Page 47 of The Retreat

My breath catches, and my voice catches, and I’m close, but I don’t want to stop. I don’t want to leave this moment. The power I feel coursing through my veins is a high I’ve never experienced before. A lust I’ve never realized.

His fingertips dig into my thighs as his eyes bulge. I know he needs to breathe, but I’m not gonna let him. Not until I’ve had my fill.

“You’ve offered it so many times. Take it till I’m done with you. This is what you get for pushing my fucking buttons.” My dick swells in his throat, thickening, filling every inch of available space. Choking off his air.

Tears stream out of the corners of his eyes, but his lips pull in a taunting smile. Nails bite into my skin, and his chest heaves, but he doesn’t even try to pull back, not that he could. My fingers so firmly tightened in his hair, and the way it falls over his face.

A slight gagging sound constricts his throat, and I groan. I’m gonna hate myself later for loving every second of this, but right now, I’m reveling in it. Reveling in making him choke on his words, reveling in making him choke on his offer, and reveling in this submission. He’s right, he almost does look like a woman, but his stubble burns into my groin, his chin against my balls makes me know on a deeper level that he’s a man, and I don’t want to stop.

I want to fuck his throat until he passes out.

I immediately push the thought down, a wave of self-loathing bubbling up, but I refuse to focus on it, not while I have him like this, not leaving him so close to getting off. His full lips pull around my girth while he swirls his tongue over my vein, and I’m about to come undone. He pulls me over the edge, pulling me apart until I’m totally unraveled.

As if he has some extra reserve, he opens more, welcoming me deeper, taking every fucking inch. I grind against his face, and as he swallows around me. I’m trembling, an entire mess, feeling his mouth and his throat. Tears lubricate his lips, and I keep fucking him until I’m fully spent.

Finally, I pull back, my cock still half-hard.

He’s wobbling, gulping air as he sits back on his heels, and just when I expect him to say something, like he hates me, that was unforgivable, or I’m disgusting, he lifts his chin, and he says, “Can’t be that different from a woman, since my stomach’s full of your cum.”

I can’t face what I’ve done.

I turn and leave.

Fuck practice.

Fuck fencing.

Fuck marriage.

Fuck all of this.

I’m in the car in another five minutes.

I tell the driver I don’t care where we go. I just need to get out of here.

SEVENTEEN

Colin

I’ve been pacing the apartment for—I look at the clock on the stove—two hours and thirty-six minutes. Owen won’t answer my calls or texts, Oliver basically told me to fuck off, and Isaac is also not telling me anything.

I call Owen’s phone again, but it goes straight to voicemail. I want to scream.

My phone buzzes in my hand. Immediately my heart is in my throat as I look at it, but it’s Cassie. I ignore it and send her a quick text. I can’t talk to her right now.

Big Brother Is Always Watching: I can’t talk right now. Are you okay?

PITA: Yeah, just annoyed at Mother

Big Brother Is Always Watching: lunch tomorrow?

PITA: Sounds good

Knots twist and tighten in my stomach while my skin feels like it’s vibrating.

Does he hate me? Did I push him too far? Will he punish me somehow? Retaliate? Is this a way of telling me he’s done with me and this marriage?

The fear of not being enough, of being too much, eats at me. I know I push people, but I don’t always know when to stop. I’m too much. Too loud, too opinionated, too crass, too over-the-top.

---