An Everlasting Pursuit (PURSUIT, #3) Page 3

  The contractions of her muscles are a welcome to my throbbing cock; the sound of my testicles slamming against her bare ass is toxic to my brain. She’s panting, trying unsuccessfully to catch her breath. Tears are rolling down her temples, and cat-like moans ringing in my ears, her cheeks blooming deep red. I continue hammering into her, making her scream louder with each thrust.

  “I love you,” I purr, willing her to tell it back to me, so I can reach my own climax, too. It’s not like she hasn’t told me she loved me. She did, several times. But, catching her staring at Jack’s pictures has made me vulnerable, and I feel like I won’t be able to have my release without hearing her love from her beautiful lips.

  Her eyes are closed; she’s biting her lips, perhaps lost in an old memory with Jack. Her spasms die out, yet my balls tense and ache with the agonizing need to release.

  “I love you, do you hear me?” I say, louder this time. When she doesn’t respond, I plunge into her harder to wake her up and take her back from whatever daydream she must be enjoying, despite knowing that my thrusts will hurt her. But, I’ll be hurt, too, and perish without her love.

  She snaps open her hazy eyes and moves her lips, but no intelligible words come out, only meaningless moans.

  “Say it,” I roar. “I need to hear it.”

  Her inside muscles start to clench and pulse again, making my shaft feel triple its size with the need to shoot. “I...” Her voice trails off, and her eyes roll back in her head inside their sockets. Her body is shaking visibly. “I love you, Adam. I love you very much.” She forces the words out, although she looks like she’d rather groan away her second climax.

  As soon as her words are out, I thrust one last stroke and detonate my full load deep into her womb, my body stiffening in the process. I free her legs and drop my full weight on her torso, still keeping my pulsing cock inside her. She complains about being smashed down under me but doesn’t try to push me away, and instead locks her arms around my neck and pulls me down for a profound kiss.

  “You’re going to be my end,” she says when she pulls her lips away from mine. If she means her end in terms of having cardiac arrest because of having mind-blowing sex every time we end up in bed, it’s probably a more valid point for me than her.

  I’m too breathless and exhausted to respond to her, though. Slowly, I ease out of her, roll down next to her on the bed, pulling her halfway up to my chest, and close my eyes. I can feel a deep, refreshing sleep coming. Her hand slips down my torso and lands on my deflated cock, and she wraps it around my shaft and testicles.

  “What are you doing,” I ask, half dozing off, half awake.

  “Trying to sleep,” she replies, without moving her hand away from my genitals.

  I open my heavy-lidded eyes to look down at her. “With your hand on my junk?”

  “Hmm, hmm.”

  “Baby, I won’t be able to sleep like that.”

  A sly grin appears at her lips. “Not my problem,” she murmurs.

  Gently, I slip my shoulder away from under her head and roll on my side, my back against her chest. She’s persistent about having her grip on my dick, and I wonder whether this new act has anything to do with her bad mood. I close my eyes, willing myself into a deep sleep and let her do whatever she feels like doing. Though my exhaustion borders close to death, I give up after some minutes of tiresome internal discussion and roll back to face her. Her hand stays glued to my now-semi-hard cock.

  “I’m getting hard instead of some sleep.”

  She slides open her eyes and glares at me. “Just close your eyes and try to sleep. I’ll suck it off if you can’t.”

  “Baby, now there’s no way sleep will come to me.” I smile and pull her back into my arms, grinding my cock into her hand. “What’s the matter? Why the sudden need to grope me to sleep?”

  Her eyes fall to my chest, and she keeps her lips pressed together. My mind roams back to the morning and to the little lie I conveyed to her about Bree while having sex. Can she still be upset about that? Is that why she exploded at me for not having a t-shirt on while jogging?

  Can she be... jealous? Of me?

  Here goes my presumption about holding the patent rights to be the jealous one in our relationship.

  “Talk to me, or I’ll fuck you until you speak,” I whisper softly to her ear. I move over to her to prove my threat and resume my position between her legs, my erection pressed against her stomach.

