Scorchingly hot and cold shocks jolted through my body, making me moan in response. His mouth caressed and consumed my breast. It felt like no other lover I'd ever known knew my body the way he did, which was ridiculous because this was the first time he was acquainting himself with the most intimate parts of me. It was also terrifying.
"Please," I finally whispered. I needed him inside me, as wrong and dangerous as that was. I hated myself for wanting it, but the desire was too consuming. And, I told myself, I had gone too far already. I'd hate myself later; for now I'd just enjoy it. "Just do it already."
He laughed breathily against my wet flesh. Brown, desire-drenched eyes met mine. "So impatient... What do you want?"
My eyes clenched shut. Why did he have to make me say it? Couldn't we just fuck and get it out of our systems? I'd be guilty enough when it was over. Did I have to have memories of begging for his cock? Maybe he wanted me to have those memories; I was learning a lot more about him than I ever thought I would.
"What do you want?" he repeated, his talented mouth moving down to kiss and lick my belly.
I sighed, knowing nothing would happen until I answered him. I remember him always beeing stubborn. "I want you."
He muffled a laugh against my belly.
Slowly, so slowly I wanted to scream, he pulled my panties down. The fabric and his rough fingers tickled my skin. My wet pussy clenched at the erotic feeling of the cool air.
"And what do you need?" his sinfully low voice asked.
I was ready to kick him in the face, but that would mean he couldn't fuck me and I couldn't have that.
"You asshole," I muttered lowly, closing my eyes again.
"Tsk, tsk. Open your eyes and tell me what you need." A finger toyed with my soaking lips, sending chills up my body.
Groaning, I pleaded him with my eyes and the arch of my body.
"You," I whined, tears nearly springing to my eyes. I had never wanted sex more in my life, and I had never been more turned on.
He shook his head playfully. "You know what I want you to say."
I couldn't fight him anymore. I was too desperate. "Your cock."
Before I finished my statement, his large frame was on top of me and his rock-hard dick was pushing its way through my slick pussy. There was a delicious resistance, and after a few ruts he was blissfully inside me. We both screamed.
He grunted and groaned, whispering the filthiest words in my ear.
"Your pussy was made me for me."
"I can't wait to cum in you."
"I'm going to fill you up so much, cum's going to dribble out of you for days."
"I bet you've never been fucked like this. Get used to it. I'm going to fuck you every way imaginable... I'll have you scream my name like you don't know any other word."
He pounded away, the sloshing sounds of his pre-cum mixed with my own lubrication adding to the unbelievably hotness of the moment. Not to mention the way he looked into my eyes, like I was the only woman he'd ever fucked- which I knew was far from the truth.
"I want to fuck you all day," he told me, sucking my lobe. "I think I'm going to be hard for the rest of the day."
Then he couldn't speak anymore. Our hips slapped together, our sweat dripped down our bodies and mingled, and our tongues toyed with one another playfully. Our moans and desperate pleas filled the dark room, creating the most beautifully erotic soundtrack to our rough union. I knew I'd go home later and finger myself to the memory, and that thought made me feel dirtier and hornier than I'd already felt.
My hips arched up into his, feeling like I couldn't get enough of his cock inside me. He whined at the sensation and pushed deeply right back in. Cursing he picked up his pace, bending his head over to latch on to my nipple. He sucked it for a few minutes, murmuring nonsensical things into it and suddenly my vision blurred at the indescribable pleasure. I briefly wondered if he was fucking me blind, but all thoughts vanished after a particularly direction thrust.
His movements started growing sluggish and less focused; I knew the end was coming. Finally I felt his teeth bite down and I lost control of my body, coming in a way I never had before. It was almost painful. I didn't think it would ever stop. He let out a litany of curses and stopped thrusting, grinding deeply instead into my ready pussy. With one final curse he came, shooting an unbelievable amount of hot cum inside me in multiple bursts that made me wonder when he fucked last.
After we caught our breath and cooled down a little, he placed a heavy hand on my hip that was almost possessive. "Tomorrow," was all he said; I knew I'd show up.
And that's how I started screwing my sister's ex-husband.
+
I never liked my sister's husband.
First, he was a smug asshole. He thought he was gorgeous and charming; he also thought he could win over just about anybody. Fine, he was gorgeous and, begrudgingly I had to admit, quite charming. But I wasn't just "anybody". We had a tension between us that made me want to leave the room as soon as he entered. He was the kind of guy you never dated because you were worried he was always cheating on you, or at least thinking about it. He had thick rusty colored hair he never brushed and wet green eyes that shone with constant amusement. He thought everything was funny.
The real reason I disliked Patrick was the way he looked at me. It was like he could see straight through me. It sounds cliched, I know, but it's how I felt. I always put up a brave front for my family, tried to be the rock the desperate saps needed because they were so dysfunctional. They were all too sensitive, too vulnerable. They worried over everything, so I took care of them. When I caught him looking at me, it was like he could see how small and insecure and vulnerable I was myself and I didn't like it. I needed to be strong, and I so desperately needed people to think of me that way.
And then he loved to tease me.
"New boyfriend, Nina?" he asked one Sunday night he and my sister, Chloe, decided to visit.
Since he knew damn well it was a new boyfriend and I was trying to impress him by wearing my best red dress, I glared at him and gave him some murmured answer.
"So what's your name?" he'd asked the poor guy, who fiddled with his silverware nervously under Patrick's unnerving gaze.
I knew the feeling.
"Uh, Thomas."
"Thomas," Patrick said, nodding as if he were programming it into his head. "I'll try to remember but I'm terrible with names." There was a pause in which Thomas gave a polite nod and went back to his mashed potatoes. But Patrick, of course, was never polite, and I was already expecting some comment. He didn't disappoint. "Especially with Nina's track record. Last month it was John, tomorrow it'll probably be Rob. Good luck, Buddy." He gave Thomas a friendly smack on his shoulder and started cutting his steak.
Needless to say I never saw Thomas again.
My sister was married to Patrick for two years before she decided she couldn't handle it anymore. They had dated five years before they got hitched, and it seemed like they were officially sick of each other. He said she nagged him all the time; she resented the hours he put in at work. He didn't seem to care much about working out their problems, and his nonchalance over the situation made her throw things at him. Literally. That was kind of a funny sight, I have to be honest.
So he moved out- into my neighborhood of course. I saw him out constantly, and while he was never really with girls, I gave him the stank eye all the time because, hey, I was a loyal sister.
Or at least I used to be.
+
It happened as these things usually happen: I had too much tequila. It was a friend's birthday and, as these things go, she demanded I meet her shot for shot. So I did. I was getting out of a painful break-up and welcoming any and all things to end my pain, anyway.
The only faulty part of the plan, which I really should have seen coming, was that her boyfriend appeared at some point in the evening and the two vanished. Our other friends had disappeared and I was shit drunk. My cell was dead, my feet were killing me, and a glance in the bathroom mirror confirmed I looked like the living dead.
I stumbled outside, not quite sure what the hell I was going to do, when I ran right smack into my worst enemy.
'Whoa, there," Patrick laughed, raking his eyes over my alcohol-addled body. "You're a sight for sore eyes, kid."
"Fuck you," I muttered flatly, too tired to keep up with the usual snark. I spotted his friend Jeremy and Jeremy's girlfriend in the background, eyeing us with amusement.
"So what happened? Decided to come and get trashed by yourself? That's a little pathetic, even by your standards."
I put a hand up to my temple which was beginning to throb and stared at the spinning floor.
"Patrick, so help me God.