Chloe took me in her hand—I hadn’t softened even a little—and she positioned me right at that warm, soft spot I couldn’t wait to bury myself in.
I tried not to be greedy—I swear I did—but when she eased down one inch, then two, and then stopped, I almost fucking lost it. Her muscles clenched around me and she groaned, adjusting to my size. Biting my lower lip, I knew I was done holding back. She gave and gave, and I took. I gripped her hips and thrust up—hard—burying myself balls deep in one violent shove.
Chloe cried out and flattened both of her hands against my abs. “Jesus, Shaw.”
“You know you like it.” I thrust up again, letting her take every solid inch of me. I loved how she felt around me. She was warmth and perfection and sunshine all wrapped up in one sweet package.
“I love it,” she said, correcting me. “Do that again.”
I held her hips in place and pounded up into her again and again. Her tits bounced with the force and we both cried out. I knew she was close, and also knew that meant I needed to slow down my pace. But I wasn’t about to do that.
“You like riding that big cock.” I rubbed her exposed clit in slow circles and she moaned. “Just like you rode my face earlier.”
She moaned again and circled her hips over me.
“That’s right. Get it, baby. Just like that.”
Soon I felt her muscles clamp down around me. A few more thrusts and she was coming—coating me in her warm juices and trembling in my arms. I followed her over the brink, losing myself in her until my mind was blank and my body felt blissfully empty.
After disposing of the condom, I tugged on my jeans and T-shirt.
“You all right?” I asked, slipping my feet back into my shoes. My heart was still pounding and my skin slightly damp.
“Of course,” Chloe said, lifting her chin. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“’Night, Sunshine.” I leaned down where she still sat naked on the center of her bed and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead.
“Good night,” she murmured and watched me leave with sad eyes.
Fuck.
This was why I let myself indulge only once a week—every Wednesday. It seemed like a decent compromise. I didn’t want to fuck up totally and monopolize all of Chloe’s free time. She didn’t sign up for this. She was a beautiful, young, single woman who needed to live her life. So I treated myself as infrequently as I could tolerate—which was once every seven days.
I left without another word, heading out into the dark of night. The last thing I needed was her brother seeing me. I was already getting tired of the judgmental glares he gave me when he noticed Chloe tending to me like a stray puppy.
As I crawled into my own bed that night, spent and satisfied, Chloe’s scent still clinging to my skin, I knew I was going to sleep like a baby.
I closed my eyes and replayed images of our erotic evening. The way her hair fell over one shoulder while she rode me. The way her tight, lithe body gripped mine when she came. Damn.
Briefly I wondered if I should feel guilty, if I should feel bad about using her body for the escape it provided. But I didn’t. Not even a little. If she wanted to be there for me in this way, I was content to let her. For as long as she was willing.
I only wished I could stop this fucking ache in my chest, especially because I didn’t know if it was for Samantha or Chloe.
Chapter Five
Chloe
“What’s going on with Shaw?” my friend Courtney asked over the rim of her third margarita.
“What do you mean?” I took a sip of my own icy concoction, feeling the innuendo behind her question burning deep in my gut.
“It’s been eight months. Is he dating anyone?”
There was no need for her to clarify that statement. It had been eight months since Samantha died. Eight months since everything changed. It had become the new passage of time by which everything was marked.
I shrugged. “I don’t think he’s ready.”
It was Saturday night and we were hanging out at Hank’s—a bar in town. It wasn’t one of the tourist-friendly places on the beach with chic decor and expensive drinks. It was just a hole-in-the-wall bar that all the locals knew. Dusty black-and-white photos of sunsets and palm trees on the walls, and rickety wooden bar stools scattered among the dozens of high-top tables.
“I heard he’s seeing someone,” our friend Lynne chimed in.
My temper rose to the surface. He’d better not be. “Where did you hear that?” I tried to keep the emotion from my voice, but I wasn’t sure I succeeded.
Lynne flicked her gaze out over the sea of bodies. The hour was late enough, or rather people were intoxicated enough, that the center of the room had turned in a makeshift dance floor, just like it did every Saturday night.
“From my hairstylist at my appointment last week. Rumor has it he has a new fuck buddy, but it’s no one serious.”
My gut twisted painfully.
“Speak of the devil.” Courtney snickered.
I followed her line of sight toward the far end of the room. Shaw stood at the bar, which was packed three-deep, waiting to order. He was tall enough, though, that he towered over almost everyone.
I forced my eyes away. I hadn’t heard from him since he left my place Wednesday night, not that I’d expected to.
“Whoever he’s fucking is his business,” I muttered, taking solace in my drink, which was now running dangerously low.
I’d never considered the possibility that he was sleeping with someone else. The thought of him seeking that level of intimate solace with another girl made my chest ache.