his features with something like sympathy. “I stopped missing you a long damn time ago.”
God, that hurts. I don’t know if it’s true, but his words make a direct hit on my heart.
He waves at me… at the bed. “This was simply the emotion of the moment getting out of hand. Don’t get me wrong… it was great. But it didn’t mean anything. Understand?”
I nod dumbly. “Okay.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow so we can make arrangements to get Sam here,” he says, pivoting away. He doesn’t even glance back, but merely talks while striding to the door. “I’ve already arranged transportation.”
And without another word—about what we just shared or how he intends to transport Sam to Vegas for treatment—August walks out the door and shuts it firmly behind himself.