Page 101 of Devious Temptation
I’m always wet for him, but this time it’s as if my pussy is angry with him, too, gripping his cock to keep him lodged inside me. There’s so much friction, and I feel so full as he punishes me, reminding me of who I belong to.
“You ignored me for an entire week. I was feeling petty.” He slaps my clit in response, latching onto my neck to suck at the spot beneath my ear.
My orgasm is a flood of molten heat spilling between mylegs and around his cock. He lets out a hoarse groan as my walls milk him, and I can feel his length twitch as he comes, filling me with more liquid warmth.
We stay like that for a long while, his body hunched over me as I grasp the wall for balance. When he pulls out, I turn to see him tucking himself back in his pants, so I right my dress, too.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
Concern floods his darkened irises as he reaches up to smooth his thumb across a sore patch on my forehead. His apology doesn’t seem like it’s just for the rough sex but for so much more, and I feel the telltale sign of tears pricking my eyes.
“I know.”
I want to reach for him. I want him to pull me into his arms and kiss away the pain. I want to tell him I would never betray him and make sure he knows how sorry I am that I even agreed to go to dinner with Cameron. I want Lawson to tell me he’s sorry for not calling all week.
But neither of us speaks… we only stare at each other as our heavy breathing calms.
“It’s so unfair.” Unashamed, I let my tears fall. “Everything. I’ve been thinking about it all week. I know he’s your son, and he should always come first, but I don’t want to be second,” I sob.
Tears shine in Lawson’s eyes as he surges forward to cup my neck and press a kiss against my forehead. “I’m so sorry, Lucy.”
It sounds more like a goodbye than an apology, and I break.
Another sob tears from my throat, my tears blurring myvision as he lets me go. Selfishly, I wait for him to say it will always be me. For him to tell me how sorry he is that he hasn’t communicated all week.
To say we’re going to weather this storm together.
But Lawson looks as though he’s at a loss for words, scrubbing the back of his neck while turmoil and despair battle across his handsome features. “I should get going.”
My heart breaks, and an iron wall slams down around the organ to protect it from shattering further. With a more even voice than I thought myself capable, I say, “Yeah. I guess so.”
Suddenly, my back hits the wall, and his lips crash down on mine. It's a kiss full of passion and desperate longing, but it's bittersweet. We're right back where we started. His words and his actions are a contradiction to everything we've been through, splitting open a chasm between us. He's always pushed me away. I don't know why I expected this time to be any different. My tears fall between our lips, the salt seasoning the saddest farewell I've ever tasted.
Then he’s gone.
And I fall apart, sliding against the wall as my broken cries fill the air.
Because even though I know it’s such an unfair choice, part of me really thought he’d choose me.
Thirty-Four
I fucking hate Florida.
If there’s anything I hate more than the predicament I’m in right now, it’s Florida.
The heat. The sticky humidity. The entitled women sitting at home nursing their daiquiris and having affairs with their pool boys while their husbands fuck their secretaries at work—and yes, I understand the irony of that statement.
I also know the latter can be found anywhere, but it seems to be extra prevalent in the little suburban Boca neighborhood, which is probably why Charlotte feels more at home here than she ever did in Chicago.
Neighbors I’ve never met watch my car creep by slowly while they water their lawns—wondering who the new guy on the block is.
Not new. I just hate it here.
As I park in the driveway, I take in the pristine appearance of the house. The bright cream stucco and red-shingled roof look like they’ve been recently pressure-washed, and the hedges that line the yard are freshly trimmed.
There’s a fluttering of the ivory lace curtains at the front window, and I catch a glimpse of Charlotte’s blonde hair as she pulls away. She greets me at the door with a wary grimace, her eyes darting to the manila envelope under my arm.
“Lawson, this is a surprise. What are you doing here?” None of her usual sarcasm fills her voice. Instead, she almost sounds scared, like she knowsexactlywhat I’m doing here and is afraid of what’s about to happen.
