K. Bromberg - Slow Burn

I feel the hesitancy in his lips, his mind trying to scramble and catch up to how he’s already hard and ready in my hand. Our mouths remain savage on each other’s, teeth scrape, tug, and I suck on his tongue, earning me a strangled groan that lets me know he’s ready for what I’m striving for: complete mental obliteration.

I shift my positioning and slide off the chaise, leaning over not to break the connection. His hands meet mine as we both work at the buttons on my shorts, shoving them with my panties down to the ground so that I can step out of them. Now free of his undressing job, his hand finds its way back between my thighs, parting my folds, testing my readiness, but I dance backward from the V of his thighs before he can find his purchase.

I don’t deserve this consideration from him, don’t deserve anything from him since I’m giving him nothing in return. I turn abruptly around so that I straddle his legs where he sits on the edge of the lounger, my back to his front. I can’t bring myself to watch him as I do this—use him—and he sure as hell doesn’t need to see the tears that threaten to fill my eyes with each passing second.

I reach down between my legs, and Becks sucks in a breath as I grip his erection in my hand and position it at my entrance. I rub the crest back and forth a couple times over my seam to wet it and then, without giving him a moment to ready himself, slam my hips down hard and fast, sheathing him in one slick movement.

His groan fills the night air around us, our bodies shrouded from the view of neighbors by the night sky and overhanging tree branches. I don’t even give him a moment to sink into the sensation before I am on the move. I’m not fully ready for him, so my muscles stretch and skin burns at the friction as my body catches up to my running thoughts and urges.

But that makes me feel . It means I’m not completely numb. As fucked-up as it is, I welcome the pain as a punishment for the lie and for what I ultimately know I’m going to do.

I slide up and down Becks’s cock at a fervent pace, never giving him a moment to think or a chance to resist. I need to control this right now, him right now, because I can’t control anything else, and that fear is eating me alive right alongside the guilt. So I own him, own the moment, all the while hating myself.

I bring him to his orgasm at a rapid speed, the friction and vigor helping him light the fuse for his detonation. He comes with such violence, I can hear it in his cry, feel it in the muscles of his thighs locking tight and how his fingers dig into my hips.

“Holy shit,” he says when he’s finally caught his breath. He wraps his arms around me and presses his forehead against the line of my spine as he comes down from his orgasmic haze. “What in the hell was that?” His tone is one of shocked satisfaction, and I bite my lower lip to hold back the sob that catches in my throat.

“I think you should go now.” The evenness to my tone scares me. I feel his body jolt from my words. His chest, which was heaving against my back, stills, and the evidence from our union starts to seep out of me.

“What?”

I give him credit for remaining calm but almost wish he’d be angry because that’s easier to hold on to, to feed off of.

“You mind telling me what the fuck this is all about?”

I rise from his lap and collect my shorts and panties from the ground where they sit beside my empty lemonade glass. I use my underwear to clean myself up and then toss them to him to use without meeting his eyes. I notice them land on the chaise beside him without him so much as reaching for them.

“Suit yourself,” I mutter as I pull my shorts up, my motions on autopilot once again. “You can see yourself out,” I say as I start walking toward the house.

Within a flash, I’m being spun around to face the wrath of Becks. He tries to talk, but every word gets overlapped by the one before it as confusion wins the war over his emotions. “I’m lost here,” he finally gets out, his expression matching his words. “Do you mind telling me what the fuck is going on here? I’m a patient man, but hell if you’re not testing that right now with whatever game you’re playing.”

Our eyes remain locked, except the darkness around us allows me to keep the secrets hidden so that he can’t see the truths I’m protecting. “No game, Becks.” I shake my head and clear my throat to try to gain some conviction in my tone to reinforce the mistruth. “I think we’re moving way too fast, and I don’t really need this added stress in my life right now.”

“Come again?” His voice rises as he takes a step closer, jaw tensing and head shaking. “Did you not just ride me? That sure as hell isn’t the action of a woman trying to distance herself.”

“Think of it as a parting gift.” I instantly regret the flippant comment when I see him wince in reaction. The escalator to hell is only getting faster right now as I pile lie upon lie, hurt upon hurt.

“A parting gift?” He emits a sliver of a laugh laced with derision. “I’m trying really hard right now to make sense of this, how we went from orgasm to mindfuck, and I’m drawing a blank.” I clench my fists to combat the hurt in his eyes piercing my heart. “Did I do something wrong? Is there something you’re not telling me? Did Dante finally wear you down? What?”

And with that comment, Becks unknowingly opens the gates of Hell for me to walk through. I grab on and run with it, own it as if it were the truth. Anything to push him away right now, give me time to think. It’s so much easier to hurt him this way than it would be with all of the crap that cancer brings with it.

He asked me for a day at the farm. One day just to let him show me how good we could be together. I gave him that day and then some. But now I can’t give him anymore with all of this hanging over my head. God, yes, it has been so good, but he doesn’t deserve to deal with this disease. Hell, I don’t deserve to. It’s just so much easier to cut ties now than to drag him behind me with ropes of obligation binding us together.

“Yes.” My voice breaks with the single word. I clear my throat. “Yes, Dante and I had a heart-to-heart earlier today. We’re going to work things out. You know he’s more my type than you are, so it shouldn’t surprise you that I choose him.”

The expression on Becks’s face reflects a man who’s gone nine rounds in the ring as my words punch him. I can see him try to process what I’ve just said, see him try to acknowledge it, but the acceptance never comes.

Our eyes don’t waver from each other’s as he steps forward and raises both hands to frame my face so that I’m unable to look away. “I don’t know what the hell is going on, Montgomery. I have no fucking clue. You want space? Fine, I’ll give you space, but don’t for one second think I’m buying the fact that you choose that douche bag over me.” He exhales a broken breath as he figures out the rest of what he wants to say. My heart thunders in my ears, and my own breath is just as uneven as his but for the opposite reason. “I’m going to leave right now. I’m going to walk out that door and give you some time to figure out whatever the shit is in your head, but I don’t want it mistaken for a single second that I’m walking away from you.” He squeezes his eyes shut momentarily before opening them back up and the clarity in them has me feeling like he’s seeing into my soul. “I don’t walk away from the people I love without a fight, and damn it to hell, Haddie Montgomery, you’d better prepare for that fight because I’m in love with you.”

My mouth drops open from his unexpected confession, and I can’t even try to wrap my head around it because Becks’s lips are on mine, clearly driven by the emotion of his statement. It’s a short but holy-mother-of-hell kiss that leaves me breathless when he drags his mouth from mine.