I FELT HIM BEFORE I KNEW HE WAS HERE. THAT sounds silly, but it’s the truth. There was a shift in the energy during my dance, and I gave in to the feeling, a heaviness taking over and making my movements more sensual, less rushed. I just didn’t know it was him until I opened my eyes.
When I’m dancing, I’m in an altered state; my mind turns off and my body takes over, and I find blissful relief from the chaos that’s constantly going on in the world. I’m just…me. And today, I needed the escape.
It doesn’t surprise me that Cade’s here. That he followed me.
That’s what he does, and I’ve gone far beyond the scope of pretending that I don’t enjoy his attention. We’re toxic for each other; therapists would tell me to scream as loud as I can and run in the opposite direction. But I’ve never been one for doing what I’m told.
The only thing I’ve ever truly been lacking in is courage. Courage to stand up against the bullies of the town. To not let other people control my life. To dive headfirst into something that could be the greatest thing I’ve ever known, even though it’s fucking terrifying to think of losing it once it’s mine.
I’ve spent years working tirelessly to keep everything structured and rigid. Unbendable and routine. Both for Quinten’s sake and also for mine. When you don’t have deviations from your day, you never meet the unexpected. Every interaction I had was controlled, kept at arm’s length. I thought that keeping my heart locked up tight and Quinten and I in a tiny little bubble would protect anyone else from doing what our mother did.
You can’t get hurt if you don’t let anyone in.
I thought that’s what made me strong.
But somehow, Cade worked his way through the shield, and maybe that’s what true strength really is. Allowing yourself the chance to be hurt and finding your faith through the fear.
So when I open my eyes and see Cade leaning up against the wall like he’s exactly where he’s meant to be, I give in.
Fully. Freely. Without restraint.
I’m tired of resisting. Tired of worrying about what everyone else thinks and whether Quinten and I will ever fit into the mold.
Tired of caring at all, if I’m completely honest.
The music fades away, one song ending and leaving a few beats of strained silence as we’re both locked in each other’s gazes, and then a new one starts. Slower. Softer. Sultrier.
The bass pulses through me like a living thing and propels me forward toward Cade.
He’s staring at me, because he’s always staring at me, and I hold his gaze, knowing he likes it when I do.
My hips sway from side to side as I move to him, and when I’m a few steps away, his hand reaches out and flicks the lock on the door, turning to face me straight on.
I stop when I’m in front of him, looking up into his eyes. A slow smile creeps on my face. “Hi.”
He straightens off the wall, and my stomach flips in anticipation when he starts to remove his gloves, one finger at a time.
His gaze eats me up, trailing from my exposed collarbone down the length of my sports bra and over my exposed stomach to my shorts and naked legs, then back up again. “Hello, petite pécheresse.”
He slips his gloves into his coat pocket and then moves to unbutton it, taking it off entirely and laying it next to him, not caring that it’s on the dirty wood floor.
I wait, not wanting to utter another word. Terrified if I do, the spell will be broken. We both might come to our senses and remember we’re not supposed to meet like this. We’re not supposed to be.
The thought propels me into action, because if this is our moment, I’m going to grab on to it with both hands. My palms reach out and rest on his torso, his abs tensing beneath my hands. I glide my fingers up the length of him, spreading them over his chest as I take a step closer until our bodies are centimeters from touching.
Cade stands silent and still as he looks down at me, his eyes dark and fierce. This free rein over his body is intoxicating, and I’m drunk on the feel. I wonder what changed, what made him finally give in to whatever this is between us so fully, but truthfully, I’m finding it hard to care for the why as long as it is.
The music continues pulsing, and I explore him more, slipping my fingers beneath the collar of his shirt, rubbing back and forth, wishing I was feeling the heat of his skin and not the fabric of his button- down.
I rise on my tiptoes, pressing a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw, and his hands snake out and grip me around the waist, dragging my body flush to his. I suck in a breath at his erection pressing into me, and my fingers dig into his shoulders when his press deeply into my back.
“Do not tease me, Amaya,” he growls.
“Nobody’s teasing,” I assure, pressing another kiss to his chin and pushing myself further against him. “I need you, Cade.”
He lets out a deep sigh before pushing me back slightly, letting go of my waist and grabbing my hand instead.
I look down at our tangled fingers, my brows drawing in at the simple touch and the way it makes me feel like fireworks are exploding inside my chest. He moves us across the room until we’re back by the pole, and he lets me go, sitting down in the chair and gripping my hips, maneuvering my body until I’m standing in between his open legs.
“Dance for me,” he commands.
“Did you ever come to see me at the club?” I ask. “Beyond that first time we met, I mean.”
He watches me but takes his time answering. His hands move from my hips down the outsides of my thighs, his fingers teasing the bottom of my shorts and slipping beneath the fabric, tickling my skin with his feathery touches. And then he moves them around until he’s palming the meat of my ass and pulling me down onto his lap, my legs situating themselves on either side of his hips. My pussy throbs when it feels how hard he is against me, and I have to keep from grinding down on his thick cock.
“Do you want me to say yes, petite pécheresse?” He leans in, licking along the shell of my ear. “It wouldn’t be a lie. I’ve been everywhere you are. Watching you. Aching for you. Killing for you.” I moan when he thrusts up into me, his length dragging along the seam of my shorts, and a thrill zips through me like electricity, lighting me up from the inside out.
I’m desperate for more of his words.
More of his obsession.
More of his truth.
“Are you scared yet, mon trésor?” He presses a kiss to my neck before biting down on the flesh and sucking, marking my skin with his mouth.
“No,” I say on an exhale.
