Page 33 of Watch Me

Not a single thought clouds my mind. I’m running on pure instinct as I roll on top of her and start kissing her again, this time exquisitely skin-to-skin.

Breaking our kiss to rest my forehead on hers, I try to catch my breath as I use one hand to line the head of my cock up with her pussy, until I’m pushing against her entrance.

“I need you,” I rasp.

“Yes,” she answers.

One word of permission, three tiny letters with huge power. Once she utters it, another boundary falls, and I push into her—the tight, hot squeeze of her knocking the air out of me.

“Holy shit,” I stammer, my words a mess through my stuttering breath. I can barely speak, let alone produce a coherent thought. I press my hips forward as hard as I can, digging my hip bones into the underside of her thighs until I can feel her all the way down to the base of my cock, my balls pressed against her ass, and she yips in surprise.

“I’m sorry,” I say in a rush of breath, backing off. “Did I hurt you?”

“You’re so big.”

A growl rises in my throat. “I wanna rip you to pieces, baby girl, but I’ll take it nice and slow so you get used to me.”

I pull out and sink back into her slowly. I follow the rhythm of her breathing, her movements, watching the color rise on her chest, up her cheeks, and the bouncing motion of her breasts as I ride her back and forth, until the quality of her breath changes to something pleading and desperate.

Then I plunge into her harder and claim her mouth with mine, heat unfurling up my spine as I fuck her—my son’s young girlfriend.

It’s the most vanilla sex I’ve had since I broke up with his mother, and a shadowy thought suggests that maybe that’s the kink, that she’s so fucking forbidden, but I push it aside. Her pussy clenches, so tight I can hardly breathe as I try to move inside of her, and a deep shiver goes through her as she cries out, her cunt pulsing around my shaft.

“Oh fuck,” I nearly weep, still kissing her through her panting breath, knowing I need to pull out, my mind going black as my balls contract. “Oh fuck, I’m going to come.”

“I’m on the pill,” she whispers, and that does it.

Instead of pulling out, I plunge into her and let out a choked sob as a powerful orgasm racks my body. Wave after wave after wave of intense sensation rocks through me as I shoot my load deep inside of her—until the last aftershock subsides, and I collapse, my nose in her neck, my heart hammering, my dick still spasming inside of her.

I pull air into my lungs, trying to still my racing heart as I come down from an unthinkable high.

But the high is laced with guilt.

I just fucked Tate’s girl.

What I’ve done is unforgivable—and it’s easily the best sex I’ve ever had in my life.

* * *

I bark out a laugh as Zoë lifts her fingers to her eyes to signify glasses. She’s speaking in a ridiculously exaggerated French accent, imitating her dance teacher.

“Your but-tocks are loose!” she trills. “Dey are flapping like curtains on ze laundry line!”

“No way,” I shake my head, still laughing. “That’s absurd.”

“It’s true!” She drops her hands and nods, grinning unselfconsciously. “Then she comes and points her long fingernail right in your butt cheek to get you to tighten it up!”

We’re sitting at the dining room table finishing a dinner of risotto that Zoë made in her Instant Pot. It had surprised me to see her pull the bulky, countertop appliance out of the pantry—a moment of wonder where I was reminded that she truly does live here. She has appliances in my kitchen.

Our kitchen.

We spent the day in a suspended state of reality after the sleepy, impulsive way we started it, both tacitly agreeing to put any codes of behavior aside for the day and moving on instinct, each interaction purely in the moment, spontaneous and at ease with each other.

After sex, we showered together, until soaping each other up led to exploring each other’s bodies, and we fucked again against the shower wall, my insatiable need for her giving me a super-human refractory time. She decided to skip her dance class that day, and I canceled plans I had with David. We took iced teas out to the verandah, where I licked her pussy and ass until she came loudly—all the while secretly hoping that the neighbors could see and were watching.

Zoë may have been thinking the same thing, too, because as we talked about our turn-ons afterward, lounging lazily on the couch, I learned that she’s even more of an exhibitionist than I had her pegged for. Not just someone who enjoys stripping for the thrill of being naked, but someone for whom being objectified and seen is a deep-seated kink.

Throughout the day, Tate has lingered uncomfortably at the periphery of my thoughts, although I keep trying to push it away.

---