Hitchhiker (13 page)

I needed these off, too. Finding some courage, I grasped both sides of the elastic and pulled down. They slid so slowly, and his cock sprang free, resting against his stomach. My only thought was,
good God, he’s bigger than I thought.
I’d been with only a handful of other men, and Dawson was by far the largest of them all. I knew that it would be a struggle to get all of him in my mouth, but it was certainly going to feel amazing when he pushed inside of me. Scraping my nails up the inside of his thigh, I traced a line around his cock and watched with utter amusement when it jumped slightly at my nearness.

I was lying on my side, and I glanced up at Dawson. I thought he had closed his eyes, but he was watching my every move. We made eye contact, and I felt my cheeks redden.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“What do you want me to do about that?” I’d never spoken in such a flirtatious manner.

“Off… now!” he demanded.

I pulled the covers up over my hips, refusing to be completely exposed, and proceeded to take off my clothes. I wished he would have done it, but at the same time, the atmosphere in the room was still slightly playful, and I didn’t mind. I kept my panties on just because I wasn’t sure if he meant get
naked
naked or if he meant just lose the pants. My black bra was still on, and for whatever reason, my covered breasts gave me slight security.

“Now what?” I asked, smiling up at the ceiling.

He rolled over to my side. Nudging my cheek with his nose, he nibbled on my earlobe and goosebumps broke out over my skin. Any spot in that area was a massive erogenous zone and he was hitting every little inch of it. Taking one of his free hands, he pushed under the covers and wasted no time in sliding his finger past the side of my underwear. I could feel my own slickness when his index finger rubbed against my clit. My back arched, and I reached out and grasped his bicep. He flicked up and down, coating me with the wetness. A small quiver broke out of me, and I was already close to coming. I wasn’t ready yet. I wanted him to be inside of me. I was past the point of need for it. I had zero inhibitions at this point. When you’re that worked up, the brain shuts down any other emotion except the ability to seek pleasure. Yanking my panties off, I boldly slung my opposite leg over his hip and straddled him. He wasn’t expecting that move.

He grasped my hips and held them firmly. “No, Chandler.”

Leaning down, I wasn’t above begging for it. I’d probably cry right now if he didn’t finish what he’d started. “Please, Dawson.
Please
. I want you. Please.”

“Are you sure?” He was breathing hard, and I knew it wasn’t going to take much to break him down.

I grasped his cock in my hand and lifted myself up high enough. He was holding me too still to come down right then.

“Yes, I’m sure. Now, I need you. Please.” I still held his massive size in my hand as I leaned forward and licked his lips, teasing him with my tongue. He opened his mouth, waiting for me to give him more, but I pulled back. That was it. That was the tipping point. I teased him enough to push him over the edge.

“I’m not wearing a condom.” He spoke too seriously for me to want to even acknowledge. But I was of the mind that I really didn’t care. I knew it was reckless and stupid. I knew that there was risk involved. Not just with pregnancy, but I had no way to know if he’d protected himself with the others. None of it fucking mattered. I wanted to act now and regret later. Because this was how he made me.

Crazy-fucking-stupid.

“I don’t care,” I ground out. He nodded. I knew this would feel better for him like this, anyway.

He lined his own hips up with mine, and I slowly fed his length inside of me. His size prevented me from pushing down hard and fast like I wanted to. Even though I was soaking wet, he would hurt me if I did. He was about halfway in when I lifted back up to continue allowing my body to adjust to him. He must’ve decided that he couldn’t wait my second time down because he held me immobile and slammed his entire cock inside of me. I gasped. It felt incredible, but pain came along with the pleasure. He did this several times, and each time, he hit that spot deep within that made me want to scream, but then a sharp pinch would cause me to suck back any sound.

It didn’t take long for me to reach my first climax, despite the discomfort. My toes curled, and my legs shook. I panted and softly said his name. He knew I was coming because he pushed up, rooted himself deep inside my pussy, and ground his hips in a rocking motion, drawing out my gratification.

My nails dug into the pillow by his head, but he gave me no reprieve. Dawson continued fucking me with different motions from hard to soft, and fast to slow. I came two more times, and I was completely and utterly fucked senseless. If someone asked me my name, I’d probably look at them and say, ‘I have a name?’

“Oh God, I’m going to come again. I need you to finish.” I barely got out the words as he pumped into me.

“Nuh-uh. This feels too good.” His chest was heaving and I could tell by his breathing that he must be approaching his own release.

“Yes,” I demanded. “I don’t know how much more I can go.”

He met my hips twice more and it tipped me over the edge. I softly said his name, while my legs threatened to give out. “Oh, my God, please.”

“Where do you want me to finish? Do you want me to pull out?”

Okay, I’d never been asked this question before. Seth and I used condoms when we had sex, and I wasn’t on any birth control. For whatever reason, when he asked me this, an image of what Dawson coming inside me could bring went through my head. The whole ‘regret later’ didn’t seem like a feasible option right now. Either I wanted this or I didn’t.

“Don’t pull out.”

At my response, his hands released my hips and took hold of my ass and he guided me at the rhythm he wanted—fast and hard. When he came, no noise escaped except a change in his breathing, and he shook slightly from the power of it. I teasingly let myself move up and down a couple of more times when I knew he was finished just to draw more out of him, but my legs weren’t having any more.

“We need to clean up,” he said with a chuckle. “Got a towel anywhere?”

Really? I was lying with my cheek against his chest, and he was still hard and inside me. I wasn’t ready to move. “No.”

“You’re pretty wet; it’s going to be a mess.”

