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Always and Never

By: nerd4music



Author's Note: I'M BACK! Here's my latest. It's a one shot thing, so enjoy. This one took me awhile. It was very emotional to write, and perhaps a bit too honest for the period I was going through. You might call this story my therapy. It certainly saved me from writing harsh words to a certain someone. You know who you are. Enjoy, and thanks for being so patient. You guys rock my world. It was all the emails with the kind words and 'where the hell are yous' that kept me from giving up writing altogether. Truly, you all inspire me. With love, n4m.

********

She was daydreaming again. Her back was to the door, looking out at the paneled glass window. She could hear the noise of the city below, the honk of cars, the voices of people going about their daily activities. Yes, she could hear it, but she wasn't really listening. For the third time in the last twenty minutes, her mind was wandering. Her overactive imagination was once again focused on only one thing: him.

"Hey, are you alright?"

The trance was broken, and she snapped to attention. "What?" She stared at the girl standing in her eye line. She couldn't have been more than twenty-two and dressed in that bohemian indie fashion that was so popular with today's youth. She couldn't understand what was with kids today, dressing like bag ladies and hobos. The girl bit her lip, uncomfortable with the scrutiny and shifted from one yellow ballet flat covered foot to the other. 

The woman smiled. She wasn't much older than her assistant, but twenty-seven felt like a lifetime. The girl ran a pale hand through her dark hair, cut in a pixie-like fashion with long bangs that swept low into her heavily lined cobalt colored eyes. The woman supposed she would have been a beauty if it wasn't for the eight pounds of black eye liner and buckets of lip gloss. Girls today. Didn't know fuck-all about makeup. 

"I'm sorry Laura," the woman said. "I was just day dreaming." She noticed the girl's face light up at the sound of her name. From the looks of it, it appeared she believed no one in the office knew who she was.

"It's okay. I just came in to let relay a message. Your three o'clock appointment with the Robertson couple is canceled and Mrs. Torres said she'll see you for dinner tonight."

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. She thought he would have at least left her a message. A sentence, anything. "Thanks Laura. Tell Lucia...I mean, Mrs. Torres that I'll see her at Tuscany's. Seven o'clock."

Laura nodded her head. "Okay, will do." She walked briskly to the door before whipping around, snapping her thin fingers. "Oh I totally forgot. There was another message."

Her heart skipped and her throat suddenly felt dry. "Oh really? Who from?" She hoped her voice sounded normal. 

The girl's nose wrinkled in concentration. "Shit, I can't remember. But I do know what the message said. Today at one-thirty, the usual place."

The flutter in her chest picked up its pace. It was him. She felt foolish for getting so worked up but she couldn't help it. He needed to see her. Pulling herself together, she calmly eyed her assistant. "Thank you, Laura. I'm going to take the rest of the day off. You should too."

Laura smiled, happy she could leave to return home to her guitar. "Wow, that's awesome. Do you need anything else before I go?"

A little bit of fucking willpower, she thought silently. "No. That'll be all."

********

Her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, her brown knuckles turning several shades lighter as slender fingers wrapped snug around the leather. Caramel eyes with tiny flecks of green stared blankly ahead, focusing on nothing in particular. 

This is the last time, she thought. The last time. The last time. She repeated those words over and over again, the syllables becoming foreign in her brain. Maybe the more she thought it, the more real it would be. 

Maybe then, she'd actually believe it. 

A long, low sigh filled the expansive silence of the car. She was supposed to be strong. It wasn't supposed to be this way. She was a modern woman; Miss Independent. She knew how to take care of herself, never needed a man for much. So why then, why was it possible for him to reduce her to a quivering romance novel cliché? What kind of woman was she, letting him use her like a common whore time and again?

A woman who secretly loves it, she thought. Yes, she loved it. She loved that he made her feel reckless, exalted in the sensations his cock made as he plunged mercilessly into her pussy. She adored the delicious dirtiness she felt every time she slid her lips on his member, slick with her juices and she secretly smiled at the taste of her on him. 

She was his to use as he pleased. And he took full advantage of it. 

Her thoughts turned to the first time she met him... 

********

The Cloverleaf Theatre was packed for the 10 o'clock premiere showing of the latest scary movie. As a horror movie buff, she was pretty excited; the film received rave reviews and she was amped for the carnage. There was only one problem. Lucia, her business partner and best friend was currently running a good ten minutes late. 

She checked her watch anxiously; it was 9:55. She checked her phone but didn't see a missed call. Dammit Lucia, she cursed silently. She hated when people were late, especially when it involved movies or restaurants. She couldn't bear the idea of other people thinking she was eating or watching a movie alone. Lucia wasn't a huge horror fan, but one of her favorite television actors was in starring in the movie so she decided to give it a go. 

The lights in the theatre flickered, and people started to take their seats.. Huffing loudly, she opened her phone once more and typed a quick text. "Where Are You? Show's about to start."

She bit down on her bottom lip, a nervous habit since childhood. When her phone buzzed loudly, she picked it up quickly. "Sorry babe. Maria's got chicken pox. Gotta take her to the emergency room."

Perfect. Now she'd have to watch the movie alone. She folded her arms and tried not to let her irritation mar the movie experience. 

"Excuse me, is this seat taken?"

Glancing up, she connected with a pair of smoldering eyes. They were an odd hue, a nebulous mixture of green and brown. It was a scintillating pond color that made her curious. 

She realized she was staring and averted her eyes. She tried to ignore the blush heating her cheeks. 

"Seriously, is this seat taken?"

"I'm sorry. Excuse my rudeness. Please sit down." She moved her purse from the chair and settled it on her lap. 

He gave her a grateful smile and sat down. "Packed in here tonight, isn't it? Who knew so many people wanted to see a remake of an already great horror film?"

She turned to him and was once more captivated by those alluring eyes. He was devastatingly handsome. She had heard that phrase in an old movie when she was ten and it stuck with her. It seemed like the ultimate compliment for a man's looks. There was gorgeous, and hot, but nothing compared to a devastatingly handsome man. 

"Are you a fan of horror movies?" she asked. 

"Since I was a kid. The Evil Dead series was my favorite."

"Nice choice."

"And what was yours?"

"Rosemary's Baby."

He arched a slender dark brown in surprise and she couldn't help but notice how perfectly proportioned his looks were. His jaw was strong and angular, giving him a forceful appearance. His bottom lip was plump and his upper was a perfect bow that curved in an almost impish fashion when he spoke. This one was cocky. 

"Rosemary's Baby? An innocent woman corrupted by Lucifer. That's a surprising choice."

"It scared the hell out of me when I was younger," she said. "The thought of your body being taken over by such an evil presence and being powerless to stop it. It's like a total loss of control of one's identity."

His gaze darkened, and she couldn't help the shudder that traveled up her spine. Something about his stare...it was unnerving and yet she couldn't look away. 

"Interesting you view it that way. But see, I don't believe Rosemary was as innocent as you think. There was a part of her that was clearly intrigued by the dark side." He leaned in closer, and she could smell his cologne. It was a decidedly manly scent with a hint of lemon. 

Her fingers tingled and she felt a sudden urge to reach out and stroke his chin. His lips curled into a smile, as if he could read her thoughts. She felt the warm touch of his skin when his fingers brushed against her bare arm. "Rosemary could play innocent all she wanted, but in the end, she had to follow her instincts and succumb. Not because she was forced, but because she desired it." 

Her breathing became labored as his fingers gripped her arm, the soft caramel skin practically burning from his touch. The theater lights dimmed fully and in the glow of the movie screen, his murky green eyes shone most brilliantly. "Sooner or later, we always give in to the dark."

********

The sound of her cell phone, ringing idily in the passenger seat moved the thoughts of him out of her mind. Absently, she picked up the phone and stared at the ID. Of course it was him. She flipped the phone open and pressed the piece to her ear. 

"I see you," he said quietly. Her body pulsed hungrily at the sound of his voice, the timbre so low and masculine. The man simply smoldered; he had the power to soak her panties just with a few words. Another reason to stick around.

She was silent; a small part of her hoped if she was quiet enough he would hang up, thus giving her the leverage to leave. 

But she knew that wasn't going to happen. He wouldn't have to say a word, and she would still comply. He would get what he wanted; he always did. 

"Why are you sitting in the car? Come in here." 

She could hear his breath catch in his throat. He was already stroking himself. He loved to do that while on the phone with her. The rare times he called her at work, she would imagine him seated in his high-rise office, pants undone, a ragged breath coming out slight and sharp as he fondled his balls, demanding she tell her plans for him the next time they were together. She loved to hear him come; she knew every note by heart: the growls, the rumbling tenor, the sigh of complete satisfaction as his hot seed spilled inside her. 

It was addictive, a source of womanly pride knowing that he got hard from her touch, or from the sight of her. A hard dick from a good looking man was the equivalent of a pat on the back; a job well done. 

"Baby," she heard him moan and her hips rocked involuntarily at the sound. Traitorous body. "Come inside, please. Don't make me beg."

She could hear the slight edge in his soft words. It was all an act. He would make her pay, this she knew. His love came like a two-sided coin; soft and sensuous and rough and deep. She loved it all. 

Yes, despite everything she loved the way he treated her. It made her feel like those college nights all over again, when she drove around at three in the morning, music blaring through the speakers of her Jeep Cherokee. Those nights, with nothing but burger wrappers, endless cups of cappuccino, digital cameras, and best friends...those nights she felt reckless and wanton. 

That same feeling, that realization of knowing she was alive, here and now, she felt the same way when she was with him. Those few hours she spent writhing underneath him as he ripped furious pleasure from her body meant so much to her. 

She would give in. 

She always did.

********

The lights in the theater slowly came on as the credits started to roll. She stood up and stretched, yawning slightly. Definitely a good movie. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the man watching her. Actually to be specific he was watching as her red silk halter top rose with her movements, giving him a glimpse of the taut bronze skin hidden underneath. 

His eyes flared, the murky green shining even more so. The tip of his pink tongue darted out quickly, wetting his kissable lips and she swore a feral grin followed after. The way he looked at her, it was intimate, as if he already knew what she tasted like. It was positively possessive. 

"Did you enjoy the film?" he asked calmly. 

She nodded. "I did. The ending was a bit typical, especially for today's Hollywood. Is it possible to see anyone survive in a horror movie anymore? What is with these grim endings?"

He grinned at her, lips pulling over white teeth and it sent a shiver down her spine. Dammit, this man was trouble. That grin, the way his eyes seem to glow...he was too sexy for words. "It makes it a bit more realistic don't you think?"

She shrugged, attempting nonchalance. "I suppose." Reaching down, she grabbed for her black Balenciaga bag. "Well, I should get out of here. I think they want to clean up," she said as she eyed the trio of bored teenagers wearing bright blue vests and bow ties. They were holding brooms and butlers and shooting them impatient glances. 

She hadn't realized when everyone left. They were the only two in the theater. The credits stopped rolling and the lights were fully on. She wondered where the time went. 

He stood up, cracking his knuckles. She finally took all of him in. He was tall and broad shouldered, wearing a t-shirt with a long v-neck, the color a deep azure that showcased a well-defined collarbone. 

His dark denim jeans were clearly top of the line, slung low on his hips in an almost model-like fashion. She looked down at his feet' he was wearing flat boots with a square toe; she could tell right off he was definitely designer. 

His rags, coupled with that intoxicating and manly cologne was sending her body into a frenzy. When she looked into his eyes, she saw her reflection. He had been watching her peruse his body and she felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment. "I-I'm sorry," she said.

"Don't be. Do you want to go for drinks?"

His blunt tone surprised her. No pick up line, just straight to the point. It was unnerving, yet refreshing. Still, there was something...sinister about his motives. As an advertising rep, she spent the majority of her days reading people and their faces. She could usually pinpoint a person after five minutes of a first meeting. But him, he was different. 

He was unpredictable. 

She couldn't resist that. "Okay," she said. 

His smile was brilliant. "Perfect. I know just the place." He got to his feet and shouldered into a dark blue blazer. Holding his arm out, he turned to face her. His eyes, dammit she thought. 

Oh yeah, he was definitely trouble.

"You look great in red."

She followed him to the place in her car, her hands trembling a little as she gripped the wheel. It was the thrill of utter excitement, the joy of the unknown. She had never done something like this before, never picked up a man at a movie theater. The movies were where established couples when on dates; it was definitely not a singles bar. 

Plus, there was that whole slightly baleful thing he had going on. She couldn't put her finger on it, but he seemed a little devious. She'd have to listen to the clues. 

His car, a black vintage Porsche turned into the parking lot of a place that screamed top shelf. The building was one story and brick front. A cobblestone walkway led up to a large oak door that looked heavy. The place resembled someone's home more than a bar. 

