Kissing….
She was kissing him.
For Victor, it was the equivalent of her striking a match. And setting him ablaze.
His cold resolve melted in mere seconds under that kiss. And soon, it wasn’t just her kissing him. He was kissing her back.
He slammed her into the door she’d come through just minutes ago, shoving off her puffy coat and clawing at the clothes underneath. She wore a cutesy polka dot dress over a turtleneck, so a pair of tights and panties were the only things that stood between him and what he wanted. What he needed.
Her tights tore away with just one yank of his hand. He took himself out of his jeans, pushed her panties aside, and then…
Victor let out a loud groan against her mouth after burying himself inside of her. But he didn’t stop kissing her as he began pumping into her tight wet heat. Consuming her, punishing her.
Or was it the other way around?
His mind couldn’t focus on anything outside of being with her like this. Of kissing her as he fucked her against the door. Going in so deep, but still not deep enough.
He felt crazy as he fucked her, like he’d come apart if he didn’t claim her and make her his. Her name lodged in his throat, aching to come out. It took everything inside of him not to lose himself like he had when they were teenagers.
As furious as she had been with him, her responsiveness remained the same. She wrapped one leg around his waist, her body becoming more and more pliable as he pounded into her like an animal unleashed.
Soon, an orgasm had her clawing at his shoulders as her cunt tightened around his dick. Drawing him in even deeper, even as she fell apart. Somewhere in the distance of his psyche, he felt the warning. The tingling that told him it was time to pull out.
He began to, but then Dawn bit his lip, drawing blood, intoxicating him with her kiss. And just like that, all his control was gone. He came with a roar against her lips, emptying inside her like he hadn’t in fifteen years.
The pleasure, the sensations. It was unbelievable. It crashed his mind, and an unknowable time went by before he was able to reboot. But eventually, he came back to his senses and realized what he had done.
“What was that?” She didn’t drink anymore. Victor had made sure of that. But her words sounded slurred as if she were under the influence of something.
Maybe the same something as him. His brain was mush, and his muscles felt like heavy jelly.
He could barely put the bodily commands together to pull out of her and zip himself back into his pants.
Silence was his tactic.
His best weapon. Especially with her.
But after stepping away from her, he answered truthfully, “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know,” she repeated, her voice cracking.
Then she slid down the door he had just fucked her against. And collapsed into tears.
He had done it. He’d finally done it. He’d broken her and made her cry, right in front of him.
Victor waited. He waited for the satisfaction he should be feeling now that he’d brought her so low.
But it never came.
And after a few moments, he walked away…and came back with a box of tissues from one of the side tables in the living room.
He held them out to her. And she eyed the square box like he was offering her a bomb.
Victor didn’t blame her.
That dynamite that never went off in Texas…it still felt like it was burning somewhere neither of them could see.
So he waited patiently, and eventually, she took the box from him.
“Don’t mind me,” she said with a self-deprecating tone as she dabbed at her eyes. “I’m just tired and kind of a mess after this weekend with my mom. All I need is some sleep. Then I’ll be ready to start fighting you like the Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote.”
He had no idea who those two characters were. But her promise made him want to laugh.
And take a seat on the floor beside her. So he did. Not holding her as she sniffled but sitting close to her until she calmed down.
It didn’t take long.
“So that was our hateyest hate-fuck yet. Was it good for you? Worth all the kissing and not spooging all over me when you came?”
She was joking in her usual inappropriate and irreverent way. He was almost sure of it. Yet he found himself considering—really considering the question.
Was that good for him? The answer was both yes and no. He’d liked kissing her. Liked coming inside of her. But the hating himself for doing it…that still didn’t feel great.
If he was honest with himself, it hadn’t felt great for going on ten years. Fucking Dawn and hating himself afterward felt like banging his head against the wall. More painful for him than anybody else. Nora was upset about their upcoming nuptials, but for Victor, it might be the only way out of this obsessive cycle.
