Page 11 of Give Me a Chance
There’s a warning bell somewhere in the back of my head. Like this was important information demanding attention, but all the blood rushed to my clit, leaving the brain highly understaffed.
The feel of his thick cock entering me instantly silences the warnings. We moan in unison, and he pauses for a split second before he pumps into me at an unforgiving pace.
Last time, it was quick and dirty, so I waste no time. My hands travel his shoulders and bulging biceps, leaving nailmarks in their wake. His abs are hard and dripping with sweat while he fills me so completely. Using one hand to hold himself up, the other one lands beneath my jaw, remembering what I like, but not putting any pressure on it. His eyes are on me, but I don’t dare to look back, afraid of liking what I’ll see in them. I feel the heat and the smoothness of his bare cock inside of me, pushing me to the edge. But I can’t cross it without clit stimulation, never could.
Before I can lower my hand to help myself, his fingers pinch my clit and light bursts in front of my eyes. I shiver as an orgasm crashes into me, hearing a pained groan before he pulls out his cock and unloads his cum on my tits and belly.
We’re both breathing heavily, our bodies covered in sweat, and, in my case, cum.
“I didn’t want to risk anything,” he explains, once again showing his gentleman-like side.
A sense of dread floods over me as he gets up to grab some tissues from the bar. He cleans me meticulously, but I’m not there. I’m deep in my head, spewing insults at myself.
How could I be so stupid?
We didn’t use a fucking condom. I never do shit like that. I’m always careful. Physically and emotionally. And today, I had unprotected sex with a man who wants so much more than I can give. A man I am forced to be around for the rest of my life.
I wish I could blame alcohol, but I must be honest with myself. The only thing I’m drunk on are the four days in paradise with this perfect specimen of a man. Four days of foreplay, watching him strut around in his swim trunks, displaying all eight of his abs.
He’s done cleaning me, but the look in his eyes is apprehensive. As if I’m a frightened animal and he’s afraid I’m going to escape. And he’s right.
I will.
“Look, I really think we should stop doing this.” His shoulders drop. “Don’t you agree?” I continue.
“No, to be honest, I don’t. I would rather take you on a date and see where this is going. Our chemistry is off the charts, and I couldn’t even look twice at another woman ever since the last time we’ve been together.”
“You know I don’t do dating.” My voice is quiet.
“Yeah, I know.” He sighs, getting up.
“Let me know if you change your mind. Good night, Natalie.” The way he says my name sends another wave of shivers down my body. Or it might be the cool night air.
It’s better this way. We need a clean cut.
Lying on the lush bed in my cabin, I expect to feel relief. Instead, in its place, regret forms.
8
MATT
Rina and Connor’s wedding takes place on the top deck of the yacht, now fully transformed into a wedding venue. The white tulle decorations, along with an abundance of wildflowers, almost make me forget it’s the same place Natalie lied covered in my cum. I never took myself for a guy wanting to mark his partners, but that was a sight I won’t forget.
Rina is the most beautiful bride in a simple, form fitting dress and my best friend doesn’t look too bad, either, in a three-piece navy suit.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride,” the officiant says, and they kiss beneath the arch made from wildflowers. We all cheer as the sun sets on the horizon, casting a golden hue across the peaceful waters.
The bride and groom are both teary-eyed, and I feel water pooling in the corners of my own. Eric jumps into their arms—they are a picture-perfect family.
Rina’s parents arrived yesterday, and the commotion made it easier to blend in and pretend nothing happened. But today,standing directly across from the bridal party, it’s hard to keep my eyes fromher.
She looks ethereal in a pale pink, floor-length dress. The V-neck showcases the tops of her breasts, and the side slit gives a peek of her tanned leg. Looking at her can only lead to an inappropriate erection, so it’s best I keep my gaze on the newlyweds.
The dining table is big enough for the eleven of us to sit together, so I take my place next to Connor. The menu is Mediterranean, and each course is like it’s out of a Michelin star restaurant. Knowing Connor, there’s a real possibility a Michelin star chef is working below in the yacht’s kitchen.
Ambiental music plays while we eat, and when we finish, the DJ hypes us up to the dance floor. I dance with Connor’s mom, who beams with happiness for her son and daughter-in-law.
“They are a beautiful couple,” I tell her, and her eyes fill up for the hundredth time today.