  Her eyes find mine, yet her mouth doesn’t open except for a muffled sound escaping from it when I start rubbing her entrance with the head of my cock.

  “Are you jealous?” The words feel as alien as the concept they represent. She has me wrapped around her little finger, and I’m hers with everything I am and will ever be. How can the thought of me cheating on her possibly cross her mind?

  She nods. Her cheeks flush, possibly with embarrassment. “I can’t live with the fact that you think about fucking other women.”

  “Fucking other women? Do you even hear what you’re saying? It’s simply impossible. You know why?”

  She looks at me with inquisitive eyes. Everything about her looks so beautiful, I force myself not to lean down and kiss her.

  I slip my hand between her thighs and cup her crotch. “All I can think about is this tight, little, pink hole of yours. Okay, I think about your mouth, your breasts, ass, and legs, too. But mostly this. I fantasize about being inside it all day long and fucking you ’til you’re half dead. Because when I’m inside you and we’re connected like this, it’s the only time I’m sure you’re mine completely with your body, mind, and soul. Only at that precious moment, we become one and complete each other. Those intimate moments with you are worth my life, and I’ll never change it for another woman, or a land, or the possibility of being the president of the States. I’ll fuck you when you’re down, irritated, tired, sick, pregnant, old and wrinkled. As long as I can get it hard and you want it, you’ll have your daily doses of my seed and I’ll have my daily doses of you.”

  Before I slide my cock inside of her again, I run my thumb through her swollen folds, which are still soaked with my previous release. She must be hurting from the earlier sex, but doesn’t try to stop me. Instead, she’s moaning again as if she’s enjoying the pain my cock must be inflicting on her tender flesh. Or maybe she doesn’t feel the pain now that she’s still high with the recent orgasms.

  She’ll be sore tomorrow, yet I’d rather die than pull out of her wanting pussy and ignore its need to come apart again. She must be burning with the same desire as I, because she’s purring “I want you, I want you so bad,” into my ear.

  “You have me.” I lace my fingers through her hair to hold her face securely close to mine. Her big, blue eyes are restless, darting between my own eyes and lips. I dip my head until my lips are barely touching hers and whisper to her mouth, “And just so you know, there’s no fleeing me even if you change your mind someday. I’ll find you wherever you go and make you mine again.”

  She moves forward to draw my lips to hers, barely letting me finish my words, and surprises me with a kiss full of longing and possessiveness, while I slide in and out of her with slow and long strokes. Her hands claw my shoulders and biceps. Mine wander down, cup her breasts, and then roam down over to her belly.

  One day, maybe very soon, her belly will be fat and round with my child in it, and that’ll be the ultimate proof of my claim on her. Not even Jack can measure up to that. Dead or alive.

  Her hips are moving in constant, little circles around my erection, making me marvel at her scorching neediness to get off. I’m so tired I start feeling dizzy, but my desire to satisfy her and meet her at that ultimate point of oneness as we come apart overpowers everything else. She breaks our kiss and tilts her head forward to watch me fuck her swollen sex, and I can’t help but shudder at the sight of the colossal lust flooding her expression.

  I straighten back and slip my hands under her buttocks to carry her hips up so she can
get a better view of our fuck. Her hands are helplessly grasping the bed sheets, and each time my cock disappears between her engorged folds, she groans and closes her eyes, only to open them again to see my cock sliding out, glistening with her juices. Her lower lip is trapped between her teeth, her hair a rowdy mess, her eyes wildly dilated. She looks like she can barely hold it together and soon starts trembling with a wave of tormenting spasms, massaging my cock inside her vagina.

  The heady rush of orgasm doesn’t keep her from announcing her love to me, this time without me having to ask for it. She rises up to unite our lips with a deep, consuming kiss, urging my looming climax closer. Her convulsing inner muscles are boiling, and drenched, and milking my cock violently for my load. I run my hands through her hair at the back of her head to hold her in place, while I pound into her with deep and hard strokes and blow my fervent seeds deep into her still-contracting pussy.

