Burned Read Free

fucking wet. We go down to the floor together.
    “I’m sick of feeling like this,” she hisses. “I hate my life. I hate everything about it!” She strangles me with my tie, clumsy in her haste to get it off. Still living in the world where boys undress completely and girls lie back and wait. Only two things need to be naked.
    “Fuck the tie. Unzip my pants.”
    She yanks it open so hard she breaks the zipper of my ten-thousand-dollar suit. I pick her up by the waist of her jeans and dump her out of them. She pushes up from the floor to turn but I’m behind her. I shove her back to the floor. “Stay there. I want you this way.”
    “But you said I could—”
    “Your turn next.”
    “This is about me, remember? That’s what you said. I want what I want now .”
    “Try, Ms. Lane, just try.”
    To her credit, she does. But I’m stronger. I get my way first,not that she’s complaining from the noise she’s making. Fist in her hair, I spread her legs wide as they’ll go, crush her flat to the floor. Later I’ll take her on her hands and knees. Now I need her still as I can keep her. I grind between her legs and she makes a choking noise. Slick with all that wet she supposedly wasn’t, I drive into her. Air explodes from us both. She arches her neck and howls. I don’t move for a moment. Movement will fuck me royally right now.
    She bucks beneath me. “Move, you bastard!”
    “When I’m ready.”
    I close my hands on her ribs. She fights. She’ll be bruised in the morning. I dredge up a few hated memories. My blood goes cold. I get harder. I begin to move, lose track of time. Four hours feel like four minutes. For something so soft, she takes her fucking hard, with a twist. I taste her. I could eat her alive. She closes her mouth on my dick. I close my hands on her head. I might not let her go. Slick with sweat, I defile her with reverence. Or revere her with defilement. Every. Inch. Of. Her. Motherfuckingfinebody. She likes it. No holds barred with this woman. I wouldn’t have believed it of her. And she does scream …
    Later I roll over on my back and let her rock her world all over me. Fuck if she doesn’t.
    She straddles me, ass to my face, reverse cowgirl, tangled hair swinging. And son of a bitch, the woman can ride. “Slow down.” I close my hands on her ass to keep her from jacking me off in seconds.
    She pushes up, drops her head down into a wet dream of a naked crouch that doesn’t have one fucking ounce of inhibition, and shoots me a feral look between her legs, around my dick. “Stop holding me,” she snaps. “You’re a control freak. This turn is mine. Do what I tell you. If that means you comeand get hard again, deal with it.” She arches a brow. “Unless I’m wearing you out.”
    I smirk and say nothing. She knows by now that’s impossible.
    “Don’t think this means I want to see you tomorrow.” She’s back at it and I’m about to explode.
    “I suffer no such delusion. And ditto,” I say savagely. She knows exactly how to work me, sliding up to the point where I’m almost out of her, teasing the head of my cock with short, fast pops of her hips before slamming down and easing back out slow. Pretty, pink Barbie fucks hard and raw like an animal.
    Her head is thrown back, spine arched, she’s oblivious to rules, to moral order, to all but inner imperatives.
    And I wonder: could she live like she fucks?
    My dick gets even harder.
    I leave just before dawn.
    At the door I turn back and look at her. And shake my head. Her back is to me. She’s wrapped a sheet around herself.
    “Mac.”
    She turns slowly and I say Fuck beneath my breath. Already she’s changing. It began when I started putting my clothes on. Now it’s nearly complete. Her eyes are different. Wary, guarded, tinged with that human emotion I despise the most: regret. I was wrong. She wasn’t ready. Not yet.
    By noon she’ll hate me. By tonight she’ll have convinced herself I raped her. By tomorrow