Page 33 of Buried Dreams

I quickly close my eyes, not wanting to watch him watch me. The feeling is too intimate. “The eyes are the key to the soul,” he used to tell me. Even if I can’t say no to this, he doesn’t get to look into my soul. He can have my body, but that is all I will give him. “Fuck,” he hisses, “open your fucking eyes.”

“No,” I deny, and I feel him bending down to suck my nipple into his mouth as he slams into me over and over. I can feel his anger toward me, his hatred radiating from his body. I love watching him fuck me and he fucking knows it so the last thing I want is to give him what he wants. If I open them and see him like this I might just forget that I hate him.

I squeeze his cock with my pussy, wanting him to know I hate him as much as he hates me. “what’s the matter don’t want to watch me fuck you.” I put my other foot on the counter, hoping he can get deeper in me. “Baby,” he says my nickname, and it’s all I need for me to come all over his cock. One fucking word that makes me forget everything but the goodness he could always give me.

Chapter Eighteen

BROCK

“What’s the matter don’t want to watch me fuck you,” I hiss at her as I pull my cock out of her to the tip and then slide it back home. Fucking heaven, every single time. She puts her other foot on the counter as I try to get deeper into her. “Baby.” The nickname slips out of me softly. My guard’s coming down when I look at her. When I feel her clench around my cock, when I kiss her. It’s my own personal hell. Her body arches as she comes on my cock, and I bend down to bite her where my mark always is. Where I always left my mark. Where I would touch her, knowing my mark was under my fingertip. I suck in deep as her pussy clenches over and over around my cock. It’s so tight I have trouble pulling halfway out before slamming back into her. “Open your fucking eyes,” I demand of her, my teeth clenched together, “and fucking”—I slam back into her—“watch”—I pull out, slamming back into her—“me”—watching her face—“fuck you.”

She takes a deep inhale, and the only sound I can hear is the sound of our skin slapping against each other. All of the anger I’ve felt just makes me fuck her harder and harder. “Fuck,” I finally hiss out when I feel my balls getting tight, and I know I’m going to come, but I want her to come again. I need her to come again, and this time, she’s going to open her fucking eyes and see who is making her come. I pick up my hand, pinching her nipple, and she hisses at the same time she arches her back.

“Open your fucking eyes.” I lean down to bite the same nipple, and she hisses this time before her hand slides into the back of my hair, and she pulls it. I suck her nipple into my mouth until she stops pulling my hair. The whole time, I feel her pussy getting tighter and tighter. I move my head up, putting my forehead on hers, and I see her eyes flutter open. She looks into my eyes for a second. For one split second, I have my Everleigh back. For one split second, I feel whole. Until she looks to the side and she closes her eyes, but it’s too late. We are both jumping off that ledge. She gasps out her moan, and I swallow it with my mouth. My tongue slides into her mouth gently as I plant myself as far as I can get into her, and I let go.

Her hand slowly slips from the back of my head to my neck and then to my shoulder. Our lips separate as our chests rise and fall. Her feet fall from my workstation to the side of her, hanging down. It’s like we both remember we hate each other, and we want to get away from each other as fast as we can. But the minute I slip out of her, I want to pull her to me. I want to bury my face in her neck and smell her as she hugs me. But I just step away from her as she closes her legs. “That’s the second time we’ve done that,” she chides. “It better be just me you’re fucking.”

I bend to grab my T-shirt. “You lost the privilege to tell me where to put my dick the minute you left me.” I see the hurt in her face as I walk away from her and head to my office and the bathroom. Closing the door behind me, I put my head back on it and close my eyes, taking a deep breath.

I look to the side, not the side with the mirror on the wall. I’m not sure I can look myself in the eyes right now. The hurt in her eyes flashes back, making me hate the words I said to her. I walk over to the sink, turning the water on, holding on to the sink, and hanging my head. I cup water in my hands and wash my face before cleaning up and tossing the towel to the side.

