Shine Not Burn (29 page)

“Oh my god,” I said, holding onto his shoulders, looking down at where we were joined.
 
“What’s happening?”

“I’m going to come inside you now,” he said.

I looked up to see a fierce expression bearing down on me.
 
His nostrils were flared wide and his jaw clenched.
 
His blue eyes were stormy with passion, his hair drenched and hanging down over his forehead.
 
I was swept away in all of it - the dark mood, the challenge, the commanding presence of this man who’d invaded my shower, my private places, seizing what he wanted and demanding that I cave in.
 
One simple word.
 
That’s all it would take.

“No,” I said.

But we both knew I didn’t mean it.

His cock went in slowly, slowly.
 
I thought he was going to stop, a vague memory of our last encounter telling me that was how he did his thing … but he didn’t stop.
 
He kept going, filling me until there was nothing left.

I ground into him awkwardly, trying to get as close to him as I could.
 
The shower was too small and there was nothing to hang onto.
 
I grabbed for the curtain when he pulled out and came back inside, and managed to yank the whole thing down on top of our shoulders.

He shoved the plastic off to the side and kept going, not letting the water or the mayhem even cause a stutter in his rhythm.
 
And the whole time he was plunging into me, he never looked away; he stared into my eyes like he was driving home a point.
 
And I felt that point he was making with every thrust. He was taking possession of me, laughing in the face of whatever plan I’d made before coming here.
 
He was calling the shots, not me.

He picked up the speed of his rhythm, our wet bodies making slapping sounds when they came together.
 
I didn’t care.
 
The act was even more erotic knowing we were making a mess and being loud about it.

As I felt the heat building between my legs and coming out from my core, I suddenly felt the need to protest.
 
No one had ever made me feel this way and it was wrong.
 
It had to be wrong.
 
It made my other experiences with other men seem boring and faked.
 
He was going to ruin everything.

“We need to stop.
 
We shouldn’t…”

With every thrust, he gave me his response.
 
“You. Are. My.
Wife.”
The last word came out as a growl.

I clung to him, no longer caring whether it was right or wrong.
 
All I wanted was for the feeling to keep on going forever.
 
I’d worry about the consequences later.

He stopped suddenly when he was fully buried inside me and leaned over.
 
Shutting off the water, he bit my neck at the same time.

“Ow!” I squeaked.
 
“What are you doing?”

“Get out of the shower,” he said, pulling out of me in one smooth, quick stroke.

I immediately felt empty and abandoned.
 
“What?”
 
My brain was going in about five different directions, completely confused as to what he was doing.

He got out of the shower, his hard-on completely engorged.
 
“Out.
 
Put your hands on the counter and bend over.”

My eyes bugged out a little, but I didn’t argue; I was beyond any of that foolishness.
 
I stepped out, gingerly avoiding the curtain, and did what he said.
 
I turned my back to him, the cool air making me shiver.
 
My nipples turned rock hard as he stepped up behind me and I bent at the waist.

“What are you doing?” I whispered, looking down at the sink.
 
It was a silly question.
 
We both knew what he was doing.
 
I was playing the innocent victim and he the marauding conquerer.
 
It worked to assuage the guilt.

“Shhhhh.
 
Just stand there, and when you’re ready to say please, we’ll finish.
 
Until then, be quiet while I touch you.”
 
His big hands came around and slid across the sides of my breasts, taking them fully into his palms and squeezing them once he reached the front.
 
My nipples were in between his fingers, and he pinched them together while squeezing my breasts over and over.
 
A low moan escaped my throat and I closed my eyes, lost in the sensations that zipped out of my chest to other places on my body, making me wetter than ever.
 
My insides throbbed with the need to feel him in there, stroking, sliding.

His erection was between my cheeks.
 
I pushed into him, hoping he’d finish what he started.
 
One hand came away from my breast to angle his cock down.
 
It was between my legs now, and as he leaned over to pinch my nipples again, it slid in between my thighs toward the counter.
 
It was close enough to tease but not close enough to give me any satisfaction whatsoever.
 
It was maddening.

“You’re torturing me,” I said, leaning my head back against him as he dropped his lips to my neck and sucked.
 
He bit and then he kissed.
 
He licked and sucked again as he squeezed my breasts.
 
I put my hands on the wall on either side of the mirror, giving him better access.

“The torture can stop anytime you want it to.
 
Just say please.”

I shook my head languidly, refusing once again.
 
“Never.”
 
I sounded and felt drunk.

He dropped a hand and then the head of his cock was angling up to massage my entrance.
 
“Never say never, babe.
 
Never do that.”

“Never,” I whispered, stuck in some wonderland where he was almost filling me again. I already know what it was going to feel like and I couldn’t wait to experience it again.

He pushed down on my upper back between my shoulder blades, forcing me to bend over farther.
 
I went down gladly, opening my legs wider and offering my ass up for the taking.
 
He came to me then, rubbing the tip around my folds, getting it wet and slippery.

“You feel so good,” he said.
 
“And your ass.
 
My god, I love your ass.”
 
He squeezed one of my cheeks and slapped it.
 
The sting felt way better than it should have.

“It’s too big,” I said, dropping my head, pushing back a little, silently begging him to come inside.
 
This waiting was killing me.

“Let’s see about that.”
 
He grabbed me by my hips and pushed himself inside my slippery entrance, pulling me back against him to sheath himself completely with my heat.
 
“Oh, god, yeah.”
 