“Shhhh… I can’t move. Hold on.” In other words,
shut up so I can lay here and feel this.

He squirmed underneath me, causing him to slip out of me, and we both moved at that point.

“Gah, really?” I grumbled.

“Shut up and find me a towel.” He laughed. I didn’t find it funny.

I happened to have one on the other side of the bed from my shower I’d taken earlier and hadn’t rehung it. Using it to clean myself first, I then passed it over to him. I kept the covers high while he didn’t seem to mind that he was out in the open. Well hell, why should he? Male perfection. When he finished what he was doing, he searched for his underwear and put them back on.

I expected us to go back to our usual nightly routine—talking and sharing. It shocked me when, instead, Dawson rolled in the opposite direction from me and started to fall asleep. I laid there staring at his back, dumbfounded. There was no post-sex cuddling. No exchange of kind words. He didn’t even breathe in the same direction as me. He was cold, distant, and shut off. What did I do wrong?

I’d literally just done two things I never thought I’d do. The first being that I’d cheated on my soon-to-be husband. In all my years and relationships, I’d never cheated. I’d been cheated on, but I was never the offender. The second was that I just took a huge risk by letting him come inside me. I stupidly allowed myself to feel so connected to him that I
wanted
a piece of him. In my head, it didn’t feel like it was wrong to maybe want something as grown-up as having a baby together, but I also knew enough to realize that was a completely insane thought to have. Nobody said they wanted a child with someone after only knowing them for a month.

That was how long I’d been gone. Time with him was moving so fast, and yet when I stopped to think about it, I’d not done much soul-searching for those missing pieces I’d thought I’d lost. The person who was occupying my space and currently snoring softly consumed me. My emotions took a hit that Dawson didn’t seem to take into account that I might need something more from him than just a ‘wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am’ sexual encounter. I needed reassurance that I didn’t do anything wrong. I wanted to know that he enjoyed it as much as I did. And more than that, I wanted him to hold me and make me feel like I meant something more to him than the girls he slept with and left the next morning. Was I really any different from them? Did I make myself too available? Or was he using me? I mean, I
was
giving him a place to live, completely rent-free with zero obligations. It was possible.

I didn’t sleep hardly at all that night. When I did finally crash, I woke back up to an empty bed that was cold to the touch. He’d left at some point and I was certain he was in his room. I did my best to suck back the need I felt to shed tears. I knew I wasn’t fooling myself with his interest in me. He gave me more of himself than he gave any of the others. And somewhere deep down, I knew I meant something to Dawson. Now, if I could only get
him
to acknowledge that he cared…

I WISH I COULD SAY THAT
after what happened between Dawson and myself, it solidified something more but
,
unfortunately, it didn’t. We had sex several more times. But I’d found out about other hook-ups and random girls he’d had. Each one of them was a blow to my ego, and I’d become curious about them. Pulling out my cell phone, I would look them up on social media. I became obsessed with finding out what was so different about them versus myself. I had no idea what propelled me to do this every single time, but I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night unless I did. Actually, I couldn’t sleep at night regardless of when I’d find out about them. He had no idea how bad it was hurting me. But I refused to express any of it to him, not after the fight we’d had.

There was a couple of times when he’d come in the house, and he’d have the same look on his face that he did the first time. That look would quickly shift to one that said, ‘I dare you to open your mouth.’ I felt like I was screaming on the inside and nobody could hear me. The only thing that was keeping me sane was the times when we were alone. I cherished them. He was someone else when the world was quiet, the room was dark, and it was just him and me. His harsh edges faded away, and his eyes softened. His voice would gentle and I could feel who he really was. The world should be jealous that I got to see him like that. But yet, I was jealous that I couldn’t show the world that he gave that side to me. We were in our private spot out here in this house. A bubble. And when he’d leave our bubble, I’d sit with anxiety wondering if he would do it again.

On this particular day, I had no idea I would be the one causing jealousy. It was a weekend and I’d just gotten off the phone with my dad. He told me that Seth needed a phone call and soon. He told my dad that what I was doing was complete bullshit, and I shouldn’t be out on my own like this. Frankly, I didn’t know what the difference was. He was always gone to New York anyway, and I sat in that massive house by myself five days out of the week. At least here, I was finding some sort of resemblance of happiness.

“I’m running into town to get some groceries and a pizza. Wanna come?” I asked as I slid into my boots.

Dawson was drinking a cup of coffee and watching a movie on my laptop. “Sure.”

I didn’t think he’d go, but I smiled when he said yes. Getting in the Rover, I let him drive because I had become accustomed to letting him chauffeur whenever we went somewhere together. During the fifteen minutes on the road, I had turned up the radio and was singing along to some country songs, which made him roll his eyes and say I needed to listen to real music. I put my hand up and told him to hush.

Pulling up to the largest of the three markets, we both got out and made our way to the store. We put things in the cart that we needed as staples in the house but also random things we were craving. I laughed when he put Hot Pockets in the basket.

“What?” He shrugged.

“How on Earth does a guy like you,
built
like you, stay like that when you are walking around eating Hot Pockets? I eat those and it would take a month to work off.”

“I don’t know. Good genetics?” he guessed.

“Hmm, must be.”

He glowered at me when I picked out my favorite ice cream, but I simply smiled at him. Up at the front of the store, we were both putting food on the belt when I heard my name.

“Chandler Owens, is that you?”

Turning around, I was face to face with a little old man who was exactly my height with white hair and a cane that was holding his frail body up. I recognized him. It was Mr. Raymond.

“Oh my God, Mr. Raymond, how are you?” I leaned in and gave him a gentle hug.