She pulled her raspberry colored Cadillac CTS into the empty space next to his. He was out already, leaning casually against his gorgeous car. She should have known by his clothes he would drive a car like that. 

"Where's the Aston Martin," she said, half-joking. 

He stared at her, lips turned up in amusement. 

"In the garage next to my vintage Harley. I thought it would be too ostentatious for a night at the movies."

"Somehow I don't think you're joking."

His hand reached out, fingers stroking her cheek softly and she couldn't help but nuzzle into his touch. "Smart girl," he said, the same quiet forcefulness in his tone. 

Once inside, she noticed her initial assumptions about the place were correct. The interior décor was exactly like a low-key but very pricey bar in some rich person's home. Circular wooden tables made of heavy oak were scattered all around the large room with wing-backed chairs striped cream, burgundy, gold, and navy in front. 

One entire wall of the room was covered by a large highly polished wooden counter that served as the bar. There was one long row of stools covered in the same striped pattern cushion that matched the chairs. 

This place screamed expensive, she thought. The lighting was pleasant, bright but not too bright. He led her over to a secluded area, sitting down on a large leather Chesterfield sofa near a giant fireplace. 

"Do you have a drink preference?" he asked. He snapped his fingers and it seemed a tie-clad waiter appeared instantly. 

"Anything but vodka. Had a bad experience in undergrad." She wrapped her white summer cardigan around her shoulders as she crossed her legs. 

He smiled at the waiter. "Two Warm Apple pies," he said. 

"Right away, sir. Should I put it on your tab?"

"Please." He waited until the server left before he turned back to her. "So how do you like the place?"

"Um, it's a little austere for my tastes." She chided herself, wishing she would stop speaking before thinking. He must think me uncouth, she thought.

Instead of being insulted, his head threw back into the most humorously sensual laugh she'd ever heard. The sound of his deep baritone sent an excited tingle down her spine. "Don't worry, gorgeous. I'm not offended. Although I should be, since I own the place."

Her cheeks flushed. "Oh now I feel worse. I apologize."

His hand rested on hers. "No need. It is a bit stuffy. It was one of the places my father built over four years ago. It's in dire need of an update, but he liked it so much I wanted to keep it the same. Before he built this, it was nothing but an empty car lot."

She noticed the accent, the lazy way he said certain vowels. "Originally from the Northeast?"

He nodded. "Picked up on the accent, huh?"

"It is quite noticeable."She paused for a moment. 

"Wait a minute. Aren't you..."

"Yes," he said quickly, cutting off her sentence. 

"How did you figure it out?"

"You own this building, and come from the Northeast. There's only one prominent family like that around here."

His gaze was penetrating, and it was almost unnerving. He was so intense; it almost made her uncomfortable. "Well, you know a little about me. Now tell me something about you. I'll spare you the tired cliché of 'what's a pretty girl like you doing at the movies all by herself'. That shit never works."

She smiled. His blunt demeanor was really impressive. "I run my own advertising firm."

"Ahh, beautiful and smart. I like it already. So Miss Independent, what do you do for fun, besides make commercials and watch horror films?"

She giggled, running her slender fingers through her hair. He was making her feel like a damn schoolgirl. "Apparently I let strange men pick me up at the movies and whisk me away to overly shmancy bars."

"Well, I saw you were a woman of fine taste. A creature like you couldn't be wasted on some back alley dive bar or some trendy scene place."

She smiled as the waiter returned with their drinks. "What a strange compliment," she said as the young man set down the tall pewter mugs in front of them. Her hazel eyes stared at him curiously. "What in the world is this? Mead?"

He laughed. "Ahh, milady. 'Tis not what you imagine. Take a sip."

She grasped the mug, the liquid making the pewter cozily warm in her soft hands. There was a little bit of steam wafting from the top, mingling with the delicious scent of something apple. She took a minute sip, letting the warm concoction slide down her throat before letting out a slight moan. Licking her full lips, she partook again this time sipping generously. It was like being wrapped in an old cashmere blanket, sensuous and familiar. It warmed her all over. 


Always and Never Ch. 02



Author's Note: So here it is, nearly six months later. They've been six hellish months, let me tell you. I honestly couldn't write an ending for this story when my own felt so unfinished. And my ending is still nebulous, but at least in the fiction world I can create the resolution I desperately crave in my own life. So I hope you enjoy the end to Rachel's story. It took me a long time to get here, but I thank everyone for sticking it out. 

Happy Reading, 

Sienna H.

********

His breath came in heavy pants; the heated snorts of desire tickling her skin, threatening to scorch. Her back arched in pleasure even as her heart told her to resist. His thrusts became deeper as he lifted her leg over his shoulder, his teeth nipping the soft skin. 

"Tell me what I want to hear" he rasped as he slowly rocked his cock deeper into her wetness. 

Rachel moaned, her fingers clawing the sheets underneath her sweat slicked body. This wasn't supposed to be happening. She was supposed to be stronger than this. She was supposed to stay away from him. But one phone call had sent her running to Room 8 of the Sunshine Motel once more. 

Two hours later she'd stop counting the number of times she'd come, lost track of the many ways his tongue and cock brought her to massive heights of pleasure. Her body practically vibrated each time he made contact, each time his fingers ran sensuous trails down her nearly spent limbs. 

Fuck, she couldn't give this up. So maybe she would tell him what he wanted to hear, that she wanted only him, that she would always be his. Because the more she said it, the more she was inclined to believe. 

His hands clenched tightly on her upper arms as he started to pick up speed. Rachel wrapped her long legs around his waist, her heels digging into his cheeks as he pumped harder. It bordered on perverse pleasure and slight pain. She wondered when he would let up. She loved tender Brendan. Lately he had been anything but. Their recent sessions had been long and rough. He wore her out, twisting her body, making the sweat drip tiny rivulets. He would barely let her come down from an orgasm before he was flipping her over, spreading her legs wider. 

She longed for the days when he would take her into his arms, cradling her to him as he slid slowly inside her, his lips caressing hers gently, his hands tangled in her curls. Those were her favorite; the times she thought he was truly hers. When she didn't feel like his designer whore. 

"Brendan, slow down baby" she cooed between gasps. "Take it slow. Please."

He continued as if he didn't hear her, his cock ramming harder into her pussy. Rachel hissed, her hands clenching his upper arms as slight shocks of pain rippled through her system. "Brendan please."

Brendan looked down, his eyes that nebulous pond color. She remembered when those eyes smiled warmly at her as he lifted her from the bed, carrying her into the bathroom with the sunken tub, where he would fill it with steaming hot water and wash her before climbing in to ravish her once more. Those were the times he looked and acted like a man in love and for a few hours she could pretend that she was Mrs. Brendan Doyle. 

But this, this was different. He wasn't his usual dominant self. No, he was bordering on cruel. 

Rachel clenched her pelvic muscles, squeezing his cock tighter inside her. Brendan groaned loudly. "Oh gorgeous. Fuck, I think I'm going to..." He shuddered and she felt the hot liquid shoot inside her. His face went slack, melting with absolute pleasure before he fell onto the bed beside her. 

Rachel couldn't bring herself to look at him, unsure of what just happened. It was the first time, in their whole relationship that she hadn't come when he did. She squeezed her legs together and tried not to think about soreness that was sure to come later on. 

She felt the bed dip and she felt him get up and start to dress. She couldn't believe it. He wasn't even going to stay and rest for a little. She wanted to talk with him. Things were so different from before. Rachel couldn't pinpoint what it was exactly, but slowly she could feel him pulling away from her. 

As he slid on his jeans, she couldn't help but feel irritated; at him, but mostly at herself. She couldn't keep doing this anymore. This has to stop, she thought. 

"This again?" she heard him say with a sigh. 

Rachel looked up. He was staring down at her, his v-neck shirt in hand. She realized she must have spoken aloud. "What do you mean this again?"

"This pointless rant you do about leaving. I don't know why we always have to get into this."

"Oh, I don't know" she sniped. "Maybe I just realize when I'm not wanted and figure I'd cut out while I can. Isn't that what all good whores do?"

His full lips pulled into a half-smirk. "You said it, gorgeous. Not me."

Rachel scoffed. "God, Brendan. I can't keep playing these games anymore. I keep telling myself it's the last time; that I won't give in to you. But I can't stop. And you know that."

"Oh, I count on it" he said smoothly. His shirt was on now and he shrugged into his black blazer. 

"Look Rachel, if you really wanted to leave you would. Plain and simple. But you don't. You like what we do, love the way I make you mine. You're a sucker for pain babycakes. The requisite victim in your own Shakespearean tragedy. And that's why you'll never leave."

Rachel felt the hot tears welling in her eyes, but she refused to cry. "Why do you do this? You could be so good to me. Why do you have to hurt me like this?" The questions sounding pointless even in her head; but she couldn't stop them from spewing forth. 

His green eyes blazed with the familiar emerald fire as he stepped towards her. "Because you need me to play the role of the villain. So I'll play my part, baby. And I'll have fun doing it. You know how it was the moment we started this thing. I haven't changed, and neither have the rules. You can either play along and give yourself to me, or just get out. We're not in a relationship. You aren't my wife."

Rachel stared up at him, his harsh words sinking in, shredding what was left of her heart. So this is what it took; he had to break her down fully. Somehow she would recognize that it's all part of the game. She was blinded, her vision clouded with fruitless ambition and dumb hope that she could tame him, that she was up to the challenge of making a man like Brendan Doyle love her. That was clearly wishful thinking. He would never change. 

Slowly, she got up from the bed. Methodically, she dressed, barely registering her fingers buttoning her shirt, sliding on her jeans. She could feel his eyes as they followed her but she refused to meet his gaze. As she picked up her purse, she finally turned to him. There was so much she could have said in that moment; how much he hurt her, what an asshole he was, how she deserved better. But it was pointless; her words would fall on deaf ears. 

She couldn't bring herself to speak. With one last look, she turned and opened the door. With one light slam, she closed off Room 8 of the Sunshine Motel. 

********

Rachel woke to the sound of thunder clapping loudly. Her eyes flew open, blurring for a bit in the graying light of the dim room. The red numbers on the digital clock next to the bed gave off a menacing glare, reminding her it was still early; 7:30. A loud sigh filled the quietness of the room; she could never sleep late after a night of drinking.

Heavy lids lifted drowsily, revealing reddened hazel eyes. She stared out the window, glimpsing the dun colored Sunday sky as large raindrops started to fall. Close your eyes and try to get back to sleep was the only sentence her alcohol-soaked brain could form without the frivolity of meaningless thought process. 

A surge of white anger shot hotly through her veins, making the room feel even more stifling and she turned from the window, the slender curve of her back left bare in the slight heat of the room when her long brown legs twisted the sheets in her irritation. It was too early to be so emotional, she thought as her body fitfully tried to return to its previous state of uncomfortable slumber. 

It was no use. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face. And when she did dream, the mistakes from the past five months were in continuous loop, playing non-stop in her head. She wished like hell for a chance to do it all over. But it was pointless; wishing did nothing but make her miserable. 

She longed for sleep, the only place it seemed where she could make things right. In her dreams, things were perfect. Brendan was loving, attentive, and caring. The perfect boyfriend. And completely hers. 

But shit, that's all it was. A damn dream. 

Sitting up groggily, she staggered to the window before pulling it up, not caring if her nude body was exposed to the neighborhood. The sound of the rain was louder now and tiny droplets landed on the windowsill. The room became cooler and she breathed a sigh of temporary relief. 

The bed groaned as her weight returned to it, her back lying against the cool white sheets. Maybe she could sleep now. She needed to. No, what she needed was courage, and a double fucking dose of it. 

Drinking at a time like this. It was stupid, yes. But it seemed like the only way to dull the throbbing ache of regret that pulsed in her veins and beat loudly against her temple. Being this unhappy was uncomfortable and draining. She needed release. 

She needed him. 

He was the only one who could make things right, make her right. Make her whole. Hah, clearly. 

She was pathetic, pining over him. It made her sick, the constant worrying and wondering what he was up to, why he hadn't called for almost three days. He was angry with her, she thought. Angry because she hadn't spoken to him that night after the Sunshine Motel incident. It was a rare moment of bravery. She needed time to herself, to sort things out so she ignored his texts, his phone calls. It made her feel empowered, strong. 

Finally, the upper hand was hers. It wasn't until the second day of no contact that she realized she was right back where she started—on the losing end. Foolish, she was to think she could have beaten him at his own game. It was always his way. Always. 

And so she drank, because she was depressed and it was the only way to cope with the surge of helplessness consuming her thoughts, making her head swim. Something had to give. She needed to make sense of things. This situation was beginning to take its toll on her. Rachel didn't know how much longer she could go on like this. 