  If this isn’t an undeniable proof of my complete submission to her, then I don’t know what is. “I’m yours and you’re mine. Forever,” I say as the last spurt of my sperm fills her pussy. I pull out, sit back, and watch the thick, white liquid gushing out of her sex—the clear proof of my claim on her—and smear it with my fingers around her labia and her mound up to her belly. “You’ll sleep like this, with my signature on you.”

  A drained smile tugs at her lips, and she grabs my hand, bringing it to her mouth, and licks the sperm off my fingers. Then, she drags me down, and I happily settle beside her, drifting into a deep sleep, without being bothered by her small hand residing again over my cock.

  5 – TAYLOR: Insecurities, go away!

  I drive Adam to a morning meeting that he claims to have scheduled weeks ago with Mr. Hawkins for the biggest project Edelman Constructions are overtaking under my management. The peculiar detail Adam has difficulty conveying to me is that instead of Mr. Hawkins himself, his daughter is coming to the meeting.

  I try not to dwell too much on the fact that Adam will have a meal with a young woman in a chic restaurant in Hollywood, but I can’t stop myself from waiting on the street across from the restaurant after dropping off Adam, to see exactly what kind of woman Miss Hawkins is.

  I find myself swallowing big chunks of saliva to repress my shock, when an incredibly tall and beautiful, blonde girl—she can’t be more than twenty five—shakes hands with Adam in front of the restaurant entrance.

  I curse myself for not knowing about this meeting, or I’d personally be there with Adam, or better yet, prevent Adam from joining. My new assistant, Sabrina, must have forgotten to inform me about it. If I was the cold-hearted bitch Bree sometimes jokingly calls me, I’d fire Sabrina on the spot. However, I manage to accept the fact that my insecurities with myself and my husband aren’t actually Sabrina’s problem.

  I wait fifteen minutes, trying to convince myself that it’s better for everyone involved if I don’t go busting up the meeting. I’ll not just appear as an insecure nutcase of a wife, but it’ll damage my professional appearance as a boss of a multi-million-dollar company as well.

  So, I swallow my pride and drive to work, whispering heart-wrenching prayers to God that Adam won’t have any interest in that girl.

  After I park the car in the gated parking lot of the building hosting my office, I hasten apprehensively to the elevator. My fear stems from the violent assault I experienced in the parking lot of my apartment building, thanks to Valerie. Being in a parking lot still gives me the shivers. Particularly when I’m alone, like today.

  I have to remind myself that the assailant is behind bars and Valerie heavily medicated in a well-guarded psychiatric ward, in order to make it to the elevator without having a panic attack. As soon as the doors slide close and the elevator begins to ascend, I take a deep breath and check my phone. No message or missed calls. Adam must be fully concentrated on Miss Hawkins.

  Okay, no. I shouldn’t worry about the tiny possibility of Adam becoming interested in that girl. He promised in front of all our families and friends to love and cherish me for the rest of our lives and not get involved with someone else. I should take his words seriously. Yet, it’s not always so easy. Damn it!

  I try not to think about the fact that Adam left Pat, his girlfriend of four years, for me, and not even my then relationship with his best friend could stop the ordeal Pat had to suffer after their breakup. I'm afraid Adam’s love for me has a shelf life, too, until the next girl comes and steals him away from me.

  This is new to me; needing a man’s constant attention, hanging onto every word that comes out of his mouth. And the worst of it all is feeling jealous. I’d never entertained any thought of jealousy when I was with Jack, and I know I shouldn’t with Adam either, since he’s been nothing but loyal. Still, I can’t seem to keep myself from biting my nails while wondering whether Adam has already started fantasizing about that girl.

  I shake away the distracting thoughts, when Sabrina greets me with at the doorway and gets my jacket. Her big, brown eyes smile, and she nods briefly with her head when I ask for a cup of tea and heads for the kitchen.

  I open my office door to find Bree settled in my chair, her feet on my desk. A particularly strange scene, but good enough to push away my obsessive thoughts about Adam.

  Raising an eyebrow, I cross my arms and shake my head. “HR manager is the highest rank you can ever get in this company.”

