“Can’t you?”
“Ugh,” she groans, attempting to turn away from me. Before she can get far, I grab her and tug her into me. She hits my chest with a soft little moan that gives my cock all sorts of ideas.
“Are you ready?” I ask.
“Ready for what?”
“This.” Then I kiss her like my fucking life depends on it.
I kiss her until she stops talking back, until her legs give out, until her eyes are unfocused and her breathing is ragged. I kiss her until her arms are wrapped around me tight. I kiss her until I can taste how badly she wants me.
It occurs to me that I should probably stop. But I can feel the wetness as I grind into her. She tastes sweet and hot and so fucking perfect.
I finally manage to pull away from her when my cock is about to break through my pants.
Alyssa’s pupils are blown, her eyes glazed. Her lips are swollen and parted and her face is flushed with the kind of glow that comes from pure, unbridled passion.
Fucking hell. I need her now.
I take her hand and pull her towards where we parked the car. She follows, stumbling a little, but I keep her steady and help her in before slipping into the seat beside her. The windows are tinted dark enough that no one can see what I do next.
I pull her into my lap and rip her skirt up. My cock is hard and throbbing. My balls are aching and heavy.
She whimpers when I grab the crotch of her panties and yank them to the side. I spread her legs wide and rub my tip along the wet slit between her folds.
Then I push my way in.
Alyssa whines as I start to rock back and forth inside her. I don’t give her time to get comfortable—I fuck her fast and hard and relentlessly, holding her legs apart until her thighs burn with the strain.
She pushes her palms into my chest and tries to catch her breath, but there is no rest. There is only pleasure.
There is only this.
My cock swells and lengthens inside her, and I can feel the cum churning up inside my balls. When she throws her head back again, her eyes are closed and her mouth is hanging open. She is lost. Lost to the feeling. Lost to the pleasure. Lost to me.
We rock together faster and faster, the car bouncing with our motion as the smell of sex and sweat gets denser. She is so fucking close to the peak.
So am I.
Then, right when it’s about to happen, I slam my mouth onto hers, swallowing her scream. I feel the first burst of her orgasm and it pushes me over the edge.
I grunt as I bury myself in her. Her pussy clamps down on me, milking every last drop.
After what feels like an eternity, with a mournful sigh, I let her go. My eyes lull closed and Alyssa plasters herself against me.
We stay like that for a long time, drifting in and out of awareness. And then my attention focuses on something: Alyssa's fingers at the back of my head. She's curling them through my hair and it occurs to me out of absolutely fucking nowhere that this gesture is a billion times more intimate than anything I should be allowing. It's the most brutal post-orgasm clarity of my life. Like I'm only just now hearing the whole fucking chorus of voices in my head screaming, THIS IS A MISTAKE.
Bringing her into my world. Letting her see into the dark nooks and crannies. I told her about my parents, for fuck's sake. I let her bond with Lev. I let her bond with me!
And now, she thinks we can hold each other in a hot, sweaty car, still vibrating with each other's pleasure, and do things like stroke hair or hold hands.
I can't allow that.
Not for her sake.
Not for mine.
38
ALYSSA
Something shifts, and I don’t know when it happened. One moment, we’re having the best car sex in the history of vehicular fornication—the next, Uri is holding part of himself away from me. I can feel it, sense it, as surely as if he slammed a door in my face and pocketed the key.
The car ride home is silent. He says nothing and doesn’t touch me as we park and get out. I’m heading up the stairs when Uri stops suddenly. I turn to look at him, wondering why his face looks so stormy. “It’s Friday,” he rumbles.
“So?”
His jaw is clenched tight. “Our arrangement still stands.”
His eyes veer towards the basement door and I freeze. Hadn’t we eaten together? Gone out together? Exchanged stories about past traumas and the loved ones we’d lost?
Was that all in my head? The way he’s looking at me now says, Did you really think you were any different than the women who came before you?
“Will you at least tell me why?” I croak.
“No.”
He seems to swallow up the entire night in that one small word. Everything I experienced tonight, everything I felt, is washed away like it meant nothing at all.
“Is it because you’re entertaining another woman up here?”
His face doesn’t shift at all. “It doesn’t matter why. You’ll go down to the basement because I told you to. You promised to behave. Now, fucking behave.”
And just like that, with just a few words, he’s reduced me down to a prisoner. He’s put me back in my place and reminded me of the truth of our situation. I’m not his guest or his friend and I’m certainly not his girlfriend. He’s not beholden to me for anything. He doesn’t owe me any explanations.
He just says jump. I ask only how high.
I shove past him and descend into the basement. The moment I walk through that door, the darkness hits me and I feel a sob at the back of my throat.
What fresh hell is this? How am I back here after a week of freedom?
But I was never really free, now, was I? It was all just an illusion.
I got caught up in the moment, drawn to his confidence and his charisma. Wrapped up in the brother and the son that he was. Taken by how protective he seemed to be of the people closest to him.
And I was foolish enough to believe for a second there that I might be one of them.
Once the lock on the basement door turns, I slump over to the bed and lie down in it. Fetal position, of course, because it’s just that kind of night.
I’ve been so swept away in the events of the last week—picnic lunches with Lev, long conversations with Uri, just the general ease of life above ground—that I completely pushed aside the stuff that matters to me.
Like Elle for instance. Her bridal shower. Her wedding. I was supposed to be there for all of it!
But instead, I’d dropped her a vague text message, per Uri’s instructions, and then disappeared on her. She must think I’m the worst fucking friend on the planet. And I wouldn’t blame her.
Now, in addition to the heartbreak, I have guilt to contend with.
After an hour of tossing and turning, I end up in the shower, trying to scrub his scent from my skin. The whole time I’m getting pelted with cold water, I berate myself for being a naïve idiot. Then I get into my coziest pajamas and get into bed, resolving to be smarter than I have been.
And even so, my last thought before I drift off to sleep is, Is he watching me?