Her love for Brendan was like a disease, spreading quickly, poisoning her heart. Slowly but surely, it was killing her. 

In her drunken state, she couldn't help but think of his touch; she was only human, after all. She craved that feeling of closeness. She dared her mind to think back to better times, the feel of his thick cock pushing inside her. A small shiver weaved a jagged path down her spine, making her whole body shudder. She could still hear his voice, the low timbre making her melt. His tone was forceful, the rolling sounds of his Boston accent sending deliciously sinful pulses to the most secret part of her body.  

Her hand traced the ghost path his tongue would make, tickling the soft nape of her neck, teasing the generous swell of her breasts before reaching the sensitive nipples, dark capped and begging to be sucked. 

Her fingers were his, sliding down her generous curves, tracing the tight cinch where hips met waistline before dipping down to stroke the silken folds of her pussy. She was aroused, the wetness coating her fingertips. When she slid two fingers inside, she sighed. It wasn't him, but it felt good enough. 

"That's right" she could almost hear him say. "Touch yourself for me, Gorgeous."

Her back arched as she gently bucked her hips. Her fingers were sliding with ease. She tried to focus on her fantasy, trying to picture his eyes, the way his voice rose and fell, the unabashed desire in his words when he said...

"You like touching yourself."

"Yes," she answered aloud. 

"Mmm," she could hear him moan. His voice was ringing in her ears. "You look so pretty right now, baby. Don't you wish that was my cock inside you?"

She moaned, her free hand reaching up to pinch her nipple. She twisted the bud tightly, relishing in the pleasure/pain sensation. Her body trembled with her rough actions. This is how she liked it, how he wanted it. The only way it could be. 

"Tell me Rachel," the ghost voice whispered. 

"Yes," she gasped out. "I want you so bad, Brendan." Her thumb grazed her clit and she bit her lip in pleasure. "I want you to fuck me."

"Slip another finger inside, baby. Open up that tight little hole for me."

Rachel complied, sliding a third finger inside, feeling her pussy clench around them. "Oooh," she moaned. "Oh Brendan."

"You want to come for me, baby?"

"Yes," she said breathlessly.

"What does my little girl want?"

She was fucking herself harder now, twisting her nipples tighter, her fingers plunging deeper. She was close, so fucking close. She could feel his breath in her ear and it made her shiver. "Make me come, Brendan. I need it so bad."

"Come for me, Work that sweet pussy like I know you know how."

"Ahh," she cried. Her muscles tensed as her orgasm hit. She whimpered loudly, her toes arched in pleasure. She felt it all over, the whole body spasm making her a bit disoriented. As she slowly tried to come down, she heard his voice chuckle. 

"That's my good girl. My gorgeous girl."

She gulped air, finding it suddenly hard to breathe. Her fingers slid out of her warmth, the sticky wetness growing cool in the exposed air. She was still shaking, a shudder running through her body that had nothing to do with post-orgasmic euphoria. 

The emotions were overwhelming: shame, pleasure, anger, love. It was sensory overload. The tears began to fall. She was shaking harder now as she covered her face with her hands. She could still smell her essence on her fingers as she rolled onto her side, her legs curled close to her chest in a fetal position. 

She was losing her grip.

********

"Rachel? Rachel? Hey! Get up!"

A low groan rumbled from her lips. She was dreaming. She had to be. She could have sworn she heard Lucia's voice, although why she'd be dreaming about her best friend, she'd never know. 

Now it didn't feel like a dream. Someone was actually poking her. Angrily, she swiped at the hand and rolled over. She heard Lucia chuckle. 

"Get up, you lazy bitch."

Groggily, Rachel opened a hazel eye. She saw Lucia glaring down at her, hands on her wide hips. She was clad in bright pink sweatpants with a matching zip-up hoodie. Her heavy dark brown hair was slicked back into a high ponytail. She was way too brightly dressed for a Sunday. And what fucking time was it? 

"What time is it?" Rachel croaked. 

Lucia huffed. "Nearly one-thirty."

Rachel groaned. "Shit, Luce. I'm sorry." It was their usual routine; every Sunday they'd go for brunch at Mae's, a local diner that was famous for its strawberry pancakes. Just thinking about the fluffy golden hotcakes was enough to rouse her from the bed. Wrapping the sheet around her nakedness, she yawned. Sleeping late had never been her forte. She was an early riser, never going past nine o'clock. And on a Sunday, too. 

Her Mama would be ashamed, especially since she drank heavy the night before and didn't even go to church the next day. "Imma take back that damn key I gave you." Her head was throbbing, and it felt like there was a metal band playing a kickass solo behind her eyes. 

Lucia raised a surprised eyebrow. "Mama, what happened last night? I come in and there's a bottle of Stoli on the table. You haven't drank vodka since sophomore year."

Rachel groaned again. The Vodka debacle of sophomore year. How could she forget? It was days before her 20th birthday when she, Lucia, and a group of her girlfriends decided to have a night out on the town. Before leaving the girls surprised Rachel with a bottle of Absolut as a birthday gift. They pre-gamed in the dorm room Rachel shared with Lucia, giggling over "breaking the alcohol rules" as their hall was a dry dorm. They drank shot after shot, toasting Rachel until she could barely stand up. 

After the bottle was empty they walked to the club, tottering on spiked black heels. At the bar, male admirers kept plying them with alcohol and Rachel, not to seem like a baby, accepted. It was then she realized that she really was the only one who was wasted. But she was having too much fun to care, until she was dancing with a random guy who decided it would be cool to twirl her around. It was all downhill from there. Literally. She fell, puked all over her new Betsey Johnson dress and had to be carried out of the club by the bouncers. 

The next morning, she woke up still reeking of stale vodka and vomit. She questioned a suspiciously guilty-faced Lucia who confessed that she, along with the other girls had been pouring water into their glasses, after the first round of shots. Rachel had essentially downed an entire bottle of vodka singlehandedly. 

It was then she swore never to touch the stuff. Last night, she broke that promise. Vodka was the only thing guaranteed to fuck her up beyond belief. And that was exactly what she wanted, to be numb to everything. 

"Rachel? Are you even listening to me?"

Her eyes once again focused on Lucia. Truthfully, she'd forgotten she was even there. "Check" she said while nodding. "Stoli on the table. Liquor bad."

"Why were you drinking?"

"Wanted to see if I could stomach the vodka after all these years."

Lucia sniffed. "Damn. You smell like a hobo. Why don't you take a quick shower and then we'll head to Mae's? After some food in your belly, you can explain why you're acting like a goddamn fool."

********

Twenty minutes later, they were at Mae's, sitting in their usual corner booth. Rachel took a minute sip from the cup of black coffee nestled in her hands. She didn't even realize they were shaking slightly until Lucia chimed in. 

"Okay, seriously what is wrong? You're off."She paused. "It's him, isn't it?"

Rachel looked up in surprise. Lucia never mentioned Brendan. Ever. She knew they were together, knew the particulars, but never really wanted to talk about it. And now here she was, bringing to light everything Rachel wanted to keep private. But there was a small part of her that yearned not to carry the burden of hopelessness and regret all alone. "Luce, I..."

"You know, you can act like a tough-as-nails broad all you want but don't forget I know you."

Rachel stared, hoping the look on her face was more withering than pathetic. "What are you talking about?"

Lucia waved her hand, shooing away her words. 

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. Don't play dumb. It doesn't become you. The vodka, the distant stares...this shit is all because of him. Now I've held my tongue because despite me being your best friend and going through more shit in the past nine-almost-ten years I didn't say anything as you monumentally fucked up your life for the past five months. It's not enough that you are knowingly messing around with a married man, but even worse, you're involved with someone who doesn't give a shit about you. I'm not trying to be a bitch. I'm just trying to be real. This shit...give it the fuck up, Rach. Leave now with at least some of your dignity."

This was too heavy, especially on an empty stomach. There was a pregnant pause as the waitress brought their food. Rachel sat in silence, staring at the stack of golden strawberry pancakes with the butter melting just the way she liked. Her stomach suddenly felt bloated and sour. The food was making her sick. She took a deep breath as she felt the hot tears slide down her cheeks. Crying. It was all she seemed to be doing these past days. 




Always and Never Ch. 02



Lucia was right; she was a goddamned wreck. Drinking alone in her house, and now she was crying into her strawberry pancakes. Things were far from right. She sniffed loudly, trying to wipe away her tears. 

"Oh god Rach," Lucia exclaimed. She reached across the table for her hand. "I'm sorry. I was too harsh. I shouldn't have thrown all this at you."

"No, it's not your fault" she said. "It's not like I don't know it's true." 

"Still doesn't make it right."

"We all know you can't hold your tongue for shit," Rachel smirked, wiping the fresh tears. 

Lucia smiled. "This is true."

"Thanks Luce."

"For what?"

"For slapping me with reality. I think it's time to cut the ties."

"What are you going to do?"

Rachel sighed. The million dollar question. "Close my eyes and wish it all away?"

"Sorry, Mama" Lucia said, shaking her head. "You don't get away that easily."

"I know," she groaned. "I made my bed and now I have to lie in it. But I don't know if I can."

"What, give him up? Why not?"

She couldn't explain it, her reasons for sticking around. To an outside person, it wouldn't make sense, staying in a relationship that wasn't really much of a relationship at all. To Rachel, it was better than the alternative, facing the encompassing loneliness that surrounded her almost daily. To say it aloud would force her to admit defeat, to acknowledge she made a terrible mistake, and that she never could handle the challenge of making Brendan love her. "It's...it's complicated."

Lucia shook her head. "No, it's not. It only seems that way because you already know the answer. You already know what you have to do Rach." She sighed. "I just wish you could see how much more you deserve than Brendan Doyle."

Rachel sighed, running an errant hand through her ebony locks before swooping the dark mass into a high ponytail, securing it with the black band on her wrist. "I know, Luce. I can't make him love me. And I can't make him leave his wife. I just wish this shit wouldn't hurt. I ache. My heart literally hurts with every beat."

"I know honey," she replied. "Now just imagine how it would hurt even more to stay in this mess. Trust me, you don't need him." She shook out her shoulders. "Enough of all this. Let's not let it spoil our brunch. Eat up."

********

Friday morning Rachel awoke with a new heartbeat. It pulsed excitedly, as if her whole body could sense the immense change on the horizon. She was determined to stay positive, to not let her wanting take over and make her miserable. It took four days of moping and sporadic sobbing before she dried her tears and rose to the challenge. She was stronger than this situation, she kept saying to herself. The funny thing was, the more she said it, the more she believed it. The simple words gave her a renewed strength. Rachel supposed a big part of her confidence was that she hadn't heard from Brendan for an entire week.. That wasn't unusual. Most of his time during the weekend was spent playing the dutiful husband, going to various functions and playing sports with the husbands of his wife's friends. 

She recalled how he would make fun of them, with their ridiculous sense of entitlement and blue blood snobbery. He didn't consider himself one of them because unlike Warner Huffington or Cash Haverfield, his inheritance was well earned, a product of hard work and savvy business and leadership skills. Though his father's empire was gingerly placed in his hands, it was those very hands that made it into the powerful conglomerate it was today. 

It was one of the many reasons why she loved and admired him. He was smart, possessing both book knowledge and street smarts to navigate the shark-infested waters that was the business world. His intelligence was sexy, but it was also irritating at times; the way he always thought he was right about everything made her want to scream in frustration. Plus he could be stubborn as hell, refusing to budge even the slightest inch. 

Rachel shrugged off thoughts of Brendan. Today was a fresh start; it was a brand new day. Her black peep toe Louboutin heels clicked sharply as she crossed into her kitchen. Reaching into a cupboard, she pulled out her favorite cobalt coffee mug. She was about to pour the fragrant drink when her cell phone chirped loudly. Rachel placed the pot back on the burner and reached into her purse on the counter for the phone. 

"Hey Luce," she said, cradling the phone between her cheek and shoulder blade. "I know I'm running a little late babe but I've got good reason to. Just go ahead and do the AgriCorp consultation without me..."

"Are you trying to play hooky, gorgeous?"

A cold chill of realization doused the fire of hope in her heart. Of course it would be him. Just her fucking luck. Her mind raced for the perfect comeback, something biting sharp that would show him just how much she really didn't need him. "Um...hey." Smooth, Tunney. Real smooth. 

Brendan chuckled, a low rumbling sound that made her knees dip slightly and she wished like hell for the strength to resist him. "Are you planning on making some time for me? Or are you just going to dodge me?"

Rachel felt her mouth go dry, the words lodged in her throat, a large lump of regret. It wasn't that she couldn't say no to him. It almost felt physically impossible. Fuck, why was she always so feeble when it came to him? "Uh..."