I zip up my zipper and button my pants before turning and walking out of the bathroom. I make my way back to the garage, and I don’t know why I’m expecting to still see her there. There is no way I would stick around; I don’t know why I was hoping she would. I walk over to the workstation and see her handprint there. The scent of her perfume still lingers, making my cock hard. I close my eyes, tucking my stool under the bench I fucked her on without a care in the world. The front fucking door wasn’t even locked. Ryan had just left, and he could have returned and seen me plowing into her. I let that thought burn in my stomach for a bit before I remind myself it’s not my job to take care of her.

I lock up and head to the bar before going home. Something I don’t do often, but occasionally. Walking in, I see it’s almost packed, so I make my way over to the bar. Usually, it’s Brady, but ever since he’s hooked up with Harmony and her son, he’s off on the weekends. He’s a family man, and I’m happy for him. I slip out a stool and sit down as the new bartender approaches. “Can I have the house blend, one shot?” I tell him, and he nods at me as he moves to prepare my order. I tap the bar, looking around, spotting a couple of people I know. But usually Sundays are spent with families. He places the drink in front of me, and I take the shot before getting up and leaving a twenty on the bar.

I walk back to my truck and head home. The black clouds look like they are rolling in fast, and it feels like a downpour is about to come. My mind wanders to Everleigh, even if I know it shouldn’t. This whole fucking week I’ve thought about her every fucking night. Waking up thinking about her, going to bed after having to jerk off because I couldn’t get her image out of my head. Today, she walked into the garage, looking for a fight, and it felt like we were right back where we were all those years ago. The fight would always be intense, but then the make-up sex would be even more intense. I swear, we fought just to fuck some days.

Pulling up to my house, I get out, and a gust of wind makes the leaves in the trees rustle along with the wind chimes I put up for Saige a couple of years ago. She loves the sound of them, always has. At first, I didn’t want to put them up because they would make me think of Everleigh. She hung one right outside our window in the apartment we shared. Growing up, she had one outside of her bedroom and said it made her feel at home listening to the sound.

I’m about to go over to the tree and rip them down and see if Saige will notice when a car pulls up on the street. I look over and see a Mercedes stop right in front of my house. The car door opens and I turn around to see my old boss get out of the car. He looks around, taking off his sunglasses before he turns and faces me. I take a moment to look around also, to see if anyone is outside to watch this if anything happens. Like I throat punch him for fucking me over.

He smiles when he sees me here on the steps. “Brock,” he says, walking up the path to the front door, “I was hoping you would be home.”

“You got car trouble?” I ask, and he looks at me confused.

His eyebrows pinch together. “No.”

“Then why the fuck are you here?” I ask, folding my arms over my chest.

“I was in the neighborhood and thought I would stop by and see an old friend,” he says, and I take a step down to make sure he can see my eyes.

“A friend, is that what you call yourself?” I ask. “You stole my fucking designs and called them your own. The only problem with that was you didn’t copy them right and now the whole fucking place looks like it’s sinking.” I shake my head. “What the fuck do you want from me?”

“I’m sorry about that,” he says and runs his hand through his thinning black hair. “I didn’t want to do it. They made me do it.” I nod.

“Yeah, they made you steal my designs?” I ask, not surprised in the least, but I was hoping he would have stolen them to get ahead. You see, he was my boss when I was working for the Cartwrights, and when they handed him the development to create, they also put me on there. I spent hours upon hours drawing and recreating the perfect housing plans. The perfect development would make the Cartwrights a lot more money than they had.

However, they didn’t consider that I set it at eight stories and not twelve because the soil wouldn’t hold up the weight. This idiot just added floors to make it look different as if I wouldn’t know it was my design.

“Well, good for you, then”—I laugh—“and good luck with fixing it.”

“You need to help me, all right?” he pleads, his voice in a panic. “They are threatening to?—”

“Get,” I say, with my teeth clenched, “the. Fuck. Off. My. Property.” I grab him by the collar of his shirt. “And don’t fucking come back. You can also deliver that message to the Cartwrights. I want nothing to do with them.” I push off him before I jog up my steps and get into my house.

Shaking my head, I slam the door and head over to the fridge, grabbing a beer out of it as the thunder rolls in. I look out the window to see the Mercedes gone from in front of my house. The sky lights up at the same time the booming rolls in, sounding like two boulders hitting each other. My phone rings, and I look down and see it’s Saige.

“Hey, baby girl,” I greet her and hear rustling from her side.

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