  Bree laughs and draws her legs down. “I was just testing the chair for its level of comfort. I think it’s about time to get rid of some of the ancient furniture and bring in a modern, fresh feeling to our offices.”

  I stride toward my desk, wave at her so she leaves my chair alone, and toss my handbag into the top drawer. “My chair is just fine, so is the rest of the furniture in our company.”

  “I’d like to politely disagree, because it’s a proven fact that anatomically shaped office chairs dramatically improve work productivity.”

  “Working instead of chatting about nonsense has the same effect, too,” I say.

  “Maybe. But, I managed to land a great discount at a newly opened furniture store in Burbank. If we’re going to trick more clients into doing business with us, our offices should look luxurious and classy. Every little detail in our offices, especially yours, should say you’re rolling in the cash. It’s all about having a successful image.”

  Sabrina enters with a cup of tea, leaves it on the desk for me, and disappears without saying a word. She and Bree couldn’t have been more different, standing at the polar ends of the talkativeness scale. Bree would never leave a room without opening her mouth to give her opinion, even if she didn’t have the slightest idea what’s going on. She has this immense need to pour out every little thing that’s crossing her mind, while Sabrina is so silent, with both her mouth and in her behavior, that I have to sometimes check on her office to see whether she’s still there, only to find her silently working.

  I take a sip from the black tea and settle behind my desk. “Our quality work should speak for us, not some overly priced furniture that’ll be outdated in less than two years anyway.”

  “Let me just remind you of how much Adam appreciates a juicy, round ass. If you keep on sitting on that chair, your ass will flatten like that of an eighty-year-old granny.”

  She had to bring that up, while jealous thoughts about Miss Hawkins are running rampant in my mind and Adam’s made-up story about having sex with Bree is still fresh in my memory. I wonder how much of that story was made up spontaneously and how much of it belongs to his daily fantasies.

  The thought of Adam with another woman makes my insides twist with disgust. Actually it’s more than that; it gives me a painful sense of bloating in the abdomen, although I can’t really see what one thing has to do with the other. I shift in my chair to ease the increasing discomfort, but the pressure multiplies to the level of unbearable, which leaves me no choice but to relax my muscles.

  Everywhere.

  Dang it!

  Bree wide opens her
eyes, then winces, covering her nose with her fingers. “Have you just farted?”

  I cover my face with shame. “Sorry!” Have I just given her the topic of the month to gossip around the office?

  Bree laughs, bending forward, gripping her belly as the laughter shakes her body. “Don’t worry, it’s just me. Did you eat chili? ’Cause that makes me fart like a mule, too.”

  “We ate Mexican. Something with bean salsa. I can’t remember the name of the food,” I pause to consider whether it’s really the beans that put me in such an embarrassing position. “You’re not to say a word about it to anyone. Understand?”

  “No, I won’t,” Bree can only whisper in between laughs and moves toward the windows to open one and let some fresh air in. This’d be the right time for the earth to swallow me and never release me again.

  I watch her awkwardly until her laughter winds down, and she finally sits on the chair across me.

  “Now that we crossed this strange boss-and-subordinate border with the worsts-smelling fart that can ever come out of a human, I feel compelled to ask you for a favor.”

  “You’re not threatening to use it against me if I say no, are you?” I can’t even fire her, even if I wanted. She’s just become a part of my life with her constant support.

  “No way. I just need someone to accompany me to a blind date. You see, I have been chatting for ages with this guy I met online, and today we’re gonna meet for the first time. He’s smart and funny, but didn’t want to send me a picture of himself. I need to know if the reason is because he’s too hideous to look at. If you drive over to the restaurant with me and spy on him before I meet him, you’ll spare me a boring lunch if he’s bald, or has a third ear, or something.”

  I roll my eyes with an effect. “There are several bald guys that are handsome. And, I don’t need to spy on him to know he’s hideous. No guy posting on Craigslist will be handsome to any degree.”

  “Like I don’t know that. I met him through LASingles.com. Why do you think I’d look for a guy on Craigslist, anyway?”