"You know, I was pretty upset with you when you ignored me the other night."

"I know, but..."

"Very childish, gorgeous. You could have just said no."

He made it sound so easy, as if telling him no was the equivalent of asking a stranger for the time. "Could I really?"

"Yes. I know I was harsh, but what I said was the truth. You aren't my wife and I'm not looking for a new one. But I still want you. You know what I want and how I want it, Rachel. If you aren't mature enough to handle my wants and needs, then let me know. If you can't say what you want like a grown woman, then I can just stop wasting my time with you."

It was as if he said the magic words. "I have to get to work." She pressed END, cutting off the call. Her fingers gripped the black granite countertop, trying to steady her trembling body. She let out a long shaky sigh, realizing she'd been holding her breath for a while. A small smile spread on her lips. That felt good. It felt damn good. 

********

"You did what?" Lucia's dark brown eyes widened in surprise. She was sitting across from Rachel in one of their conference rooms. 

Rachel grinned slightly. "I know it was childish but it was the only thing I could think of."

Lucia's loud laughter bounced off the walls. "Rach, you are fucking insane. I can't believe you hung up the phone on him."

"I just couldn't take it anymore. He was just talking and saying the dumbest shit. My first reaction was to hang up. And then afterwards I almost started panicking because I thought I made a mistake." Her fingers ran a jagged path through her hair. Her heart was still pounding erratically. Stupidly, she wondered about what he was thinking. She shouldn't care...but it was still there. 

"You aren't regretting it, are you?" Lucia's question brought her out of her thoughts. 

"Kind of. It's such a small action, hanging up the phone. But I swear it was like the equivalent of slapping him."

"Hey, I'm all about you slapping him too."

Rachel smiled. It was a long time since a smile. It felt good. "Small steps, Luce."

"I'm just saying. Anyway now that you're a free agent and all...you have more time to hang out with your best friend."

She groaned. "Was I really that bad, Luce?"

Lucia shrugged. "Let's just say if it wasn't for work I would hardly recognize you."

"Okay now I feel bad."

"Don't. We've all done it before, gotten swept away by the penis."

"Yeah, well I just wish it was for a penis that deserved it."

"No worries, Rach. I've got faith you'll find what you're looking for."

"I hope so. I really do."

********

She hated being alone. When she was younger and in college, she longed for the years when she would come home and find her place in complete silence. It was understandable to feel that way after years of living at home with her parents, to life in the dorms, to off campus apartments with friends. There was always someone around, no sense of privacy whatsoever. 

Now she craved at least some of that noise, the comfort of knowing someone else was there. Coming back to an empty house was a sinking, lonely feeling. She placed her bag on her kitchen counter and stared at her surroundings. The kitchen was modern and neat, painted in muted hues of pumpkin and spice. Everything was as it should be, and yet nothing was the way she wanted. 

This was bigger than Brendan. It was something that had been brewing long before. He was just the catalyst. It was unexplainable, the way loneliness can creep up almost as quietly as a disease, spreading like wildfire. It was all-consuming and the false comfort of a selfish lover can seem like a cure-all, but in reality it just feeds the sickness. 

Rachel needed to get out, to escape her problems for a little while. As if on cue, her phone chirped loudly. Stepping out of her heels, she fished through her purse. "Hey Luce, I just got home."

"What are you doing tonight?"

"I don't know. Figured I might take a bubble bath. Order some takeout, maybe watch a movie." 

She smiled when she heard Lucia snort through the phone. 

"You're a wild one, Mama. You should come over. We're having a little dinner party."

"Lucia, I don't know if I'm up for a big party..."

"Oh Jesus, Rachel it's not like we're having a block party. It's just me, Aaron, and the kids, and some of Aaron's friends from the shop. That's all. You just need to get out the damn house. The more you sit at home, the worse it'll be."

She was right; being alone with her thoughts right now wasn't the best thing. She needed the comfortingly numb effect of people and mindless conversation. Rachel sighed. "Alright, alright. Give me some time to get ready."

An hour later Rachel was walking up the cobblestone pathway that led to Lucia's house. She belted her black Burberry walking coat around her; she should have worn a warmer coat. It was getting much colder. As she got up to the house, the door opened and Lucia peeked her head out. 

"Finally! I thought you weren't going to show up."

"Well clearly I'm here."

"Whatever girl, come on in. Everybody else is already inside."

Rachel stepped in, shrugging off her coat and placing it gingerly on the coat rack near the door. Lucia let out a low whistle. "Wow. This is the most dressed down I've seen you in almost three years." She pointed to Rachel's outfit. 

"I didn't feel like getting all dressed up." The truth was, she didn't feel like there was a need to get dolled up, not anymore. She was wearing a pair of light blue jeans she had since college. They were soft, practically worn in the seat and had artful holes in the knees from a night she got creative in undergrad. She paired it with a red short sleeved t-shirt and a white long-sleeved thermal underneath. She was wearing the barest of makeup, her unblemished face left smooth by no foundation; no eyeliner, with just a hint of nude gloss. She felt years younger. 

Lucia snickered. "You didn't feel like getting dressed up? Lord, now I know something's wrong. At least you left your hair down. Your one beauty."

Rachel smiled, shoving her playfully. "Shut up. You sound like my mother."

"Well come on. Everyone's in the back. Aaron's already fired up the grill."

"Grill? Luce, it's freaking December."

"Please don't make me try and understand the goofball I married. I think he's trying to show off for those fools he works with."

They walked through the modest living room into the large kitchen in the back. Rachel could hear the raucous that was pure male camaraderie. "Luce where are the girls?"

"Oh, I gave them dinner and put them to bed. Think I'd let these fools around my babies? The last time they taught Annalise some dirty song which she sang for show and tell. That was an interesting parent-teacher conference." 

Rachel chuckled. This was what she needed, mindless time. Although she wasn't particularly keen on spending it with a bunch of rambunctious man-boys. Lucia's husband Aaron was co-owner of The Ink Blot, one of the city's hippest tattoo parlors. They had a constant stream of clients, both celebrity and civilian. There was even talk about a reality show in the works. 

The guys were in the kitchen, cracking jokes while Aaron seasoned a large tray of ground beef. He smiled when the two of the entered. "Alright guys, behave now. There are womenfolk among us." 

"Listen to Torres," a guy with curly brown haired said. "He's so whipped."

"At least he has a girl, Metzger. When was the last time you've seen a naked woman?" the dark skinned guy shot back, a half smile on his full lips. 

"Last night, when your mom came over," the guy named Metzger returned. 

A whole chorus of "Ohhh" rang out. 

Lucia shook her head. "Welcome to my life. It's like being stuck in junior high."

Aaron smiled. "Aww, baby it's not that bad." He washed his hands before embracing Rachel. "Rach, let me introduce you to the boys. That loudmouth over there is our resident Jew, Dino Metzger, there's Markus Foster, and the quiet one on his cell phone is Cullen Donnelly. Boys, this is Luce's best friend Rachel Tunney. Be nice, you assholes."

"I will," Dino said. "Where the hell have you been hiding this one, Luce? She's hot as balls."

"You trying to say I have ugly friends, Metz?"

Dino shook his head, his hazel eyes sharp. "Not at all. I'm just saying, we've never seen this one before."

"Well, she's always busy. You know, doing actual work."

"Um, can you two stop talking about me like I'm not here?" Rachel could feel all their eyes on her, taking in her appearance and she couldn't help but feel like a piece of art on display. 

"Alright children, stop ogling her as if she were the last rib at a fat man's barbecue. Aaron, get to work on this food so we can eat at a decent hour. Markus, set the table and Dino you get the drinks. Cullen get off that damn phone and find something to do." Lucia shot them all a look that clearly meant business. 

Grumbling, they set to work. Lucia looked around the kitchen. "Where's Jared?"

Aaron thumbed in the direction of the patio. 

"What else? Killing his lungs."

"Do you need any help doing anything, Luce?" 

Rachel wasn't the best of cooks, but she was willing to keep her mind busy. 

Lucia shook her head. "No, Mama. Beer's in the cooler on the patio. Go and relax. Me and these knuckleheads will whip up dinner in no time."

Lucia practically shoved her onto the porch, and she wished she would have grabbed her coat before heading out. The night air was brisk and she shivered slightly against the chill. She pulled her long sleeves over her hands before reaching into the cooler and pulling out a beer. Twisting the cap off, she drank slowly, savoring the icy taste. A loud burp escaped and she chuckled softly. "Nice one, Tunney" she said to herself. 

"I would have given it a ten," a voice said from the darkness. 

"Holy shit!" Rachel exclaimed, nearly dropping the bottle. Flicking on the outdoor light she spotted a man sitting on the railing of the patio, a cigarette dangling from his lips. "Jesus you scared the shit outta me."

"Sorry," he said sheepishly. "I thought you knew I was out here. I'm Jared. Jared Kuroki." He held out his hand. 

Stepping closer, Rachel took a good look at him, as much as the dim light would show. His onyx hair was spiked in a fauxhawk that was more hard rock than the meterosexual David Beckham look. Taking a silver lighter from his pocket, he lit his cigarette with one hand, illuminating for the briefest of moments the warmest pair of brown eyes she'd ever seen. 

He stared at her, his almond-shaped gaze held a hint of amusement. "You gonna take my hand or what?" 

Rachel looked down and noticed that his hand was still extended in greeting. "Oh sorry," she said, taking his in hers. "My name's Rachel." She was expecting his palm to be rough, but it was surprisingly warm and somewhat soft, not at all callused as she thought. His grip was strong and firm, his muscles flexing lightly as his large hand practically swallowed hers. He had artists' hands with big, strong, nimble fingers, and a firm grip. 

He smiled. "Oh yeah, you're Lucia's friend. The one she works with. The one with the shitty boyfriend."

The polite grin slid from her face, replaced by an almost painful grimace. "Uh yeah," she stammered. She shifted from one foot to the other. 

"Ahh, shit sorry about that" he said quickly. "I have a tendency to run my mouth at the most inappropriate times. That was rude of me."

"No—no, it's okay."

"Peace offering?" he said, pulling another cigarette from his pocket. 

Rachel shook her head. "I don't—ahh, hell just this once." She took the square from him, bending forward slightly so he could light it. Rachel breathed in slowly, watching the embers light before blowing the smoke out. "God, I haven't had a cigarette since college."

Jared chuckled. "Rebel." 

"Kind of. So why are you out here in the dark all alone?"

He shrugged, dragging on the cigarette once more. 

"Don't know. Just needed some time to think."

"Yeah, I know how that is. Actually lately all I seem to be doing is thinking. I think my brain is secretly plotting to drive me crazy." Rachel took another drag on the cigarette, inhaling slowly before blowing the smoke out in slow wisps. She snuck a peek at Jared and noticed he was watching her, his chocolate eyes pensive. "Hey," she chuckled nervously. "Snap out of it, buddy."

Jared shook his head. "Sorry. It's just....I might be too forward but that was the sexiest thing I've ever seen."

Rachel rolled her eyes, shooing away his compliment. "What? Me blowing out smoke?"

"Oh hell yeah." He laughed, and she found herself smiling too. He had an infectious chuckle, the sound shooting out all over her body, wrapping around her like a warm quilt. 

"So do you always say whatever thoughts are whizzing around in your head?"

"Pretty much," Jared said as he stubbed out his cigarette. "I don't have that filter most people do when it comes to polite conversation. I say whatever's on my mind. It's a blessing and a curse."

"I can imagine." Rachel put out her cigarette. "Brr, it's a little chilly out here. Should have brought my coat."

"Here," he said. He thrust a black zip up hoodie under her nose. 

Rachel pulled her arms through, before zipping the hoodie up all the way. It smelled of aftershave and cigarettes, the sharp scent tantalizing her senses. "Thanks."

He shrugged his shoulders. "No prob. So, you and Luce have been friends for a while?"

"Since freshman year of college. We had a few classes together before realizing we lived in the same dorm. We started studying together and eventually became closer. Been love ever since."

Jared gave a light chuckle. "She's a real cool chick, although I have to admit I was a little afraid of her when we first met."

"Hahaha yeah she can have that effect on people. She's a total pussycat, long as you stay on her good side." Rachel hopped up on the railing next to him. "So you're a tattoo artist like Aaron?"

"Yup. Been sketching since I was sixteen, did my first tat at eighteen. I'm the newest addition to The Ink Blot family. I've been working with the boys for about six years."

"Six years? That doesn't seem like a newbie."

"Yeah, well it is to those clowns. They still give me shit about being the new guy."

Rachel smiled. "They seem like a lot to handle."

"Oh, they're fucking nuts for sure. But I can't imagine being anywhere else except doing what I love with some of the best guys I know."




