Chapter 4

Sarah’s bedroom was dim and uncluttered. A wide bed with dark sheets. One low lamp casting a warm circle across the floor. She led me inside and closed the door with her foot. The click of the latch sounded ordinary. Everything about the moment felt anything but.

She kissed me again before I could speak. This time there was no careful testing. Her mouth was open and sure, tongue sliding against mine, one hand already under the back of my sweater. The heat of her palm on my bare skin made my breath catch. I answered the kiss with equal force, fingers curling into the soft fabric of her t-shirt.

Sarah walked me backward until the backs of my knees hit the mattress. Instead of letting me fall she bent, hooked an arm under my thighs, and lifted me clean off the floor. The strength of it surprised a short sound out of me. She was solid and steady, carrying my weight without strain. Two steps and she set me down on the bed, following immediately so her body covered mine.

The mattress dipped. Her hips settled between my legs. Even through two layers of clothes I felt the hard ridge of her cock press against me. The reminder sent a fresh pulse of heat between my thighs. Sarah rolled her hips once, deliberate and slow, grinding that thickness against the seam of my jeans. I arched up to meet it.

Her mouth left mine and traveled down my jaw to my throat. She bit lightly at the side of my neck, then soothed the spot with her tongue. My hands slid under her shirt and mapped the warm plane of her back, the shift of muscle when she moved. She sat up just long enough to pull the t-shirt over her head and toss it aside. Beneath it she wore nothing. Her breasts were small and firm, nipples already tight. I reached for them without thinking. Sarah caught my wrists and pinned them lightly to the bed above my head.

“Stay,” she said.

The single word left no room for argument. I kept my arms where she placed them. She peeled my sweater upward and off, then the soft bralette underneath. Cool air touched my skin for only a second before her mouth closed over one breast. She sucked hard enough to draw a broken sound from my chest, then moved to the other side and did the same. Her free hand worked the button of my jeans open, dragged the zipper down, and shoved the denim and my panties halfway to my knees in one motion.

I kicked them the rest of the way off. Sarah’s palm cupped me immediately, two fingers sliding through the wetness that had gathered since the fitting room. She rubbed slow circles over my clit while her mouth stayed busy on my breasts. The dual sensation made my hips lift off the bed. She pressed me back down with the weight of her body and kept rubbing.

When she finally released my wrists I reached for the waistband of her pants. She let me. The soft fabric pushed down easily. Her cock sprang free, thick and already leaking at the tip. I wrapped my fingers around it and stroked once from base to head. Sarah’s breath left her in a rough exhale. She thrust into my fist, then pulled my hand away and pinned both wrists again.

“Not yet,” she said against my mouth.

She kissed me harder this time, almost bruising, while her hips settled fully between my legs. The bare length of her cock slid against my soaked folds, the head catching on my clit with every slow grind. I tried to shift, to line her up properly, but she held me in place with her weight and the grip on my wrists. The friction was maddening. Wet sounds filled the quiet room each time she dragged herself along me.

Sarah released one of my wrists only to reach between us and grip herself, rubbing the head of her cock up and down through my wetness without pushing in. I was open and aching for it. Every pass of that blunt heat made my thighs tremble. She watched my face the entire time, eyes dark, expression focused.

“You’re still thinking about him,” she said. Not a question.

I shook my head, but the denial felt thin. Mark’s name sat somewhere in the back of my mind like a stone. Sarah leaned down and bit the side of my neck hard enough to leave a mark.

“Stop,” she murmured. “Right now you’re here. With me. Feel this instead.”

She notched the head of her cock against my entrance and pushed forward just enough for the stretch to begin. Not all the way. Only the first thick inch. I gasped and tried to take more. Sarah held still, breathing evenly, denying the rest.

“Ask for it.”

The words came out before I could stop them. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me.”

Sarah pushed in another inch, then another, until she was halfway seated. The burn was familiar now and still overwhelming. She stayed there, letting me feel every ridge, every pulse. Only when I wrapped my legs around her waist and pulled did she give me the rest in one steady thrust.

The fullness punched a raw sound out of my throat. Sarah swallowed it with her mouth, kissing me deep while she began to move. The first strokes were controlled, almost measured. Then something in her shifted. She hooked one of my knees higher, changing the angle, and drove into me harder. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the room. My hands, finally free, clutched at her back and left red lines.

She fucked me like she had been waiting for permission all afternoon. Deep, relentless strokes that forced the air from my lungs each time she bottomed out. One of her hands slid between us and found my clit, rubbing in tight, wet circles that matched the rhythm of her hips. The dual pressure built fast. I came with my face pressed against her shoulder, a broken moan muffled by her skin, cunt clenching hard around the thick length inside me.

Sarah did not slow down. She fucked me through the climax and past it, chasing her own pace, the headboard beginning a soft knock against the wall. Sweat slicked the place where our stomachs met. I was still trembling from the first orgasm when the second one started to gather, lower and sharper. Sarah felt it. She shifted her angle again and rubbed my clit faster.

“Come again,” she said against my ear. “I want to feel it.”

I did. The second climax hit harder than the first, pulling a cry from me that the closed door could not fully contain. My legs locked around her. My nails dug into her shoulders. Sarah’s rhythm finally stuttered. She buried herself to the hilt with a low, gritted groan and came, cock pulsing deep inside me while her whole body went rigid above mine.

For several long breaths neither of us moved. The only sounds were our breathing and the distant traffic outside the loft windows. Sarah’s forehead rested against mine. Her cock twitched once more inside me before it began to soften.

She pulled out slowly. The sudden emptiness made me flinch. A thin trickle of wetness followed. Sarah rolled to the side and lay on her back, one arm still draped across my waist. I stared at the ceiling and waited for the guilt to return in full force.

It came, but quieter than before. The heat of her body beside me and the lingering throb between my legs kept it from settling as deeply as it had in the car.

Sarah turned her head on the pillow and looked at me.

“Still here,” she said.

“Still here,” I answered.

Outside, the city kept moving. Inside the loft the pasta sat cold on the counter and the engagement ring on my finger caught the low lamplight every time I shifted my hand. I did not take it off. I also did not get up and leave.

Sarah’s fingers traced a slow line down my stomach and came to rest just above the place where I was still wet and open. The touch was light. It felt like a question.

I answered by covering her hand with mine and pressing it lower.