jackhammering me harder than hearing my moans pick up.
"You gonna come for me, baby?" he says, when my body breaks into uncontrollable shaking, with my legs propped up against his chest, as he drills me nice and deep. "You gonna say my name?"
Everything is a groan, pleasure climbing higher and higher, until he pauses. "You gonna say my name when you come?"
"Fuck you," I moan, twisting myself onto him.
I'm so close, I just need...
"Fuck you," he growls back.
And then he plows me harder than ever, and everything blasts away. Yes, yes, yes!
"Landon!" a voice that's not mine cries out.
"Kyra!" a voice that's not his returns.
And all I can think, silly in his arms as our bodies wrap around each other and then pick up where we left off, more of more, more pleasure, more us, is that this is like a fairytale.
That this - us - we work. I was wrong about everything, too afraid. This - us - we work.
And then, as Landon's hard cock goes inside me again, it all starts up again.
**
Morning.
I'm warmer than usual and... naked?
My eyes snap open and I remember. Ohhh... Fuck.
Ohhh fuck no.
I swallow, then strain around to peer at Landon's peaceful still-asleep face.
Oh fuck yes?
I mean, the sex was... ugh.
I put that aside. Better not think about it. For now. Or a while.
I sink back into the bed, closing my eyes.
Maybe if I could sleep for just a little longer...
My eyes snap open.
So much for going slow. How was this past night in any way, shape or form 'slow'?
Still, am I really sorry it happened? The grocery shopping, the PJ shopping, the dinner, the dancing, the hotel room, the Jacuzzi, the sex, Landon saying "I love you..."
Hold the hell up.
Did Landon actually say "I love you?"
It doesn't matter. It's not the time to think of that - or be here.
It's time to go.
I take longer than strictly necessary to extricate myself from his arms. The last thing I need right now is him waking up. This is taking all of my self-control as it is, even with the persistent voice banging on the inside of my skull: What the hell have you done?
It scrambles me into my clothes, proper buttons to proper button holes be damned. Shoes without socks, dress on the dresser. And then, one last look at him.
God, that beautiful, beautiful man. He looks so peaceful, so content. As if I'm still in his arms.
Although, who knows, maybe he's just a peaceful-looking sleeper in general?
I pause. Nope, can't remember.
But still, am I really going to leave like this without saying goodbye?
My phone goes off. I don't check it, but I remember. The real reason I have to go, can't spend the rest of the day and the day after that with him.
I have a daughter. A life.
Luckily, there's no one to see my walk of shame (is it a walk of shame?) as I leave the hotel. I get to admire the mirror-panel walls, the marble step that leads to every room.
Yes, everyone's busy living their lives, minding their own business. I need to get back to doing the same. I was doing well. So very well, before.
I walk to my car as fast as I can walk while still walking. I get inside. Sit down.
Stare at the empty Volvo parked in the space in front of me.
What. The. Fuck.
Before the answer to that can land, I start up my car, get driving.
There's no room for me to sit here and process this how I need. Maybe I'll never process it. Maybe some things can never be processed.
Maybe there's no easy answer to falling for a guy who broke your heart already, and figuring out how to trust him again, and wondering if the feeling in your gut that it's wrong is knowledge or fear. God, and I still haven't told him.
Right now, though, I'm on my way to pick my daughter up from Mom's. That's the only thing that matters. That's important. That I have room for.
So, I drive the speed limit, stop at stop lights, and am very careful to not let myself think about what I've done.
As soon as Mom's powder-blue front door opens, Madison bobs up, halfway through tying her shoes, races to give me a great big bear hug. "Mom!"
She's got her hair in scraggly pigtails I can tell will be a job untangling tonight. Mom always was hilariously bad at doing hair.
Seeing her, it suddenly wells up in me.
God, my daughter - my beautiful,