Always and Never Ch. 02



There was a long pause in their conversation as they listened to the noises coming from the kitchen and other nighttime sounds. The silence was comforting, no sign of the usual awkward lull that usually accompanied first-time conversations. There was something soothing about his presence, the way he really didn't seem to want anything but to inquire about her. It was kind of refreshing. 

"So do you have a girlfriend?" The question was out before she could stop herself. 

Jared laughed lightly. "You asking me out?"

She could feel the heat creeping up on her cheeks. "I-I-I well..."

His laugh rang out into the night air. "Relax Rach. I'm totally fucking with you."

Her chuckles mixed with his as she loosened her tense muscles. "Jerk."

"I couldn't help it," he said between gulps of air. "You're so wound up." 

"Yeah, this past week has been a stressful one. Actually stressful doesn't even begin to cover it."

He nodded. "I can imagine."

Rachel liked that he didn't push the subject. His words weren't full of false comfort or fake empathy. They seemed quite genuine and she found herself willing to open up. For the next fifteen minutes she told him everything about her and Brendan. For his part, Jared listened intently, nodding his head occasionally but stayed silent. 

"...and so that's where I am today. I don't know what's going to happen between the two of us. I guess it's over, but I don't know and that not knowing is killing me. I just wish we could really finalize things. But maybe even after all the bullshit I went through, I'm just not ready to say goodbye." She was silent, waiting for him to say something. He had lit another cigarette during her story. He smoked in silence and seemed to be in deep thought. Rachel couldn't bear the thought of him judging her. "You must think I'm such a total idiot, or a whore for being with him."

"Seems like that's how you perceive yourself. Me? I just think you were human."

"I..." Rachel started, but he interrupted her. 

"You seem so concerned about what other people think of you, about what you did but it really sounds like you're the one who can't forgive herself. You made a mistake, Rach. But you've got to stop playing the martyr."

His words stunned her into silence. They were a slap to the face, stinging sharp and deep. Her first reaction was to be offended, the anger starting to rise but she quickly realized he was right. She was torturing herself. 

"Fuck, I did it again" he said. 

"Yeah, you did" she said softly. "Thanks."

"Oh. Well in that case, you're welcome."

They both laughed. Rachel was about to say something when the patio door opened and Lucia stuck her head out. "What the hell are you two doing out there? Food's ready."

Rachel turned to Jared. "Apparently we're being summoned. We better go before she threatens to cut us."

Lucia rolled her eyes. "Will you stop making me out to be some angry basket case?" 

They stepped inside the kitchen, which was warm and smelled of spices. "I thought you said Aaron was firing up the grill?"

"Yeah, he did." Lucia pointed to the George Foreman grill on the counter. "I wasn't letting that dumbass light an outdoor grill in December."

When they stepped into the bright light, Rachel could finally see all of him. He really was a nice looking guy. Just as she suspected, he was much taller than her, with a wiry build. He had a slight tan, most likely left over from the summer months. Under his black shirt, she could see his fully inked arms. 

She was intrigued by him, this tattooed guy who tended to talk too much. There was something about him that she couldn't quite put her finger on. As if he could feel her eyes on him, Jared looked up. He smiled shyly before winking dramatically at her. 

Rachel couldn't help it. She smiled back. 

********

God, she was stuffed. Aaron and Lucia made a mini-feast. Each time she thought her stomach would implode, Lucia would shove another piece of chicken her way. 

"Luce, I swear to god you're trying to make me fat. You do that and I really won't find a boyfriend."

"Oh, so you're in the market for a new man, huh?" Her brown eyes sparkled with a secret. "Mmm-hmm, so it all makes sense now."

"What makes sense?"

"Nothing, nothing. I'm going to give you some leftovers to take with you. God only knows what the hell you eat anymore." Her dark eyes roved 

Rachel's body. "Whatever you're doing, keep it up. You're losing ridiculous amounts of weight."

"It's called the' My Boyfriend is an Asshole Which Makes me Stress Out' Diet. Pass it on." 

"Nice to see it hasn't affected your sarcasm. Things should totally be fine."

Rachel shrugged. "I suppose. One day at a time, right?" She glanced at her watch. "I should go."

"Really? It's only ten-thirty. I thought we could hang out, watch a movie or something." 

As much as Rachel wanted to hang out with her, she just couldn't bring herself to do it. She needed some alone time. Being around all that happy was just depressing her even more. "Um, I just need some quiet time. I'll call you tomorrow and we'll get together before the weekend is out. I promise."

"Okay Rach. I'll hold you to that." 

Grabbing the Tupperware out of Lucia's hands she walked out quickly to her car. What's wrong with me, she thought with a hint of irritation. Everything had been fine for a moment, and then suddenly changed. The world was as schizo as her heart. 

Rachel hadn't even noticed she was in her car and driving, and before she knew it, she was already home. She was ready to curl up with a large pint of cookies and cream, and watch Pride and Prejudice. Rachel turned off the ignition and reached over to grab the large Tupperware bowl. 

It was then she realized she left her coat at Lucia's. Looking down, she noticed she was still wearing Jared's black hoodie. 

She couldn't help it. She smiled. 

********

The sweat was pouring down her face, her breath coming out in long, heavy pants. Her muscles felt like they were on fire, but she continued on. It was part of her new routine. No more strawberry pancakes. Saturday morning was exercise time. It was all part of her 'Try to Forget Brandon' phase. 

It was eight o'clock in the morning and she was huffing away, shuffling on the sidewalk of her street. She had only run about a mile and a half but it felt like running the distance between Dallas and Houston. 

Rachel turned up the volume on her MP3 player, the sounds of Rammstein blaring through her earbuds. She loved listening to loud rock during her workouts. It had been a while since exercise, at least working out like this. She liked the new her. Slowly, she could feel things starting to fall into place. She wasn't happy, but there wasn't that continuous lonely feeling numbing her senses. As long as she kept busy, kept her mind constantly working, she wouldn't have time to focus on Brendan. 

Her house was in view, only fifty-four more steps to go. She willed herself to press on, moving her feet in time to the pulsing beat. She looked a hot mess, dripping sweat, damp heat in places that should never be...but she kept moving. Thirty-seven...thirty-six...thirty-five....fuck you, Brendan Doyle, you can't win...twenty-nine...twenty-eight....She closed her eyes and concentrated on the music, forcing her steps to move in time. Her muscles pumped, feeling stiff and jerky and almost gave out when her body instinctively stopped. 

She opened her eyes, glancing up at her front steps. A tired smile spread on her sweaty face. 

She did it. 

Rachel sat down on her steps, stretching out her legs in front. She was thankful she wore shorts. The early morning air was cold and crisp, a sure sign winter was here. But she was burning up. She peeled off her baby blue long-sleeved t-shirt, fanning her heated body. There was a large bottle of water next to her. There was a satisfied hiss as she opened the bottle and lifted it to her lips, feeling a small tinge of glee as the cool water slid down her throat. Rachel drained half the bottle before coming up for air. 

Pushing her damp locks from her face, she couldn't help but grin. She was dog tired, but there was a new energy pulsing through her veins. 

Standing up, she stretched fully before running up the steps into her house. 

After a hot shower, Rachel settled onto her couch with her laptop. She had a ton of work to do for their latest client, including putting together a presentation brief for the new advertising campaign. She felt peace wash over her as she opened the design program. There was something about using technology and colors to create that calmed her. 

She was so distracted by her design work, she almost didn't hear her phone ringing sharply on the table next to the couch. Without looking, she stretched her arm out, snatching up the phone and pressing the 'ON' button. "Yeah," she said distractedly. 

"Ahh, so the hoodie thief answers."

"Jared?"

"Yes, it's me. I'm calling to discuss ransom money."

She bit back a chuckle. "For this old rag? I'm thinking five hundred."

Rachel heard him scoff through the phone. 

"Please. It's easily worth about four bucks. Am I interrupting you from something?"

"No," she lied easily. She quickly saved her work before closing the program. "Just playing around on the computer."

"Oh, well cool." She heard him clear his throat. 

"So I was wondering...if we could meet up and you can give me back my property."

"You asking me out on a date?" Rachel couldn't believe the girlish tone of her voice. It was almost...flirtatious. 

"Uh, well hello there Miss Conceited. I'm just looking to retrieve my item that you so calculatingly pilfered." 

She giggled, shocked at the high pitched sound. What the hell is going on here, she thought. 

"Um.."

"It would be a friendly get-together. My friend's band is playing at this club. Maybe we could go."

"Aren't we a little old to be going to shows?"

Jared chuckled. "We're almost thirty, we're not dead. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to avoid me."

Rachel smiled in spite of herself. "It's not that. I just...can't help but feel..." How was she supposed to put into words. "You know what? I will go."

She could practically feel his smile through the phone. "Sweetness. How about I meet you at your place in an about an hour?"

"Sounds good. You know where I live?"

"Uh, well yeah." He chuckled nervously. "Lucia kind of told me."

Rachel grinned. Damn Lucia and her meddling. 

"Okay then, stalker. I'll see you in a bit."

Clicking off the phone, Rachel felt a shiver of excitement. A date. She was going on an actual date. Shit, it was honestly a good seven months. The excitement soon gave way to dread. What the hell was she doing? Things with Brendan still weren't completely over. Correction: she still wasn't completely over him. But she was so lonely. And Jared, he was nice and completely different from Brendan. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. 

And so she rose from the couch, moving unhappy thoughts from her mind; at least for the time being. 

********

The sound of the doorbell startled her, nearly making her smudge her eyeliner. Cursing softly, Rachel steadied her hand and continued her task, making a thick line of kohl on her upper eyelids. Setting down the pencil, she glanced at herself in the mirror. Her fingers nervously smoothed her hair. She didn't know what to do with it, so she just brushed it down, letting it hang long around her shoulders. Not to overdo it she dressed casually in dark skinny jeans and a bright turquoise tunic shirt. 

The doorbell rang once more. "Coming!" she yelled. She left the bathroom, padding down the hallway. There was a brief nervous smile as she opened the door. Jared stood there, a shy half smile on his lips, something she was quickly noticing as signature. 

"Hey," she said. 

"Hey yourself." His brown eyes flickered briefly over her. "You look nice. I think shoes might be a requirement, but otherwise, you look good."

Rachel chuckled. "Shoes. Now why didn't I think of that? Come in," she said, stepping to the side. "I just have to grab some footwear. I'll be right back." Walking a little ways back down the hallway she turned to him. He was dressed in dark, ripped jeans, a beat-up black leather jacket and a green band t-shirt. When she looked down, she cracked a smile. He was wearing bright green Chuck Taylors. 

"You don't look so bad yourself," she said. 

She turned into her bedroom, slipping her feet into the black Louboutin pumps by the door. Taking a deep breath, she walked back out to meet him. He was still by the front door, shifting lazily from one foot to the other. "Sorry about that," she said. "Ready to go?" She shrugged into her black Calvin Klein leather jacket before grabbing her purse. 

"Yeah." They stepped outside, pausing briefly for her to lock the door before continuing down the steps to the sidewalk. "I was thinking we'd take my car," he said.

"That's fine," Rachel replied. "Where did you park?"

Jared grinned. "Right here." He pointed to a black car in front of them. 

Rachel whistled. "Whoa. This is yours?"

He nodded. "Yeah, this is Aoki. My baby."

She shot him a quizzical look. "You named a '67 Pontiac GTO 'Aoki'?" 

"Yeah," he said with a laugh. "You got a problem with that?" He held open the passenger door for her. 

"No," she said as she slid inside the car. "I just think it's a little blasphemous naming a classic American machine a Japanese name."

He chuckled, closing the door before jogging over to the driver's side. As he got in, he turned to her. "Well last time I checked I am Asian. And my car my rules, princess."

Rachel raised her hands. "Okay, okay truce. I promise not to make fun of Aoki so long as you don't call me 'princess' again."

Jared winked at her. "Deal." He started up the car. "So how do you feel about funk?"

********

Twenty minutes later, they were sitting in what Rachel could only describe as a "dive bar". The place looked like it hadn't been cleaned in months. The main area was large but packed with round tables and straight back chairs. The large circular bar sat in the center of the room, which struck Rachel as odd. Across from the bar was a raised platform that she guessed was some sort of stage. At least it was well-lit, she thought. 

There were plenty of people in the space, making it feel even more crowded. 

"So what do you think?" Jared asked as they winded their way through the crowd to get find a good seat. He led her to one of the tables near the front. 

"Um, it's got character" she said, sitting down gingerly. 

Jared raised an eyebrow questioningly before cracking a smile. "Right. You look like you're about to whip out some hand sanitizer and go to town."

They shared a laugh. "No, not that" she replied. "Although I probably won't be using the bathroom in here."

