She was off balance and overly hot, but she wasn’t out of control. It didn’t matter that this was wrong in every way. She had to do it anyway. And it didn’t matter whether her body wanted it or not.
Before she could figure out the next best step, Caleb tore his mouth away.
Kelly grunted in surprise, hoped he wasn’t changing his mind or rethinking things at this point.
He just stared at her—something wild in his face, the way it had been in the woods. Her pussy clenched at the memory, at his expression now. “Kelly?” he asked. “Are you feeling well enough for this?”
Her mind was working quickly, trying to figure out what he wanted to hear. “Yes. I want it. So bad.”
And that was it. It wasn’t according to plan, but it had worked anyway.
Both of them started grabbing at his T-shirt until he finally pulled it off in one quick move.
She lifted her hands to caress the strong planes and firm muscles of his chest.
It was better if she didn’t look at his face. Better if she didn’t think about who this was. She would pretend he was a sexy stranger she’d just met in a bar.
Concentrating only on the details—the darker shading of his nipples—she fondled them, rubbing up against his groin again with her hip. She heard him gasp in response.
Suddenly he was pushing her backward, until she was on her back on the bed. He was over her. On top of her. His mouth closing over her breast through the cotton of her T-shirt.
He was skilled with his tongue. It fluttered over her nipple expertly. Which was a good thing, since she needed to be more aroused than she was.
Her body started responding, and her feelings and memories resisted that response—denying any possibility of her father’s murderer giving her pleasure. She forced them down, though, in an intentional mental move.
She needed this for her plan to work. Needed it. It didn’t matter at all if her body liked it. It would be better that way. So she relaxed, curving her fingers around his head. Took deep breaths. Closed her eyes. Thought only about the sensations.
He nipped at her nipple, and Kelly felt the corresponding tug at her center. His hand slid up, played with her other breast, and she arched her back as the sensations collected automatically—no matter who was doing this to her.
Her T-shirt now had a wet patch over one breast from the moisture of Caleb’s mouth, and soon it felt like the wet fabric was nonexistent.
Kelly realized that she hadn’t been making any noises, so she released a husky moan. Pushed Caleb’s head into her breast. The dual sensations from his mouth and his fingers—on both of her breasts simultaneously—was starting to work. Her breathing quickened. She felt herself grow a little wet.
Focused on that. Not on who was making it so.
His hands were now skimming over her body. They started to push up her T-shirt. Kelly took advantage of the conveniently bunched fabric, pulling the shirt over her head, baring her body to him completely.
It was hard to judge whether she should be passive in this encounter or if she should take initiative in how and what they did. It was difficult to get a good read on what would appeal to Caleb the most, since she was so disoriented by the emotions and sensations. But he’d liked being in control in the woods, so she gave it to him again now.
She let him do what he wanted and tried to pretend to herself that she didn’t want it too.
The room was silent except for the slightly springy sound of the bed as Caleb positioned himself between her legs. Her eyes were still closed, but she could feel him rubbing against her naked body—something odd about the contrast between his bare chest and his clothed legs and hips.
She was doing all right for the moment, but she needed to open her eyes—at least to go through with the next series of steps. Taking another deep breath, Kelly forced her eyes open. She directed her gaze at his face, trying not to focus too clearly.
Caleb’s face was a blur, but she could feel his hand buried in her hair, spreading the strands out against the pillow. His eyes were raking over her—she noticed this only when her vision started to focus more effectively—and on his face was that same heat, same dominance, same possession. It was just like the other day. And his speed had slowed down to a smoldering, leisurely crawl.
She hated it. Hated everything it implied. Hated the way her body kept reacting to it. Wanted to claw at his expression, to pull his skin off in strips to make that look disappear. She wanted to cover her breasts and her groin, suddenly feeling exposed in a way she hadn’t in years.
It shouldn’t matter. Countless men had seen her body, in more depraved contexts than this. But this felt worse than anyone seeing her naked before.
She shifted her eyes down to his chest, unable to look at his face anymore. She began to fumble at the front of his pants until they were unfastened, making her movements intentionally clumsy and eager. When she pushed his pants down over his lean hips, he moved to pull them off completely.
Then Caleb was naked above her—hot and ruthless and everywhere.
Kelly panicked with a momentary wave of dizziness. She had to close her eyes and clench her fists in order to keep from pushing him away. But she didn’t fight against the feelings. Instead, she let them wash over her. Moved into them. Recognized them for what they were—irrational terror of this superficial act, which was merely a physical motion between two bodies—and thus was able to overcome it.
Breathing deeply, Kelly opened her eyes and arched beneath him, moaning a little. She rubbed her pelvis against his erect cock. Despite her panic, her body was still responsive from the stimulation. It should be all right. She could do this.
So she squirmed beneath him, trying to get more friction to trigger more of her physical arousal. She was starting to feel more comfortable and in control of the situation. Starting to remember her prepared strategy.
Then—fuck!—he was kissing her again.
His kisses were the hardest part, and she’d thought he was through with that brand of torture. But his mouth was moving over hers again, ravenous and greedy, and her own mouth was far too eager in response. His tongue was fluttering in a series of moves that she wasn’t coherent enough to trace.
