I cannot get enough of her smooth skin, her perfect body. She is gorgeous, perfect, untouched… And knowing that I was the first man to have her is hotter than I could have imagined.
I slide my way back up her body as she tugs my shirt off, and I let her explore me, her hands tracing my muscles as I kiss her soft, supple mouth, her long, graceful neck. I sink my hands into her hair and pin her against me, loving the way her curves meld against my body, her chest heaving against mine. I kiss her neck, sink my teeth into the sensitive spot below her ear, and savor her faint gasp, the way she clenches her arms around me, holds me closer. Her mouth feathers along my neck, hesitant, tentative, and yet so much more confidant than she was when we first started to have sex just a couple of weeks ago.
I told her she was a fast learner, and she really is.
When I finally pull off her jeans and spread her legs, I can’t help sliding down to taste her pussy once more. The glorious, semi-sweet flavor, the way she pants and gasps as I work her with my tongue… I will never get tired of this. Feeling her give in to me, her resistance collapsing.
When she’s wet and quivering, I part her legs, loving the way she immediately wraps them around my waist, drawing me to her hungrily. I have to stop her before we get too close. I reach into my pocket for a condom. I slip it onto my cock right before I plunge into her, her tight pussy contracting around me. It’s all I can do not to lose it then and there.
I want to fuck her forever.
I want to make love to her forever. I want to never have to let her go.
I know I will, soon, and it only makes pull her closer to me. Kiss her harder, fiercely. Her mouth works against mine just as desperately, and her hips arch up in time with my thrusts when I start to move.
Her hands grip my back, my ass, her nails digging in hard enough to mark me. I’m probably leaving bruises on her ass as I thrust into her, slamming deep inside every time, my balls slapping against her. Neither of us cares. We want to leave marks. We want the other one to be stuck with the memory of us, long after tonight.
I already know I will be.
We finish at the same time, Pamona arching into me and groaning, her body quivering as she climaxes. I finish with a shout, calling her name, and she kisses me hard before I even finish, bucking her hips beneath me, clenching her pussy tight around my cock as though she wants to milk every last drop from me.
For a long time after we finish, I just lie against her chest, both of us covered in sweat, the scent of sex flooding the room around us. She holds me there, hands running through my hair, and neither of us needs to speak to know what we’re both thinking about.
She’s about to leave.
Pamona leaves today.
I’ve been up since dawn walking through the gardens. I can’t stand to watch her wake up, eat breakfast with Betsy. Act like everything is normal, except for the fact that there’s a car idling out front, the driver ready to take her to the airport. To her future without me.
After today, I will never see her again. I’ve already sworn that to myself. I’ll leave her and her family alone.
But I don’t know what to do now. Where to direct my attention. I’ve spent so long living for revenge, I feel empty without it.
My body actually hurts, and I wonder if this is how my father felt when he died. Aching so badly for his lost wife that the pain was physical.
Finally, the sun reaches high enough to stream through the trees in the garden, and I abandon the little table where I watched Pamona sketch roses, just like my mother did all those years ago. I walk back to the house, steeling myself to face my fate.
But when I head upstairs to change, I notice something odd. On the door of the office, where Pamona caught me a few days ago, where we had sex in the chair and then I pulled her into the shower after, there’s a note.
Frowning, I open the door. The computer is on and a video file is open on the desktop.
Play, says a note taped to the screen. I stride across the room. Peel the note off, and sit down in front of the computer.
She didn’t, I think, reaching for the mouse. She wouldn’t.
Something unpleasant curls in my stomach. I don’t want this anymore. I don’t want Pamona to debase herself just for revenge. That would hurt her as much as it would hurt her father, and I can’t stomach the thought of that.