"Don't worry. It will totally be worth the gnarly setting." He took off his jacket and settled it on the back of his chair. "Why don't I get us something to drink? What's your poison?"

"Surprise me," she said. 

He grinned again and Rachel couldn't help the excited flutter of her heart. He really did have a fantastic smile. "Famous last words," he said. "I remember saying that once. It was during my initiation night party with the boys. Twelve shots later I was wearing nothing but a cowboy hat and my underwear screaming that a road trip to Canada for fries and gravy was an excellent idea."

Rachel fought the urge to smile. "Really? You would have made it all the way to Canada in your drawers and a hat?"

Jared shrugged. "Hey, when you got a great idea you just gotta go for it. Be back in a bit."

Shaking her head, Rachel set her bag on the table. Well things were off to a great start. She wasn't particularly sure what was going to happen on her 'kinda-sorta not really' date, but she couldn't help but feel excited. She reached into her bag to silence her phone when she noticed the flashing lights indicating a text message. That's funny, she thought. I never heard it beep. 

Scrolling down, she opened the message and felt her stomach lurch a little into her throat. 

"Are you going to ignore me forever? Tsk tsk Gorgeous. I need to see you."

Rachel chewed her lip nervously. This would definitely be her luck. How the hell was she supposed to respond to a message like that? What kind of game was he playing at? She couldn't take anymore of his weird mood swings. Stuffing her phone back into her purse, she tried to move thoughts of Brendan Doyle from her mind. No, she told herself. You're over him, remember? Move on, Tunney. It's time to move on. 

"You okay?"

She looked up to see Jared staring quizzically at her, two large pints of beer in his hands. 

Running a hand through her hair, she smiled. "Absolutely. Just putting my phone on vibrate." 

She tried to force a smile, hoping it met her eyes. 

He continued to look at her, as if he knew there was something she wasn't telling him. Thankfully he didn't push the matter. "Well I didn't really know what to get you, so beer it was." He set down one of the glasses in front her. "But I will say it is one of the best beers in the world."

"Really now," she said with a smirk. "And what makes you think I will enjoy it?"

"Hmm," he said as he stroked his chin, a look of faux intense thought on his face. "That is true. After all, you come on a date with me wearing four hundred dollar stilettos. Don't get me wrong, they're hot as fuck but completely impractical in a place like this. I don't think you're the type of girl who drinks beer. I probably should have ordered you a vodka and cranberry, something sweet and fruity like that."

"Need I remind you Mr. Kuroki, that I was drinking a beer when you scared the shit out of me on the porch the other night?" She took off her jacket and glared at him. 

He dismissed her comeback with a slight wave of his hand. "Semantics, Tunney. Purely semantics. We're talking now. Tell me something: on a typical night out, what do you usually order?" His brown eyes glinted with amusement, as if he already knew the answer. 

Despite the small nip of irritation, she couldn't help but smile. "Shut up. Well, I can still drink beer with the best of them."

Jared raised his glass in salute. "Aww, dream big baby."

Rachel raised her glass in his direction before taking a large swig. Tipping the glass back, she downed half the beer in one long gulp. Setting the pint down, she smiled triumphantly at Jared, who was looking at her with something akin to shock. "You were saying?"

"I digress." He cleared his throat. "Marry me," he said.

Rachel laughed. "Don't hold your breath." She took a more ladylike sip of her beer. "So who are we seeing tonight?" 

"A buddy of mine is in this band. He asked me to come out and take a look at them. They're pretty decent."

"What kind of music do they play?"

"They're an Earth, Wind, and Fire tribute band."

Rachel nearly spat out the sip she had just taken. "Are you serious?"

Jared nodded. "As Lindsay Lohan's mental state. Why do you ask?"

"That is either the most ridiculous idea I've ever heard or the most epic fucking band ever. I practically grew up on Earth, Wind, and Fire. My dad owns every single one of their albums."

"No shit? Your dad is fucking awesome."

"I know." Rachel grinned. "This is going to be so much fun."

********

"So you just witnessed the epic-ness of Serpentine Fire. How did you like it?"

"I have to say, it wasn't too bad. Your friends can jam."

Jared nodded. "Sweet. I'll have to let them know you dig it. Now what do you want on your sundae?"

After the show, they decided to walk a few blocks to Smitty. It was one of Rachel's favorite late night haunts. The old-school diner was a throwback to the 50s, the kind of place where the staff still wore paper hats and stark white aprons. Smitty's had the best old-fashioned soft serve ice cream. 




Always and Never



"Oh my god," she moaned. "This is absolutely amazing. What's in it?" she turned to him, and found his expression rather peculiar. He was staring at her, his nebulously green and brown eyes glowing with a fire she immediately recognized as lust. 

It made her uncomfortable, but mostly it made her long for him to act on what he wanted. Was it so odd, to be so taken with a stranger? Maybe so, but she couldn't deny the strong vibes between them. She was drawn to that mysteriously sinister demeanor. It promised pleasure, if she was only too willing to give in. 

"Whiskey," he said, the word rolling off his tongue in a lush purr. "It's mixed with warm apple cider and there's a dash of cinnamon schnapps as well."

"It's positively sinful," she said, choosing her words purposefully. 

"You think so?" He began to move closer to her. 

Her heart was picking up speed now, gaining as the space between them grew smaller and smaller. 

"I do."

"Do I intrigue you?" he whispered. 

"You do."

He smiled as he brought his lips to hers; they were a breath apart and she was finding it hard for her brain to form complete sentences with him and that damn intoxicating scent so near. 

"You're gorgeous. Simply beautiful." He moved to press his lips against hers, but she rested her hands lightly against his chest.

"Don't," she whispered. 

He continued to move as if he didn't hear her. 

Instead, his lips rested on her collarbone, sucking the soft skin into his mouth. She felt the breath being knocked out of her. While she was fully aware they were in a very public place, she couldn't help sighing into his touch, the stubble from his beard scratching gently against her skin.

"Mmm, you're so soft," he cooed. "Like the finest chocolate silk. I'm going to enjoy tasting you in other places." His tone was firm, as if he already knew she was going to give in to him.

"We don't even know each other," she managed to gasp out.

He lifted his head from her neck, his gaze soft and yet she could see the edge in his eyes. It was then she imagined he wasn't the type of man who heard no often. "Do you want me to stop?"

She stared at him. Part of her was truly unnerved; he was bold, kind of cocky, and almost bordered on asshole. But tell that to her panties. Her pussy was practically creaming a river at the thought of his lips and other naughty bits caressing her body. 

Taking a deep breath, she shook her head. "No," she whispered. 

He smiled, satisfied with her answer. "Good girl. Now let's get out of here. We've got a long night ahead of us."

********

Closing the phone, she took the keys out of the ignition and ambled out the car. Her steps were slow and sure, giving off false confidence. She walked up to the door of Room 8 of the Sunshine Motel. It was their normal room. She tapped her forefinger on the door twice before stepping inside. 

It wasn't the Waldorf, but it was nice enough. Deep blue walls accented with sea shells and other beach paraphernalia gave a tropical feel. There was a king size bed in the middle of the room, a sea blue bedspread with bright yellow fleur de lis covering the top. The sound of the ocean crashing against the shore could be heard from the patio door towards the back of the room. 

She found him sitting next to the bed, snug in an oversized royal blue armchair. His fifteen hundred dollar Etro navy pinstripe suit jacket was folded neatly on top of a small table. His eyes, that crisp pond green color watched her intently. 

The murky color still had the power to make her hot and uneasy at the same time. He looked damned fine; he always did. He was a label whore, dressing the part of a trust fund baby left in charge of daddy's company and the family fortune. 

The lavender Nautica dress shirt complemented the sage colored Marc Jacobs tie. He was certainly the splash of color in the workplace, knowing his knack of dressing like a runway model definitely increased his popularity with the ladies in the office. 

Just as she suspected, his button was undone. She could see his strong hand moving inside of his pants and her mouth watered. It was unexplainable, the perverse thrill she got from watching him jerk off. 

A lock of reddish-brown hair fell into his eyes as he bit his lip in pleasure. She watched him, almost in struggle as he removed his hand from his cock and stared at her. 

"Take your hair down," he growled softly.

She shivered, her body responding to the forcefulness in his voice. It always made her feel sexy and meek at the same time. A thin brown hand reached up, loosening the tortoise shell clip holding her slightly messy bun in place. Her raven locks slid softly down her back, the big curls resting just on the tops of her shoulders. 

Once again, a shiver fled down her spine. His stare was intense, the green of his eyes swallowing in the sight of her. When he closed his eyes, she could hear the audible intake of breath. He could smell the fresh rain scent of her shampoo. She knew it was his favorite; it reminded him of childhood summers spent at his grandparents' lake house. 

It was amazing; she hoarded the smallest details about him, things he would reveal after a grueling session where he would fuck her on all fours, or when he would treasure her body, making slow and sweet love to her for hours until she was spent and tears of unabashed happiness would fall from her eyes. He would kiss her then, telling her how beautiful she was, how special she made him feel. 

Those were the times when things were the best, when it seemed like for the briefest of moments, he was truly hers. 

"Come closer," he whispered. 

Her feet moved automatically, inching ever closer to him. His hands were perched on the arm of the chair, fingers gripping the material. His smile was slow and sensual. "You look great. Is that a new skirt?"

A small smile crept along her plush lips. The skirt wasn't new, and he knew that. It was another favorite of his, a slate grey pencil number that tightly cinched at her ribcage and highlighted the curve of her slender hips, gracefully long legs, and the generous swell of her derriere. She paired it with a red silk short sleeved blouse, and bright red Louboutin pumps, the ones with the five inch heels. He loved seeing her in red, said it brought out the brick tones in her earthen colored skin. 

"Come here, gorgeous" he cooed as he patted his lap. She obliged, walking over and settling herself against him. Her head swam as her body brushed against his hardness. She could feel the warmth radiating off his chiseled physique; she could smell his Lacoste cologne, the heady combination of musk, sandalwood, and a pinch of lemon made her pussy throb in anticipation. 

His hand brushed lightly against her spine and she closed her eyes in a slow shudder. She knew he was watching her. He loved to watch the faces she made as he teased her body. Her back arched, offering her ample cleavage to him. It was a sign of submission, a contract of control and they both knew it. She was his to command. 

A pair of strong hands gripped her hips, stilling their movement. She looked down in surprise; she hadn't realized her hips were grinding gently into his length. Raising her eyes to meet his, she gave him a meek smile, batting her long eyelashes. He could never resist when she did that. 

He always remarked how beautiful her eyelashes were. It was such a weird compliment, like saying someone had a cute kneecap; but she gleaned the kind words all the same, storing it in that secret place she left open just for him, in the smallest space of her heart. 

"Do you know how long I've been waiting for you?" he drawled. "I watched you sit in the car for about twenty minutes. I was wondering what in the world could be going through that pretty little head of yours?"

Her heart fluttered wildly, the normal pace whenever she heard his voice. She could feel the vibrations, his words rumbling in his chest before they tumbled from his soft lips. Though he tried to mask it in his every day work musings, she could still hear the Boston accent; it seemed to be more pronounced whenever he talked to her. 

The lazy drawl of his R's and other odd vowels and consonants made her pussy cream. 

"What were you doing in the car, gorgeous?" He asked. She could hear the playful tone in his voice. It was genial and yet slightly dangerous. 

He was up to something. With one hand still wrapped around her waist, he began to undo the tiny red buttons on her shirt. As his hand reached inside, he squeezed her already hardened nipples through the fabric of the red lace and silk bra she was wearing. 

A soft cry, mingled with pleasure and pain fell from her lips as she gripped his shoulder. It took all of her wills not to rock her pussy against his cock. Instead she was forced to whimper her desire. She smiled at the wicked satisfaction in his eyes. He was pleased with himself. 

"Does my girl like it when I play with her nipples?" He tweaked the little brown bud once more, increasing the pressure slightly. 

She moaned once again, her breath coming in short, hot pants of air. Her back arched, and she silently begged for him to take off her bra and pay proper attention to her aching need. 

"I believe I asked you a question. If you don't want to answer, I could just take my hand away." 

He began to move his fingers from her nipples when she stopped him. 

"No, don't. I like it." The sentence came out in a soft whisper. 

He smiled, that electric grin that sent tiny pinpricks of desire shooting through her body. 

"There's my good girl. Did you miss me, gorgeous?"

Their normal banter; it was how every encounter started off. She thought she would tire of it, the same question, but she never did. She always missed him when he was away. She nodded. "I did. You know I did."

"I know. I just like to hear you say it."

"Did you miss me?" 

He was silent for a moment, and she was a little afraid she had killed the mood. This was a new question. Her heart fluttered, anticipating his reaction to the script change. But when he looked up at her, with those pretty cool orbs, she knew things were okay. 