Soon she was having trouble getting enough air through her nose and felt a wave of claustrophobia overtake her.
Tearing her mouth away, she turned her head and gasped out, “Caleb, please. I want you now.”
His lips had moved to her throat, but that was much more acceptable than her mouth. He murmured over her skin, “You sure?”
“Yeah,” she replied, her fingers once more skimming down his back. “Condom.”
Caleb pulled up and stared down at her, his eyes holding hers. “Right.” He shook his head a little, as if trying to pull himself together. She could feel his erection pressing into her thigh, so she knew focusing might be a bit difficult for him. “I have some upstairs.” He groaned a little and rolled off her, then off the bed. “I’ll get them.”
He looked tense and uncomfortable, which was absolutely perfect. So Kelly took advantage of it. “I have a couple in my purse,” she said breathlessly. “Inner pocket.”
Caleb went to grab her clutch purse, and Kelly rubbed at her clit under the covers, which she had pulled up halfway over her body, hoping to get herself a little wetter while he was busy.
The search for the condom was rushed and clumsy, but Caleb eventually pulled a packet out of the inner pocket of her purse. He came back over, pulled back the covers, and got into bed with her once more.
Tearing the packet open, Caleb rolled on the condom, which was prelubricated.
He positioned himself between her legs again and felt at the juncture between her thighs, his hands brushing over her pussy. Kelly moaned and pumped her hips when he pressed his fingertips into her clit, and she continued moving her pelvis, so that he couldn’t explore much farther. “Caleb,” she whimpered. “Please. I don’t want to wait anymore.”
He leaned down and
kissed her again, his tongue sliding along the line of her lips. He was a good kisser. An excellent kisser. He knew exactly what he was doing, and her body kept automatically responding to him.
But all she could think about was her father’s face, that day they’d been hiking in the woods. She’d never seen him again—not alive anyway.
He’d written a memo to Caleb before he died, mentioning his concern over some of the research results, and he’d been shot dead not long afterward. Kelly had a whole file of evidence that testified to Caleb’s ruthlessness. He lied. Manipulated. Cheated. Stole. Bullied.
And killed.
He’d killed her father, as truly as if he’d pulled the trigger.
Pulling out of the kiss again, Kelly whimpered once more. This time, it was more from pained desperation than from unwanted pleasure, but she figured that, at this point, it would be difficult to tell the difference.
“Kelly,” Caleb said thickly. “You want this?”
She’d already answered that damned question. More than once. Why wouldn’t he just shut up and fuck her?
“Yeah,” she whispered. Needing to distance herself in any way she could, she started to roll over onto her stomach, deciding rear entry would be easier psychologically and thus much more comfortable. She wouldn’t have to look at his face.
But Caleb stopped her before she could turn over, holding his hands on her shoulders. “Kelly?”
Swallowing hard, she tilted onto her side again and murmured, “I was going to let you—”
“No,” he replied softly, pushing her onto her back with the position of his body. He brought his hands down to part her legs and line up his cock at her entrance. “This is good.”
With a sigh, Kelly submitted to the position and clutched at his shoulders, forced her muscles to relax. She closed her eyes and jerked her head to the side as Caleb started to sink inside her.
It wasn’t uncomfortable. She was a lot more aroused than she’d expected, and the condom was lubed. The substance of his cock pushed into her easily, and her body automatically accommodated itself to his size.
But she had a hard time distancing herself appropriately.
She’d never been a big fan of missionary, since the man fucking her was right there, right in her face, and touching her everywhere. In her plans for this moment, Caleb had always been taking her from behind, in a way that wouldn’t force her to think of him as a man. This—was more difficult.
She moaned a little, because she knew she needed to keep up her performance, but she mostly concentrated on breathing deeply and keeping her mind from dwelling on what she was doing.
“Fuck,” Caleb breathed, his mouth so close to her skin that his breath wafted across the side of her face.
She hated the sound of the raspy exclamation, but it was a good sign. He liked how she felt. So, remembering the details she’d planned earlier, Kelly started writhing beneath him, bucking up her hips as if she were desperate for the stroke of his cock. “Caleb,” she panted. “Caleb, please.”
He made a strange grunt and held himself perfectly still. And she knew he was staring at her face or her body, because she could feel his eyes burning into her skin.
She arched up and wrapped her legs around him, in a way she knew men really enjoyed. She squeezed her muscles as she thrust her pelvis, riding him from below.
Caleb groaned again—long, low, and desperate. “Fuck, you’re incredible.”
She opened her eyes at that, felt like she had to. This was important. She needed to appear more enthusiastic. She kept her voice husky and overwhelmed as she whispered, “So are you.” She bucked up erratically a few times. “Please, Caleb, fuck me.”
He straightened his arms, raising his upper body higher—a move that Kelly greatly appreciated. He was farther away this way. She couldn’t feel his breath or see the little lines beside his mouth and eyes. She breathed a little easier and stretched with a lingering groan—partly for effect, and partly to clear the remnants of her panic.
