Page 56 of Unhinged

“You would’ve fucked my mouth with your thick cock along my tongue. With your hand in my hair, you would’ve jerked me back and forth, so my tongue slid over the tip as you lost your breath. You want to feel it so damn much now, don’t you?” He doesn’t answer this time. His gaze shifts to the wall, and I glance at his crotch. In the white glow of the exit sign, I watch his hand cupping his imprisoned hard-on through his jeans.

I smile but not to mock him since I’m treading on thin ice. “While on my knees, I would’ve brought you to desperate oblivion before you threw your orgasm down my throat or onto my tits.”

Greg swallows noisily between us, and his arm moves. I then hear the button pop and the whir of his zipper. Damn, I didn’t think I’d get this far. Maybe if I can’t get a regular job, I can do nights as a phone sex operator.

But it’s also backfiring on me because I soaked my underwear. Shifting, I see his hand sliding back and forth over his bare cock, and it freezes me for a few seconds. My pussy aches, still mourning Greg Rodwell’s dick, and now it’s next to me again. Without thinking it through much, but needing to prove a point and get out of here before I come in front of him, my hand goes to my open shirt, and I pull it down, exposing my cleavage and bra. I breathlessly tease, “Are these what you thought of in your room?”

With the music, I hear him groan as he stares at my chest, and I watch him jerking. Oh, God. I won’t make it to the bathroom—desperate times—to relieve my tension.

But I won’t be easy. No. I can’t trust Greg not to hurt me since he has nothing to lose. He’s made that clear. Greg can’t just guilt me into sex. I won’t be that girl.

Steeling Wilder nerve I wasn’t born with, I straighten and drop my hand, though my cheap shirt droops, leaving my boobs on display. I say, “And that’s the art of seduction, Rod.”

Greg stops stroking, his face a mix of confusion, embarrassment, rage, and lust. It’s a unique combination that’s powerful and hard to look away from as it feeds my throbbing pussy. However, when I smirk before leaving to jill off in the bathroom. Greg grabs my shoulder, hooks my shirt, which catches me off guard, and I slouch. The next thing I see is his hand jerking his hard cock with stuttered panting as he spurts a flood of hot cum over my tits.

His deep groans punctuate each spasm as I squeal, jumping away from him, shocked and on the verge of my own orgasm.

“And that’s how you fulfill a wet dream, Garrison,” Greg sneers with a glare, but his gaze falls to my chest as he catches his breath, still holding his dribbling cock.

I turn and finally escape to the bathroom. Forgetting about the stupid door, I’m only glad to see it open and the bathroom empty. I slam it and throw my back against it as I hurriedly undo my fly. His heavy cream rolls down my chest and stomach. As soon as I have my jeans and underwear around my thighs, I scoop big fingerfuls and lube it over my clit, using Greg’s cum to make me come. I gasp, “Shit!” feeling it glide between my fingers. Looking down, I watch as I shove three of my fingers into my pussy, filling it with him, now slippery with his orgasm to conjure mine. Needing more, I remove my fingers to scoop cum from my right tit and push it into me. I moan as my greedy tunnel throbs in Greg’s creamy warmth. Though his is the first cum to ever enter my pussy, I can’t sleep with someone who hates me. I won’t do it.

Since I stopped waxing, his cream spreads through my blonde pubic hair. With my moans and picturing him climaxing into me, it doesn’t take over fifteen seconds before an intense orgasm squeezes my fingers, sucking his deeper. I yell as I slide against the door, feeling chipped paint peeling off against my T-shirt. My voice echoes, but the music drowns it out. I watch his cum clinging to my fingers as my wet orgasm coats my fingers too. I whisper, “Fuck me, Greg.”

Catching my breath, I notice hot tears on my cheeks, and I slowly stand and wipe my eyes with the back of my hands before pulling up my jeans and underwear to wash my hands. I then take a wad of paper towels and wipe off most of Greg Rodwell from my chest, so my boobs don’t stick together, though I left little behind since most of it is inside me. I skip the toilet for now because… It’s the only time I’ll experience the real Greg Rodwell at his core.

Going for the door, it’s a minor battle to open it, but it doesn’t fight me like last time. When I walk out into the hall, I’m again face-to-face with Greg.

Unable to look him in the eye, I attempt to go around him, but Greg hooks my arm and again pushes me against the hallway cinderblock wall. His eyes are ablaze as they fly over my face and then to my open shirt as if he’s checking to see if I’m broadcasting his dirty deeds. He leans in and whispers, “I heard you yelling. Damn, that was fucking hot, Garrison. Did you think of me as you got off in there? Did you imagine your fingers were my dick? Because that could happen.” My eyes widen, and Greg grins coldly. “Now I need to shoot another wad. Care to help again?” My pussy clenches his earlier jizz as if it’s a rare commodity.

I steal his earlier denial. “You heard nothing.” Greg narrows his eyes with a sudden smirk, and I scowl as I push his arm, which he moves this time. “Excuse me. I have hand jobs to do and lives to ruin.”

But before I make it far, Greg grabs my arm again to whisper, “You want trust? I’ll throw you a bone. No. I haven’t fucked a pussy yet.” He holds my gaze, silently adding willingly to that. “Take it or leave it.”

Greg then drops his eyes from mine and walks away with a hand in his dark hair as he exits the kitchen, leaving me shocked, confused, and…hopeful. For what?

Probably not the right thing.

Chapter 10

“Hadley, I’m kind of in love with you. Jesus Christ, I am. I’ve loved you from the beginning. Every single day. Every single night.”

She shakes somewhat as she whispers back, “I…know.”

Before either of us says another word, I kiss her. The kind where nothing else fucking matters.

The kind where her hands go to my chest, scrunching my shirt in her fists as we both moan.

The kind where she falls against the wall as I lean into her more, picking up where I left off that almost-night in her hotel room.

The kind where my hands go to her ass, wrenching her against me before we fall against the wall again.

The kind you shouldn’t do with a married woman.

But this time, I’m not bolting, even as my frustrated body, my broken heart, and my fucked-up mind race. I’m here. I made it into her arms. For a short time, maybe forever now, I’m Hadley’s. And I want to give myself to her the way I’ve never given myself to a woman.

I push my hands up her T-shirt, knowing she’s not wearing a bra since her nipples etch into my chest. But gripping her bare waist, I don’t go further yet with my trembling hands. She moves against me and pushes my chest, but it’s because she wants to talk. I’m past talking. We’ve tried that shit, and she only talks herself out of it. I don’t want her to debate the morals of what we’re doing. To most people, it’s wrong, but to me, it’s righting a wrong.

But Hadley thrashes against me, and I leave her mouth to ask, “Where can we go? We can stay right here.” I slide my left hand closer to her tit, bringing to life so many nights staring at my phone as I jack off, imagining her in my hands or mouth. It’s surreal.

---