"More than you know, gorgeous. More than you know."

Her heart resumed its normal thumpa-thumpa pace whenever he was near as she stored his words away for a later time. 

She brought her lips to his. He tasted divine and she could still smell the Lacoste. She smiled when she heard him moan. She was wearing another one of his favorites, cranberry-flavored gloss. 

She nipped his bottom lip before sucking into her mouth. His tongue lapped at hers gently and she couldn't help but squirm, rocking her ass against his hardness. 

His hand landed sharply on the rounded cheek of her ass and a throaty moan rumbled into his mouth. He took it as his own, grabbing her neck and tilting it back gently as his lips and tongue continue to assault her senses. 

She could barely breathe, but she didn't care. Her lips were quivering from his touch and she was feening for more of him. When she licked the roof of his mouth, she felt his cock twitch and his grip on her neck tightened. 

The kiss was hungry and she knew that today would not be a day for slow love making. He was horny and stressed. Work must be killing him. The home life must be in shambles. No matter. He was here now. 

"I need to feel your lips on my cock," he groaned. 

Kissing him hard one last time she rose from the chair and dropped gracefully to her knees. She couldn't help the tremor of adrenaline that flowed through her bloodstream. Giving him head was a pleasurable experience for her as well. He lifted up his hips, sliding his designer suit pants down past his knees and around his ankles, along with his black silk boxer briefs. 

Her hungry eyes took in the sight of his cock. The first time she saw it, she nearly balked at the thought of having it inside her. He was thick and long; her fingers just barely gripped him all the way around and sometimes she had to really work to get him completely into her mouth. But she was always up for the challenge. He was completely shaven and she loved the feel of his warm shaft and smooth sac when she took him into her mouth. 

He always told her she was the best he'd ever had when it came to oral. Another unusual compliment to store away for a later day. 

Her pink tongue snaked out, flicking the top of his reddish head. She smiled at his movement. She loved making him squirm. When she slid her mouth down lower, her lips stretching wide to cover his shaft, his head tipped back in pleasure. 

"Fuck," he breathed. "I fucking needed this." Reaching down, he caressed her cheek lovingly. She smiled to herself. Holding him in her mouth, it was one of those times she was in complete control. She would determine how and when he would come, and even if he would at all. The thought made her positively gleeful. Sliding his cock from her mouth, she glanced up at him, an impish gleam in her honey-and-hazel hued eyes. 

She licked him slowly, her tongue grazing over every bumpy vein; she could feel his cock tremble, could hear his breath catch in his throat as he bit down to keep from moaning. 

His hand wove into her soft hair, gripping her tresses firmly. She continued to tease him, dragging her tongue long and slow over his cock. She knew he wanted her to take him back into her mouth fully but she didn't. She wanted to make him beg for it. It was his punishment and she daresay he didn't deserve it. 

Licking the underside of his dick, she tongued the spongy tip, taking special care with the really sensitive spot underneath she knew drove him crazy. Sure enough, his cock twitched in her hands and she felt and heard the low growl of frenzied pleasure that ensued. "Gorgeous, don't tease me," he husked. "I can't promise I'll be gentle when it's my turn."

She complied, sliding him fully back into her waiting mouth. His groan was loud as his hips thrust involuntarily, forcing more of his cock into her mouth. She took it all, her wet cavern sucking him greedily as her head began to bob. There was a bit of hesitation and a bit of gagging, but she took it like a champ. She could feel him shudder beneath her touch, and when she heard the whispered slip of her name her heart gave a strong lurch. 

"Stop," he moaned as he tried to pull her away. "I need to be inside you."

There was a slight pout of disappointment on her pretty face as she reluctantly stood up. He chuckled. "Don't look so sad, baby." His voice was sugary sweet and laced with pure devilment. His long finger tapped his chin methodically, his green eyes watching her intently. "Clothes off, gorgeous," he said, the quiet forcefulness making her tremble with anticipation. "Let me see that beautiful body of yours."

Her fingers undid the rest of the buttons on her shirt before sliding the silky material down her shoulders and tossing it onto the medium sized wood table. Her eyes never left his as he watched the movements her hand made, his gaze sharp and penetrating. 

When she first met him, that gaze used to unnerve her; he was constantly watching, his quiet demeanor made her slightly uncomfortable. Now, it was one of the qualities she couldn't get enough of. His eyes spoke volumes and she found herself bending to his whim, even when he hadn't uttered a single word. 

Her hand moved to her right, unzipping the side zipper of her pencil skirt. As she started to wiggle out of the skirt, she heard his throat clear. 

"Turn around and spread for me, honey pie."

She turned on her heels, wiggling once more as she slid the skirt down her slender hips. She bent over slightly as she pushed the skirt down farther, over her ass, down her legs, and finally to her ankles. Her legs were spread a few inches apart and she knew he had a perfect view of her panty-free pussy, glistening from arousal. 

The deep growl was audible and she smiled. Standing upright, she faced him as she unhooked her bra. Her caramel breasts bounced free, heavy with need and the stiff brown peaks growing harder in the slightly cool air of the hotel room. 

She raised a dark eyebrow in his direction. "Shoes on?" she drawled. 

His grin was slow and steady. "You know it, gorgeous." He rubbed his cock through his pants. 

"Now show me what I've been missing."

She walked over to the bed, crawling on all fours before settling in the middle. Lifting her knees, she spread her legs wide and rested back on her elbows, her eyes never leaving his. His chest rose and fell swiftly, and she heard his ragged breathing as his eyes seemed to glow. "Show me," he demanded, the stern words coming out in a quiet tone that made her tremble. 

Using her thumb and forefinger, she parted the slick folds of her inner womanhood, showing him the myriad of chocolate melting into the deep pink of her tight little channel. 

His lips curled into a satisfied grin. "Fingers in, gorgeous" he cooed. 

She complied, sliding her middle finger slowly inside. Her head tipped back in pleasure and she let out a low moan. When she slipped another digit in her hips rocked forward, plunging her fingers deeper and making her cry out. Knowing he was watching and listening to her pleasure herself always made it more enjoyable. 

"Do you enjoy touching yourself," he whispered. 

"Yes," she breathed, her voice barely a whisper. 

She spread her legs wider as her fingers moved a steady rhythm, in and out. 

"I'm sorry, what was that?" his voice suddenly become low and she could hear the slight growl threatening to break free. 

"Yes I do," she replied, her voice stronger and a little louder. She looked at him, the meek smile on her face, showing her submission. 

"Good girl." was his quiet response. "Speak a little louder, gorgeous. We're past the point of shyness."

Her upper body rested on the bed as her other hand went to cup her breast. Slim brown fingers brushed the swollen bud and she gasped at the tiny shocks that shot through her. Her back arched as her fingers moved through her wet arousal, strumming her clit and delving deeper into her hot pussy. She started to tremble, feeling the beginnings of one hell of an orgasm when she heard him speak. 

"Not yet, gorgeous."

She let out an angry snort of frustration. "Please," she whispered. Her body continued to shake, angrily protesting the lack of sweet release. She needed to come. She sat up on her elbow again and watched him. He looked positively pleased with himself. His hands were in a steeple under his chin, his elbows resting on the armrests of the chair, watching her as one might view the evening news. 

He was torturing her and they both knew it. It was punishment, she supposed. Punishment for keeping him waiting while she zoned out in her car. "Please," she whispered once more as her hips began to rock against her fingers. Her body wasn't giving up the fight. 

"Does my gorgeous girl want to come?" he asked simply. 

"Yes," she practically bleated. There was still a slight trace of irritation. He was clearly asking the stupid questions. 

"Then you'll have to ask."

She sighed. A part of her was screaming "Fuck this shit, you're a grown ass woman". That part was clearly in the minority. Because she was going to give in. She always did. 

"Please," she said shakily, the orgasm right on the cusp of exploding from her body. "Can I please come?"

He smiled spread slowly on his face as his murky eyes shone. "By all means baby. Let me hear you sing."

She moaned, her body trembling as ripples of pleasure coursed through her skin. Her breath was coming out in short, gasping pants, little whimpers mixed in. Her pussy sucked her fingers in, squeezing them tight as she bucked her pelvis against the intense orgasm. 

"Quiet," he said and she complied, lowering her voice to a low hum. Her hips still moved, fingers still thrusting inside as she tried to calm the pounding in her chest. "Good girl."




Always and Never



She lay back on the bed, chest heaving slightly, waiting for him to speak. Her body was buzzing all over and she was craving his touch. 

"Fingers out," he said, his voice washing over her still-sensitive body like a gentle caress. She complied, sliding her fingers out of her damp heat. They were slick, coated with her juices. The scent was positively enticing, a deliciously heady aroma. 

"How do you taste?" he asked huskily. 

She dipped her fingers into her warm mouth, sucking them slowly. "So sweet," she cooed. "And so ready for you."

He rose from the chair, stepping out of his pants. He untied his Cole Haan shoes and peeled off his socks. Loosening his tie, he took his off before unbuttoning his shirt and laid them both on top of his suit jacket. Clad only his underwear, he walked over to the bed. She shuddered at the sight of his body, hard lines of his muscled rippling under smooth skin. He was lean but athletic as evidenced by the defined abdominal muscles. 

His hands dipped into the waistband of his underwear before sliding them off his slim hips, down his strong thighs, and finally to the floor. He stood before her, naked and proud, looking like a devilish Adonis. 

Crooking a finger, she beckoned him to her. He complied, stretching his tall form on top of hers. She could feel the weight of his erection pressing against her thigh and her pussy trembled in anticipation, imagining his cock sliding into her wetness. 

His lips captured hers in a searing kiss as he pressed his weight into her. She loved that feeling, him fully on her. It wasn't stifling; it was comforting. It felt real. She kissed him back hard, whimpering as his teeth nipped her lips playfully. Until she met him, she had no use for the phrase "kissed senseless". But it was true; he kissed her stupid, and she adored it. Another little talent. 

"I..." she husked. She was finding it difficult to breathe as his lips continued their assault. Her hips rocked heavily into his until she felt their movement stilled by his strong hands firmly gripping her pelvis. 

"Tell me what you want, gorgeous." His breath was hot on her skin as she shuddered under his touch. 

He was everywhere, lips on hers, hands on her hips, his warm cock pressed tightly against her inner thigh, begging to slide into her sweet hole. Her pulse pounded in her ears and the roar was deafening. She needed him, needed him to do it...

"I need to feel you," she gasped. She felt him grin against her lips as his hand left her hip. 

"Like this?" he cooed. She felt two of his thick fingers plunge hard and she groaned. It wasn't exactly what she was looking for, but it was damn good enough for now. "How does it feel?"

His thumb brushed her clit, sending tiny sparks shooting all over. "Fuck," she moaned. "Feels so good."

"Do you want more?" he asked quietly. 

"Yes, please." 

"Then tell me." His fingers delve deeper before curving upward and all she can think is yellow, happiness and pleasure. "Beg for it. Tell me what you want me to do to you."

"Dammit," she groaned "I want you inside me. Now." She bleats it out, a sharp plea for him to ease the fire now threatening to consume her insides. He was torturing her, and he knew it. It's all part of the game, all part of the contract of control. 

He grinned, his murky eyes practically iridescent. He was enjoying himself. "You made me wait while you sat in the car, gorgeous. Why should I give you this cock?" To prove his point, he slid his fingers out of her warmth and she nearly cried from the loss of contact. 

"Please," she begged. She hated when he acted like this. It bordered almost on cruel. She longed for the sweet side, the one where he would gently slide inside her pussy, kissing her softly. That made her feel whole, and less like the kept woman she really was. 

"Tell me," is his quiet command. He brought his fingers to her lips, coated with her essence. She could smell herself on his digits. It was a heady mixture, tangy and sweet with a hint of her lily and mint body wash. He rubbed his fingers on her lips, and the scent became stronger. He licked his lips in an almost wolfish manner before pressing them against hers. 

He sucked her plump bottom lip into his mouth, licking off every trace of her womanly juices. His groan was low and heavy and she squirmed at the nerve shocks it sent to her already overheated pussy. "Do you want this cock," he asked once more. His accent was heavy now, all trace of the well-bred Boston boy gone.

"Yes," she replied. She barely got the word out before it turned into a low moan. He moved the tip of his cock to her soaking channel. The blunt pinkish head of his large dick pressed gently at her entrance, and her greedy pussy lips reached for all of him. 

"I said—do you want this cock?"

"Yes!" she screamed. "Fuck me. Now." Her tone was as stern as she dared. 

He smiled once again. "With pleasure, gorgeous." And with that, he rocked into her, thrusting so deep, her head tilted back in absolute pleasure. 