He squeezed my hips.
 
“That ass.
 
Mmm!”
 
He smacked my cheek once more before grabbing my hips again and forcing me forward and back.
 
His arms flexed and extended, moving my lower body to slide back and forth over his full length.
 
“Oh, no, babe.”
 
He pumped his arms faster, pushing his hips forward and back with the rhythm.
 
“This ass is perrrrfect exactly how it is.”

His balls were hitting my clit, making me whimper with unfulfilled need.
 
I pulled my hand away to touch myself and he stopped moving.
 
Grabbing me by the wrist he hissed, “No. You keep your hands where I can see them.”
 
He forced my hand to the edge of the sink and pushed it down, not letting go until I wrapped my fingers around the edge of the counter.

He went back to pumping himself into me, squeezing my hips in his iron grip and forcing me to stay right where he wanted me.
 
I was at his mercy, halfway to pleased and most of the way to frustrated, all the while loving the way he was taking command and making me do things I was pretending I didn’t want to do.

“Touch me,” I demanded.

He slammed into me harder, our bodies slapping louder with the impact.
 
“Beg me,” he challenged.

“No,” I said, but with a lot less strength of conviction this time.
 
The heat was building and his shaft was getting bigger, thicker.
 
He was close.
 
We were both close.
 
But he was going to get there first.

“Do it,” he growled.
 
“I can’t hold on much longer.”
 
He was breathing hard.
 
“Jesus, your ass is fucking amazing.
 
God
dammit!”

My nub was pulsing with need, swollen to the max and begging for his touch.
 
My mind swirled with the implications.
 
We were screwing like animals in his parents’ bathroom, and I was supposed to be already gone back to Florida. But his body felt like it was made for me and we fit together like it was meant to be.
 
This was what I wanted.
 
Nothing else in the world mattered right now but finding release with this man inside me.

I was breathless, barely able to get the words out.
 
“Please, Mack, please.
 
Okay?
 
Please.”
 
My surrender was made complete with that one simple word.
 
“
Please
,”
 
I said again, nearly whimpering with need.

He pulled out with a yank and spun me around roughly.

“What?” I cried, thinking I’d been had.

I didn’t have time to figure out what he was going to do before he’d lifted me up and sat me on the sink, spread my legs, and put his cock back into me.

Now we were face to face, eye to eye, and nose to nose.
 
His blue eyes bore into mine, the passion and emotion impossible to miss.

“You’re my wife,” he said, only inches away, his hot breath flickering over my lips.
 
“You married me in Las Vegas two years ago.”

“Yes.”

“And I’m your husband.”

I nodded, tears slipping out.

He gritted his teeth and growled out, “And this is
us
, consummating our marriage.”
 
He buried himself inside me and pulled me close by my lower back, making sure I was pressed nice and tight up against the base of his cock.
 
He moved in and out, banging into me and filling me, sending me over the edge in four sharp strokes.

“Oh, Mack!” I screamed, holding onto him by the shoulders.

“Ahhrrrrrr!
 
Fuck!” he roared, hunched over and bucking against me, his hair tickling my nose as he bit into my shoulder.

I dug my nails into his back as I rode wave after wave of orgasm.
 
Just when I thought it would be over, he’d push inside me again and send me into another spasm of pleasure. I was lost and didn’t want to come back. I was dizzy and confused, wandering around a kaleidoscope of colors in my mind, not even sure where I was or who I was anymore.

He wrapped his arms around me held me in his strong arms.
 
He shuddered several times, breathing heavily in my ear, sounding like an angry bull or a freight train.
 
I let the emotion take me away, hearing only the sounds of his breathing and nothing else.
 
It was comforting.
 
Dangerously alluring.

What seemed like a long time later, when he’d finally stopped moving and my body had stopped betraying me, my cries of passion faded into whimpers and then dissolved into tears.

He took a deep breath and lifted his teeth from my skin, resting his forehead in my neck as he sighed heavily.
 
“I love you,” he said simply, his breath tickling my ear.

My heart spasmed painfully in my chest.
 
“Please don’t say that,” I whispered, tears threatening.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice rough with emotion, “I get it.”
 
He pulled his softening length out of me and turned around, his hand already on the door.

“Where are you going?” I asked, my voice revealing sorrow and confusion.
 
I sagged back against the mirror.

“Away.
 
I’ll talk to you tomorrow at nine.”

And then he was gone.
 
The door shut behind him, leaving me alone in the passion-torn bathroom.
 
For a long time I just sat there, finally realizing what a broken heart really feels like.
 
I’d thought before that I’d known.
 
When Luke broke up with me by text message, when other people had let me down as a child, it had hurt.
 
A lot. But I’d been wrong about those painful moments.
 
They had bruised my heart, yes.
 
But this right here?
 
This was real pain.
 
This was true heartache.

I knew without a doubt that I was watching the only man who could ever make me feel this way walk out the door to go sign our divorce papers, and it was true sorrow like no other.
 
I would look back on this trip to Baker City, Oregon and know that Gavin MacKenzie was the man who cracked my heart into a thousand pieces.
 
And I was just going to let him do it.
 
I had no other choice.

I got down off the sink and moved slowly over to the shower to put the curtain back up, my heart going numb with pain.
 
I rinsed off, jumping when my fingers touched the now overly-sensitive parts between my legs.
 
Everything was thick and swollen down there still, and I realized for the first time as I tried to wash everything away that we’d had sex without protection.