Page 70 of Xander
Love.
Affection.
What the fuck had I done?
Touching something this amazing with my blood-stained hands?
My mind was taken from that trail of thought when I heard her moan my name, “Xander. More.”
I winked, “Yes, ma’am.”
Then I gave her more.
Over and over.
My long, thick cock driving into her over and over again.
And I didn’t cum until the walls of her pussy clenched around me so hard that I almost saw the stars that she loves.
I stilled inside of her.
I poured everything I had to give into her body.
Her eyes were closed then, and her chest was rising softly.
I chuckled as she moaned happily after I pulled my dick out of her tight heat.
Then I went to the bathroom and cleaned up.
I thought about saying fuck it and not going back to the clubhouse, and instead, climbing into her bed and holding her close to me.
But then... those ugly fucking thoughts entered my head.
Trash.
Disgrace.
Unwanted.
Tainted.
Stained.
Every degrading word you could use to describe someone who was lower than you were filtered through my brain.
Once I was dressed, I took one more look at the beauty I was lucky enough to touch but wasn’t lucky enough to keep... because sooner or later, like everything in my life, good things didn’t happen to me.
And then I walked out of her apartment, using the key she had given me a few weeks ago and locking all the locks.
***
With those thoughts still on my mind, I kept my distance from her for the next week or so.
Or at least, I tried to.
She wasn’t having it.
And when she doubled down by planting her hands on her hips one night in the clubhouse after we had all eaten dinner and said, “Am I diseased?”
