He smirked and pressed his thumb against my clit, the pressure alone was enough to make my hips buck and sway against the table. “You should have thought of this before you came without my permission,” he murmured, smirking. He circled his thumb and I cried out, pleasure and pain shocking through my system in equal measure.
“Fuck, Zayne,” I managed to gasp.
He laughed between thrusts, his own breath still coming hard. “Come again, Clove.”
“I… can’t…” I whispered, though my hips had begun to move of their own accord, thrusting up against him, grinding his thumb against my clit.
“Yes you can. Come for me.”
My mouth fell open, my eyes unfocused, the pressure intolerable, unstoppable. It was too much, too much pleasure, my body was on fire, I’d never reach the peak.
“Come for me, slut.”
My pussy clenched at that, turned on by his reckless tone, his possessive attitude. He circled his thumb again and I writhed against the table. Fuck, he was right, I was going to come again. I could barely keep my eyes open, barely focus on anything in the room.
“Come. Now.”
I screamed something. Gibberish. Maybe his name mixed in there somewhere, I didn’t know. I was lost in the cloud of pleasure, fire sparking through my veins. I felt my pussy spasm and tighten around his cock, felt him drop his hand to grab my hips with both hands. My body shook, and my vision was clouded with bright spots of color as the orgasm continued to wash over me, through me, take control.
A moment later, Zayne’s hips collided with mine and he let out a guttural growl. I felt warm, hot cum shooting inside me as he groaned and kept thrusting into me, until finally, he leaned against me, exhausted, and I let my legs drop to either side of him and pulled him down against my chest, our sweaty bodies pressed together, cool and hot all at once, his cock still deep inside me, pulsing with the aftershocks of his orgasm.
“Fuck,” I’d murmured, but he only laughed and turned to kiss my lips once, softly.
“I want to keep doing this to you forever, Clove,” he’d whispered against my mouth. “I haven’t felt like this for someone so fast in…” He shook his head, met my gaze, his eyes suddenly full of emotion, searing through me. “Ever,” he breathed, and my heart skipped in my chest.
“Neither have I,” I confessed, my voice soft, low. We leaned in, let our foreheads rest together and gazed directly into one another’s eyes for a long, quiet moment. Just drinking this in. Realizing that both of us were feeling the same height of emotion.
Then he’d smiled, a mischievous grin. “My hour isn’t up yet,” he reminded me, and…
I shake my head. This isn’t helping. None of this is. I pull my hands out of my jeans, my clit still swollen and sore, aching for release. But I ignore it, push the fantasy out of my head. I remember what happened next, and I don’t want to think about it. Not right now. Not now that I know who Zayne really is.
A liar, for one thing. A lie by omission is still a lie, and who knows if that’s the only lie he told me?
That night at poker, he said I needed to get better at lying. Maybe he was speaking from experience.
I finish writing the email to the company and hit send. Then I dare a glance at my phone. 27 missed calls, 13 new voicemails, and 122 texts. Ugh.
I scroll straight past all the unfamiliar numbers, ignoring the occasional slurs that I catch glimpses of in them. Slut, whore, cunt.
I scroll past until I reach my text thread with Andy and Celeste. By now it’s almost 5pm, and our workday will be ending. I might not be able to contribute in the office right now, but I can still meet them after work.
Emergency post-work margaritas? I ask, and it doesn’t take long before the two yes’s pour in. Love that about my work besties. I can always count on them for a drink when I really, really need to vent.
I head downstairs again.
Zayne is in the lobby. I spot him even before he turns around, his stance and the familiar slope of his shoulders immediately recognizable. What was I thinking? I ask myself for the millionth time. Getting involved with someone here, someone I’ll never be able to escape.
I try to breeze past, but his voice stops me dead halfway to the door.
“Clove.”
I stop in the middle of the hallway, shoulders hunched. There’s a couple of other people around, so we both, without discussing it, wait for them to clear out. Wait until it’s just me and Zayne alone in the hallway. When I steal a glance at the doors ahead of me, I catch his reflection in them, his gaze fixed on me. He looks so different in uniform. Hotter, somehow, if that’s possible.