Page 8 of Rock On

I went at her harder than I’d ever gone at anyone, slamming into her with enough force to make her bounce up off my dick and land back on it again. It was beautiful torment, knowing I was hurting her as much as I was pleasuring her. Knowing she wanted this but also that she wanted me to stop. Knowing I still had the power to take what I wanted from her, that she was unable to refuse me.

“That’s right, you take it until I’m done,” I panted, not letting up even as she cried out.

“Tommy!”

“Too much?” I goaded her, three years of frustration bubbling to the surface in a cauldron of love, hate, and unrequited love. “Too bad.” I kept going, pounding away inside of her like her pussy belonged to me.

Because it did.

I hadn’t been the first, and I wouldn’t be the last, but I’d be the one she’d never forget.

I’d make sure of it, no matter how intense it had to be.

“Tommy, please…let me come! Tommy!” She moaned my name, digging her fingers into my hair and dragging my mouth to hers.

I kissed her because I couldn’t help it, claiming her mouth the way I claimed her pussy, with wild abandon and a reckless lack of control.

Her pussy clamped around my cock, pulling me even deeper.

Not for the first time, I remembered the early days, when we’d thought harder and deeper would somehow increase our chances of making a baby. Until the devastating news that a teenage case of the mumps had essentially left me sterile. There had never been any chance of a baby.

Not with me anyway.

So she’d gone and gotten that from my best friend.

One mistake had sent her right to his waiting arms, and I had no one to blame but myself. I’d known Carter wanted her even more than he wanted me. I’d known what would happen if I let her see what her future might look like without me.

And I’d done it anyway.

Shame and fury drove me to punch into her repeatedly, our bodies slapping loudly in the otherwise quiet cemetery.

And somewhere, somehow, Carter was watching.

Watching me take the woman he loved.

Just like he’d watched when he was alive.

He’d gotten off watching her rock against me, her body covered in sweat as she let me rut into her like a dog in heat.

I couldn’t stop.

I’d never been able to.

When she convulsed and screamed my name, I knew she was going over the edge, so I followed her there. Our bodies slammed together a dozen more times until she’d milked every drop from me, and then I did it a few more times just to prove that I could.

Abruptly, I pulled out, setting her roughly on her feet and stepping away as her knees buckled.

Ah, shit.

I couldn’t let her fall.

I grabbed her before she hit the ground, holding her against my chest.

She instantly nestled against me, a deep sigh leaving her, and my heart constricted painfully.

Why did I always give in?

Why couldn’t I just walk away?

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