“It’s not going to fit,” Hazel whispered, wide-eyed.
And here I was thinking I couldn’t get any more fucking turned on. My dick throbbed, pre-cum gathering in the tip of the rubber.
I grabbed her legs and pushed them to her shoulders, then brought my dick to her entrance. I met her gaze. “Ready?”
“Yes. Now. Please.” The words were choked.
I entered her, the velvet silk of her walls muted by the condom. She cried out, and I covered her mouth, working my dick inside her, the pleasure of her soft, supple body against the hardness of mine driving me to the edge, nearly instantly.
I held onto my sanity, my thumbs biting into the meat of her thighs, my lips finding hers again. Her tongue was desperate, massaging, wanting more of me, as much as she could get.
Hazel would have everything she wanted and more.
I flipped her over onto her front then brought her to her knees, pounding into her fast then bringing the pace to a slow burn. I reached between her legs and found her clit, brushing my fingers over it again and again.
Hazel’s second climax was as vicious as the first, and the pressure of her tightening around my hungry cock was almost too much to take. But this wasn’t how I wanted it to end.
I brought her onto her back again, and she wrapped her legs around my waist. I kissed her, bracing my arms either side of her head, working my shaft deep and allowing myself to focus on her smell, her taste, the sensation of her nipples brushing against my chest.
My balls tightened, and my thrusting grew wild and uncontrollable. I filled the condom in five long squirts, driven by the thought of filling her without the barrier.
“Fuck,” I muttered. “Fuck.” I kissed her a final time then grasped the base of the rubber and drew out of her.
Hazel’s skin was dewy with sweat, but she hid her body from me under the sheets, eyes blazing with angry heat again.
“Bathroom?” I asked.
She pointed to the door and then right.
I grabbed my clothing and headed out of the room, quiet so I wouldn’t wake her old man. Five minutes later, I was back in Hazel’s room, the condom disposed of and my clothes back on. She was dressed too--wearing a loose T-shirt that hid all the delicious curves I’d just enjoyed.
“You need to leave,” she said, immediately. “This was a mistake.”
I brought out my shit-eating grin. “Was it? The wet spot on your bed begs to differ.” I laughed, raising my hands at her outraged hiss. “All right, gorgeous. I’ll leave.”
She scrambled off the bed and followed me to the front door, like she was afraid I’d hide out in the fucking hall closet and jump out in the middle of the night with a “surprise!” She’d clearly forgotten who I was.
I didn’t chase women. I didn’t need to.
“You can’t come back here ever again,” she said. “This was just... a... it was nothing.” Her lips parted, and her tongue darted out, wetting them.
Quickly, before I could regret it, I brought my mouth to hers and gave her one last parting kiss.
I drew back, leaving her breathing ragged. “What are you doing?” she growled. “What are you...?”
“Just something to remember me by.” And then I was gone, down the front steps and into the waiting SUV. She stood on the front step, glowering at me as the car pulled off.
Likely, Hazel believed it was the last time she’d ever see me. Little did she know, this was only the beginning.
8 Hazel
If I kicked myself any harder over what had happened last night, I’d morph into a donkey or a horse or... shit, I couldn’t even come up with a good metaphor for how I felt.
I’d let Damien have his way with my body and mind, and I had enjoyed it. I had enjoyed every second. The aftermath was distilled fury at myself for making the idiotic choice to let him into the house in the first place.
He had told me to “say it,” and I had spat the words out, loud and clear. “Fuck you.”
I’d never be able to cuss again without getting turned on.
“Bullshit,” I murmured.
It was the start of a long shift at work, but there hadn’t been any delivery calls yet, so I hung out while customers traipsed in and ordered pizzas of every size and type. Deep dish pepperoni was the most popular.
Damien’s order.
This was ridiculous.
I didn’t want him. Didn’t even like him as a person.
I sat at one of the corner tables with its checked tablecloth with a notepad, tapping my pen against it. The plan was to forget Damien and to come up with a way to save McCutcheon’s Café. Yeah, my dad had technically already sold it, but I hadn’t studied business management only to lose my dream restaurant.
“Yo, Hazel!” Jessa waved from the counter. “Can you cover for me for like five minutes? I need to use the little bitches’ room.”
“Sure.” It would give me a break from beating myself up and going around in circles over the business plan I’d been drawing up to take to the bank.
I shifted into friendly “how may I help you” gear and positioned myself behind the counter in the Pieslice—one of many outlets across the city and country. It ate at me that I worked here, rather than in the café, but I had to suck it up and do what I could to support Dad and try to scrabble the capital together to get a loan.
I served a few customers, gave them their order numbers, and put the orders through, my mind wandering back to the café then to Damien then to the café again.
You have to stop thinking about him.
Besides, I wouldn’t be seeing him again.
“Hey!” My sister appeared in front of the counter, dark circles
