I woke up in nearly the same position, the only slight difference being I was completely inside of her.
She was awake, shifting slightly on my cock, letting out little moans as she rubbed her tits into my chest, her mouth hot on my neck.
It felt so good, but I needed to take her harder, needed to slam into her. I sat up, bounced her a few times with my hands on her hips, but it wasn’t enough.
I lifted her off, ignoring her rather loud protests. I set her on her back and got up.
I dragged her h*ps to the edge of the mattress, pulling her ankles up over my shoulders, and slammed into her. I shouted, she screamed, and I pulled out, then did it again.
And again. And again.
Fast and hard, I f**ked her rough, my head spinning with the pleasure by the end.
I held out until she came, but barely, and let go completely after that, pushing her legs up into her chest until I was jarring into her cervix.
She let out a little yelp, but I was finished, and I held myself there as I emptied hard into the deepest part of her.
I watched her eyes as I leaned down into her, both of us floating back from sweet oblivion.
She touched my cheek, her eyes telling me things I didn’t dare believe.
My heart tried to believe them anyway.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Five days after we parted ways in the casino, she showed up at my door in the middle of the night.
She was in a tigress of a mood, and I was in just the right kind of mood myself to indulge her.
“How long can you stay this time?” I asked, as I let her in.
She was already striding to the stairs, obviously heading straight for the bedroom. “Not as long as I’d like.”
It was a frustrating answer, but I knew just how I wanted to take out my frustration.
I was right on her tail as she made it into the room.
My hands went to the hem of my T-shirt.
She turned and stopped my hands with hers.
“Let me,” she pleaded, in a voice that brooked no refusal.
Of course, I complied.
She pulled just my arms out of my shirt, leaving the collar around my neck, pulling it taut, and wrapping it around her fist twice.
Cutting off just enough air to leave me slightly light-headed.
She slackened it almost instantly, stepping back and letting the material loose.
I reached for it, meaning to shrug it off, but she stopped me with a shake of her head.
I took off my pants instead. And my boxers.
I was fast, but she was faster, na**d and pressing against me the instant I caught up. She pushed me onto the chaise lounge near one of the room’s large windows, taking me down until I was lying on my back.
She mounted me, teasing her wet cleft over the length of my erection, sliding up it until she’d pinned it flush with my stomach.
I grunted and bucked up, jostling her. She barely budged, as she already had a hold of my shirt again, using it as a handle while she straddled me.
My hands went to her hips. I was all for fun and games, but I needed her cunt, the sooner the better.
She managed to distract me from my course, still sliding over me, not letting me in, sinking down until her pu**y was hugging my scrotum, until I could feel the wet heat of her on the most sensitive part of me.
Her free hand guided first one and then both of mine up to her tits. Only when I had a firm hold on each did she take me inside of her.
She rode me, using the shirt still wrapped my neck like reins.
I bucked up at her roughly, giving her a hell of a ride.
She shifted, and started working me at a different angle that had my eyes rolling back in my head and my balls tightening, getting ready to empty in seconds.
I held off until she orgasmed, barely, and then came deep inside of her.
She kept working my cock, even after, just moving on it like she never wanted to leave.
“You’re insatiable,” I told her, rubbing her thighs.
“Only for you,” she told me.
Hours later, sated, exhausted, I lay in bed, wide-awake.
Something was bothering me.
Enough that I couldn’t sleep, instead I just lay there, her soft blonde head on my chest, while the evidence circled.
In all fairness, it had been bothering me for a while, but somehow, that night, I just couldn’t stop thinking—obsessing about it.
Exhibit A: Something she’d said, months ago, but still, she’d said it.
The bit about, ‘Oh yeah, I’m twenty-four, right?’
Yeah, that bit. And the fact that she’d said something similar more than once.
Exhibit B: Turner’s theory that she was much younger than she claimed.
He’d seemed so sure.
Exhibit C: The fact that she refused to show me her ID again.
All of it was enough to have me worried, but the fact that I knew she made a habit of lying was the cement that had me taking action.
I slipped out of bed, slowly, carefully, so as not to disturb her.
I needed to check out her ID again.
Just to study it a little harder.
For peace of mind.
I could recall the big yellow purse she used left in the entryway. That’s what I needed to look at.
I padded quietly through the house in nothing but my boxers, thinking that my life had taken a very strange turn.
I grabbed the bag where it lay on the floor, opened it, and stopped.
I went into the nearest bathroom, shut and then locked the door. I felt like enough of a bastard for invading her privacy. The last thing I wanted was to get caught doing it and then have to explain why.
I found her little pink wallet, took out her ID, and studied it for a good five minutes, turning the lights to bright, tilting it this way and that.
It looked almost perfect, but there was one small flaw along the side of her picture. It was so tiny, so minuscule of a line, that it could have been nothing.
But it just happened to run the entire length of the picture.
I almost let it go, but some devil had me searching the rest of her bag. I checked every pocket, and came up with nothing out of place. Some hand sanitizer, tissues, her tiny neon bikini, and lots of makeup,
No credit cards, though there was plenty of cash. A ridiculous amount of cash, actually, but that was no surprise at this point, so I didn’t linger on it.
I’m not sure why, but I couldn’t seem to stop searching, going along the lining of her bag, feeling for some secret.
Turns out, I was right to be vigilant.
A thick, heavy bulge (maybe a large wallet?) was in the lining.
Sown in.
Going for broke, I ripped it.
It was not a wallet, but three passports and eight (I counted them three times) driver’s licenses were stacked into a sandwich sized Ziploc bag.
I just stood there and stared at them for the longest time, not believing that my paranoia had actually been leading me in the right direction.