Caleb pulled back his pelvis, until just of the tip of his cock was left in her body. The muscles in his arm rippling tightly, he thrust back into her, levering his hips up as he drove forward.
Under different circumstances, Kelly would definitely have enjoyed it, but there was absolutely no way she was going to reach orgasm tonight. But she knew how to act. She arched back her neck and gasped loudly at the stroke of his cock.
He pulled back again. Thrust forward. Levered up. Kelly dug her fingers into the hard muscles of his biceps, as if she were clutching at him in urgent response.
She continued moving her body restlessly—squirming beneath him, pumping up against his thrusts, tossing her head back and forth on the pillow. But she kept her vocal response intentionally subdued.
Caleb wouldn’t be convinced by screams and howls of pleasure. So Kelly bit her lip, as if she were trying to contain her response to the sensations he was generating. As he fucked her, she twisted her face more and more. It probably looked like pleasure—she was pretty confident that it would—but it was mostly part of the performance, and from the knowledge that this was Caleb Marshall inside her.
The same Caleb Marshall who had killed her father.
After a few minutes of his slow, steady strokes—strong, controlled, and designed to give pleasure—Kelly made a stifled mewling sound and tightened her thighs around his hips. Deciding she had looked up at him for long enough, she turned her head to the side and squeezed her eyes closed, contorting her face as she whimpered again.
“Kelly,” he said roughly.
She didn’t know what he wanted but hoped he was just checking for her reaction. “Yeah?” she gasped, biting down hard on her lip.
“Can you come?” His arms were still tense and straight, providing a strategic angle for him to drive into her. She knew his restraint must be weakening because his body was trembling with strain and heat. She wasn’t watching him, but she could feel his response just the same.
“Yeah,” she replied hoarsely. “Think so.” She rocked beneath him, moving easily with his rhythm and accelerating with him as his thrusts became shorter and faster. “Yeah,” she rasped in response to his faster motion. “Good. Faster, Caleb.”
She didn’t want to extend this any longer than necessary. Things were going all right for now, but it could fall apart at any moment.
And she really wanted to get him out of her body.
Caleb released a hoarse groan and panted heavily as he pumped into her, his cock sliding slickly in her tightened channel with a tempo that was growing more uncontrolled. She couldn’t see him, but she could feel him—his hard flesh inside her, his firm ass beneath her heels, the heat of his body radiating out to her bare skin.
She wasn’t close to coming. Didn’t even feel very much. But it wasn’t physically uncomfortable, and she didn’t have to look at him now.
He wasn’t that much different from any other man.
Deciding it had been long enough for an orgasm to be realistic, she started to jerk her body erratically beneath him. “Yeah,” she gasped, tilting her head back. “Yeah, yeah.” She slid a hand down between their bodies—there was just enough room, since he was holding his body off hers—and rubbed at her clit.
Twisting her face into a tight mask, she whimpered one last time—then, with a few more jerks of her hips, she let out a frantic little sob. She convulsed beneath him, tightening her thighs and her inner muscles around him.
She clamped down around his cock as hard as she could, and she heard him release a burst of uncontrolled sound. His body was tensed so rigidly that she could feel it with her eyes closed. He gave a few last pushes into her clenched muscles, and released a smothered shout.
And he was coming—above her, inside her, around her—his body an unleashed coil.
They were both gasping as his spasms finally faded. Kelly made sure her body twitched occasionally, and she forced herself to relax completely, as if in the aftermath of pleasure.
&
nbsp; But, before she could figure out the best way to handle the afterward, Caleb’s elbows buckled, and his weight pressed down on her—warm, sated, damp, and heavy.
And it was horrible. The worst part of the entire experience.
Worse than his kisses. Worse than his possessive, exposing gaze. Worse than his thrusting, or his mouth on her breast, or his hands moving all over her flesh.
Something was utterly unspeakable about the feel of his relaxed, satisfied body on top of her. Kelly tried to think rationally. Tried to plan her strategy, making use of the way he had obviously taken pleasure in her.
But instead she thought of her father.
She pictured her father’s face when he smiled. When he laughed. When he hugged her. When he’d been hiking with her that morning.
She thought about how her father’s little girl had just willfully fucked his murderer.
He was on top of her. All over her. A sweltering, inescapable weight. His cock was softening inside her, and his face was buried in her hair. He was panting. She thought she could even feel his heart beating.
Kelly started to choke.
She saw her father’s body on the ground, his skull half blown out. Blood all over the dirt trail. She felt Caleb’s cock pulsing inside her, heard him grunting out his pleasure.
Unthinkingly, she pushed at Caleb’s shoulders until he pulled out and rolled off her. She had just enough sense to stretch and breathe out, “God, that was good,” as she got more distance from him.
Her head turned away from him, she took deep breaths until the flurry of emotional reaction subsided.
What the hell was the matter with her?
Yes, it had been hard, but she could do this. She wasn’t weak, and he wasn’t going to get away with what he’d done.
Women throughout history had done this very thing. Slept with men who were their enemies. Sometimes constructing elaborate deceptions. Some of which lasted their whole lives. It was possible. There were dozens of precedents she could name.