And it’s the most honest thing I’ve ever said. I know what he’s just admitted to me, have known deep down for a while, if I’m honest. And maybe I should be running away, disgusted by who he is and what he represents. But I don’t. And I’m not.
Cade makes me feel free. Makes me feel seen.
He makes me feel loved.
And I don’t care about anything else.
His right hand moves from my hip and skates up my side until he’s threading it into the hair on the back of my head— his favorite spot— and tugging until my back arches. His tongue glides from the side of my neck, and he presses kisses against my throat, and I sink into my weight, pushing my clit against him.
“Good,” he whispers against my skin. “I would never hurt you. I’m sorry I ever did.” Another sharp sting pierces me when he nips my skin, and then he leans back, his fingers flexing in my hair. “Dance for me, mon trésor.” So I do.
I rotate my hips, my eyelids fluttering when his erection glides along my sensitive nerves in just the right way, and I repeat the motion, wanting to skip the foreplay and take out his cock so it can slide deep inside me. I know he’ll make it hurt so good.
My body rolls, my chest ghosting across his lips with every forward thrust, and I move to lift my sports bra, fingering the hem before ripping it off altogether and tossing it somewhere to the side.
His pupils dilate and then his mouth is on my breast, his tongue flicking against the nipple before he sucks, hard.
“Jesus, Cade,” I moan, my hand flying to the back of his head as I grind against his dick.
“Watch your mouth.” He groans against me, then moves to pay attention to my other side, and I’m so wet I’m sure I’m leaving a stain on his pants. But I don’t care. I need him to fuck me or I think I might die.
“Cade,” I mumble, my clit aching more with every pass over his lap. “Please.”
He releases my nipple with a pop, his hand leaving my hair and moving to his zipper. I rise up slightly and he undoes his pants, and then his cock is in his hand, precum leaking from the tip. My mouth waters. I rip myself away from where I’m sitting and drop to my knees, swallowing him down my throat before he can tell me no.
“Fuck,” he moans, his hand going back to fist my hair.
He never curses, and it sends a shot of desire rippling through me, the salty taste of him coating my tongue as I move up and down his length.
“That’s it, petite pécheresse. Take it down your throat until you choke.” He punctuates his words with a sharp thrust, and the tip of him gags me, my eyes watering as he buries himself to the hilt and holds himself there.
I breathe through my nose, desire cramping my stomach.
My head is ripped back, and his dick slides out, angry and throbbing, a thin line of saliva attaching from the head to my lips. I move forward again, my tongue swirling around the tip, desperate for more.
He tsks, jerking the strands of my hair until I wince. The sharp shot of pain makes me see stars, and my pussy is on fire from how badly I need to come. Leaning down, he nips my bottom lip, his tongue swiping along the seam of my mouth and dipping inside like he’s trying to taste himself on me.
I need him like I need air.
“Tell me I can have you,” he murmurs against me. “Tell me that you’re mine.”
“Yours. Yes. Please,” I beg. My body trembles as he pulls me up to a standing position, his hands slipping beneath the waistband of my shorts and dragging them down my legs, torturously slow. My heart slams against my ribs as I let him set the pace.
As I give up control and surrender to anything he’s willing to give me.
My shorts are tossed to the side, and then his large palm is on the front of my cotton panties and he pulls, the fabric burning my skin deliciously as it tears.
He grips me firmly by the hips and pulls me back onto his lap, and when my pussy touches his naked cock, we both let out a moan.
I have dreamed of this moment.
Thought about it every time I slipped my own fingers inside my cunt and longed for it to be him.
“Fuck me till it hurts, Cade. Please.”
“I’m not going to fuck you, Amaya.” He pulls my hips forward, my pussy drenching his cock from how wet I am.
I whine, squeezing my eyes closed.
One of his hands leaves my hip and cups my cheek. I lean into the touch.
“I’m going to love you. Because loving you hurts so much more.”
My heart explodes and he slams me down on his cock, our hips slapping together as he fills me with every thick inch.
He lifts me up slightly with his other hand and then brings me down again, starting a punishing rhythm immediately, and my mind is collapsing and expanding like a galaxy is being born into the stars.
We’re a mess of limbs and sloppy kisses and fingers that tug and pull. It’s dirty, filthy, angry, and it feels like we’re on borrowed time.
“God, Cade, you feel— ” My voice chokes out as he fucks up into me and steals my breath.
I slip my hand down the front of my stomach, my fingers barely touching my clit before he rips my touch away. “Non,” he says. “When you’re with me, you’re with me.”
He covers my palm with his and moves us both back to my pussy, his thrusts slowing down as he maneuvers our fingers into a V shape so we surround his length, my hands growing slippery from my wetness on his skin. I lift up slightly so I can feel more of him under my fingers and then lower back down, tension coiling tightly in my abdomen when I touch where he disappears inside me.
I suck in a shaky breath.
“Feel yourself on me, mon trésor? How you drench my cock and how well I fill you up?” He thrusts again, his other hand moving to cup the back of my neck, dragging me forward until our foreheads touch. “Eyes on me, Amaya.”
Our gazes lock.
I breathe out. He breathes in.
Everything about us feels connected, and it’s intoxicating, making my head spin and my body buzz.
“No other man can make you feel like this,” he grits out.
“Cade,” I whisper.
“Say it, Amaya.”
“Only you,” I moan, heat winding into a tight ball at the base of my spine and exploding.
And then I come, my body shaking and my pussy clenching painfully around him, until it feels like my soul is leaving my body and flying into heaven.
He groans, long and low against me, and his cock pulses as he paints my insides with his cum.
I collapse against him, trying to catch my breath.
My body aches and my soul is sated, and I close my eyes and press my ear against his chest, letting myself relax to the sound of his beating heart.
He’s right.
Our love hurts so much more.