A sharp hiss escaped her clenched teeth as she spread her legs wider to accompany him. He was still for a moment before rolling his hips once more. A small bead of sweat rolled down his face and onto her collarbone. Her hands gripped his muscular arms as her hips sought to meet up his downward thrusts. 

"What do you want, gorgeous?" he gasped. 

"My nipples," she moaned. "Please lick them." Still plunging deep, he leaned forward, capturing a tiny brown bud between his teeth. He tugged at it gently before running the rough side of his tongue back and forth over it. She cried out, the sensations from his mouth and cock almost too much to bear. 

"How do I feel?" he asked before moving to the other nipple, stiff with arousal. 

"S-s-so good," she shuddered. "I-I'm gonna..."

"Oh no you don't," he said. "Not until I say you're ready."

She let out an angry breath. So close. And he knew it. But it was all part of the game. And she loved to play along. 

"Turn over," he drawled as he slid out of her. She complied, rolling onto her stomach. He moved her raven hair to one side, draping it over her neck. He kissed the back of her neck, his talented tongue tracing the tiny sprinkling of stars tattooed there, a product of a drunken night back in undergrad. When he first saw them, he had chuckled and called them 'cute'. 

She lifted up on her elbows when his hands reached around to cup her breasts. He tugged her nipples while he straddled her. She felt safe, her hips secured between his powerful thighs. He tilted her face back, kissing her lips while his fingers continued to cup and squeeze her breasts. 

She could feel his cock resting between her ass cheeks and she longed for him to return to her wet pussy. But this time she didn't beg. She knew better. He would go on his own time. 

He always did. 

He chuckled. "I can see you're waiting patiently," he cooed. "Since my girl is so good, I'll definitely give her what she wants." He lifted her hips slightly before burying his cock inside her once more.

They both cried out, and she spread her legs wider giving him access to go deeper. It was one of her favorite positions. He loved fucking her from the back and she loved feeling the weight of his athletic body fully pressed down on hers. 

With her pinned to the bed, he was right where he wanted to be: in total control. 

Each time he stroked into her, her body moved forward, the silken sheets rubbing her clit. She clawed at the sheets as she felt his lips pressed against her shoulder blades, his breath hot on her sweaty skin. 

"Fuck," she heard him pant. "Pussy so good." He began to pick up his pace, stroking harder and faster into her. She was straddling the line of suffocation and pleasure, her breathing becoming erratic as she neared her climax.

She could hear the tell-tale groans behind her. He was going to come. She turned her head, capturing his lips, stealing his gasps of pleasure as her own. "Please," she begged. 

He smiled. "Does my girl want me to come?"

She nodded, giving him the meek smile she knew he loved. "Yes, baby. I want to feel you come inside me."

He closed his eyes and she felt him shudder against her. "Ooh gorgeous. I definitely want to shoot this load inside that hot pussy of yours. But you need to come first. You've been such a patient girl."

"Ooh," she cried, arching her back as he stroked deeper. 

"Come for me," he growled. "Come on, little girl. Let me hear you scream."

She began to tremble, her fingers twisting the sheets violently as the waves of pleasure tore through her being. "Oh fuck," she cried. Her hips began to push back, meeting his quick thrusts. 

"Is my baby coming?" he whispered in her ear.

"Yes!" she whimpered. She let out a small scream when he plunged harder, his body stretching out, his long arms covering hers as he threaded his pale fingers through her slender brown ones. 

She was barely down from the first orgasm when another hit. Her pussy squeezed his cock tightly inside her and she heard him curse softly. "I'm almost there, gorgeous" he husked. 

"Come for me baby," she whispered. 

He growled. "Say it again." He hit deep once more and felt her shake underneath him. 

"Ooh, come for me. Let me feel that hot load inside me."

His grip tightened on her hands as she felt his shudder. "Say my name," he whispered, his voice tight with need. 

"Brendan," she whispered, turning to face him. "Come for me."

His moan was low and deep, his body pressing tighter to hers as he released his seed into her waiting pussy. She came quickly, her body gleeful at the noise she'd been waiting for. 

His hips continued to stroke in and out, slowly bringing her down from ecstacy. She was still shuddering when he slid out of her. She felt the cold dampness between her legs, and all at once she missed his warm cock. 

She flipped on her back as she watched him crawl to the top of the bed, before sliding between the blankets. He was obviously planning to sleep. 

His murky eyes watched her, patting the spot next to him. She moved slowly, sore from where his hands gripped her hips tightly. She was bound to have bruises later. As she settled in beside him, he threw an arm around her waist, drawing her closer to his damp body. This was part of their ritual. He liked her close after, her silent company a comfort to his mind. 

Her hand rested on his chest, a creamy tan color from hours playing basketball at the country club. It was amazing, the minute details she knew about him. She traced the sprinkling of freckles on his chest, her fingers running over the sparse downy fuzz. She could still smell his cologne, the faint scent mixed with hers. It made her feel happy. 

He was breathing deeply, his chest rising and falling softly. Snuggling closer to his body, she closed her eyes. As she drifted off to sleep, she thought she heard him whisper softly. 

"Rachel."

********

Rachel Tunney considered herself a modern woman. While she embraced the independent "I Can Do It All By Myself" attitude shared by the more vocal of her gender, she secretly longed for something a bit more sinister. 

When she met Brendan Doyle at the movies that night, she had no idea what she was in for. She had met confident guys, but there was something different about Brendan. He didn't wear his confidence like arrogant swag, a sure sign of a man who wasn't as confident as he appeared, one who would need constant reassurance from a woman about just how 'awesome' he really was. 

No, Brendan Doyle's confidence was pure, undiluted. He simply didn't give a shit, and she had to admit, she found that sexy as hell. That night after the movies and drinks at his bar, he took her back to his swanky loft where he fucked her on every piece of furniture in his living room, from his $3,000 Italian leather sofa to the matching leather chaise. 

He was wealthy, this she knew. His money was old, dating back to the Industrial Revolution. His family used to own a series of mills in the Northeast, producing everything from toys to paper. Brendan's father turned the mills into successful luxury hotels. When Brendan took over, he moved from hospitality to bars and nightclubs. At just thirty-two, he was a business whiz. 

Yes, after that night of hot sex, she did Google him. Of course she knew who the Doyle family was. Practically everyone in the world did. 

It was also no surprise that he was married. She discovered this little tidbit after they reached the two month mark. She'd had her suspicions, the late night calls, the random hookup places. With the exception of the Sunshine Motel, they never fucked in the same place twice. She tried to tell herself it was the spontaneity of the relationship, not knowing when she'd see or hear from him. It kept her constantly on edge and made their unions even hotter. 

But still, the wife situation...it was surprising and obvious at the same time. She initially debated whether to confront him. She didn't want to appear clingy, whining about something that they hadn't really discussed. But she couldn't help but feel like this was a relationship. It was twisted. Really twisted. But at times she felt like she was number one and his wife was the other woman. 

She'd seen the woman one night during her random Google searches. She was quite the typical Upper East Side bred-princess: long brunette hair styled expertly by top stylists, big blue eyes forever posed in the wide-eyed China doll fashion, petite body with slender features, and a grin that almost bordered on toothy but just stopped short of comely. 

Rachel had to scoff. Typical. Just damn typical. Though she had her proof, she still had to know, had to hear it from him.

So one night after a particularly satisfying session she asked him the question she'd been dreading. 

"Does your wife know?" She was lying in bed, watching him slide his jeans over his hips. She loved to watch him dress. It was almost as fun seeing him out of his clothes. He always took such care with his appearance. 

He had just pulled his olive green shirt over his head when his hands stilled. Only for a moment, and then he pulled his shirt down and adjusted it over his jeans. "Do you really want to know the answer?"

She swung her feet on the floor. "I suppose not. Were you ever going to tell me about her?" She thought she saw a flicker of fire but it was quickly replaced by its usual cool pond color. 

"Do you really think that's any of your fucking business?"It came out so casually, so quietly, she almost forgot to take offense.

"Of course it is," she said angrily. "I'm your girlfriend."

His lush lips curled into a grin that was part sexy, part devious. "Really now? You came up with that all on your own?"

"I mean, we've been seeing each other for two months. It definitely feels like a relationship. I thought we were exclusive."Her hazel eyes glanced up at his, searching for something, she just didn't know. But his gaze was unrelenting and almost bordered on cold. 

She wished he'd stop looking at her like that. She was beginning to feel like a fool. 

"Girlfriend? What are you, fifteen? I do have to give you credit though. At least you didn't pretend to feign ignorance about her."

"Why would I? I've seen the society pages." 

"I always knew you were a smart one."

"Obviously not that smart. I'm knowingly fucking a married man."

"So leave."

His abrupt tone cut off her angry words. 

"W-w-what?"

"You heard me. If you can't handle this, then by all means go."He picked up his silver watch from the nightstand before sliding it onto his wrist. 

Rachel scoffed. "Fuck it, I'm going."Standing up from the bed, she slid into the black pencil skirt pooled at her feet. Snatching up the turquoise dress shirt, she hastily fastened the buttons while silently fuming. When she dared to look over at him, to her irritation he watched her, a look of pure amusement on his handsome face. 

"What the fuck is so funny?" she huffed as she stuffed her feet into her black Ferragamo pumps. 

"You," he said simply. "Attempting to take a stand." He was leaning casually against the door of the room, hands in his jean pockets, watching her as if she were a sitcom. 

"This is not me attempting to take a stand. This is me peacing the fuck out. I'm not going to let you talk to me like that. I don't have to take this shit." She was busy trying to search for her blazer when she felt him grab her roughly in his arms. She let out a sharp gasp; she hadn't even seen him cross the room. 

Rachel looked down at his hands, his fingers clenched firmly around her upper arms. "Brendan, let go of me."

"You may not have to take my shit, but you need it." His voice was low, the quietness making her shudder in spite of her anger. "You can't help it, you're drawn to me."

"No, Brendan. I'm tired of the games."

He chuckled softly. "No you're not. It's the only way you can get your kicks, gorgeous." He leaned closer, his lips mere centimeters away from her ear. "You like it when I take control, love the many ways I can make you come. Admit it."

His fingers began to caress her skin, moving slowly down her body before cupping her breasts. Rachel bit back a moan; she could already feel the pooling wetness between her legs and she cursed her traitorous body. 

Brendan grinned evilly, as if he could hear her thoughts. He knew. She would give in. She always did. 

He spun her around, pushing her back against the wall before his hands gripped the sides of her tight skirt and began to pull it up. She heard the fabric tear slightly and she groaned. 

"Brendan..."

"Say it. Go ahead and try to be brave. Tell me you don't want this cock inside you." He fumbled with his pants, undoing them before they slid down to pile at his feet. 

He wasn't even waiting for her responses anymore. Grabbing her hips, he lifted her roughly. "Be a good girl and wrap your legs around my waist."

She glared at him, her body on fire, craving him deeply but her eyes were still defiant. "Why should I?"

He cocked an eyebrow at her before rocking his hips into hers, his cock brushing against her clit. Rachel forgot herself, whimpering his name while gripping his shoulders tightly. 

Brendan's smile was triumphant. "Do it. Now."He was still smiling, but the steel in his voice told her he wasn't playing nice anymore. He lifted one shapely thigh, and she heard her skirt rip more. 

"Fuck the damn thing," he said tersely. "I'll get you a new one." He plunged in hard, a sharp hiss escaping his mouth. 

Rachel uttered a low moan, her other leg wrapping around his waist. He chuckled. "There's my good girl," he said as he pumped furiously. No soft strokes, no tender words. It was purely primal. He was marking his territory. 

And she loved it. 

Her hands clawed at his back as her body jerked upward with each sharp thrust. She was going to come soon. Her pussy clenched his cock so tightly it was almost painful. When she opened her hazels, she saw him watching her, his nebulous eyes shining. 

"You love it."It was clearly a statement. 

"Yes," she gasped. "I do."

His grip tightened on her hips as he rolled his pelvis, the movement causing both of them to cry out. Who was she fooling? She wasn't going anywhere. 

"Fuck, Brendan..." she whimpered. 

"Yes," he huffed, rolling his hips again before plunging hard. "Tell me what I want to hear, gorgeous. Tell me what we both know is true."

She was so close to heaven, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. "I-I-I'm yours," she rasped as her body began to tremble. 

He smiled, the sinister glint in his gaze making her moan. "That's right gorgeous, you are. And you aren't going anywhere, are you?"

"N-n-no."

"Good girl." He came in a sharp growl, releasing his seed inside her. He crushed his lips to hers, claiming her mouth as his own. She kissed him back with the same heated frenzy even as his cock continued to pump slowly inside her pussy. She was going to be sore as hell tomorrow, but she didn't care. Nothing else mattered except him.