Page 35 of Say You'll Stay
“That’s it, my Cara Mia. Be a good girl and cum for me,” June demands, his voice hoarse with desire. “Let go and let me take you.”
And I do.
I let go of every last bit of control I have left, screaming his name as I come harder than I ever thought possible.
Still, June continues to thrust his fingers into me until the last shuddering wave has passed, leaving me panting and spent. I groan softly as his fingers slowly withdraw from the intimate space, my body still pulsing with the echoes of pleasure.
Then, June brushes his fingers against my lips, his gaze dark and intense as he looks down at me. “Damn,” he murmurs.
I struggle to steady my breath, my chest rising and falling rapidly as he leans in to capture my lips in a searing kiss. Our breaths meld in the cool night air, a symphony of heat and need as his tongue dances against my parted lips.
Fingers tangle in my hair, a gentle tug adding electricity to the already charged moment. Breaking away with a low groan, he extends a hand to help me up.
And like the greedy whore I am… my body already wants more of his touch.
“Get dressed,” June’s voice is rough with command as he assists me to my feet. “We’re just getting started.”
The thrill of pleasure and exhaustion swirls within me as I inhale deeply the crisp night breeze. I gaze at him quizzically, but all I receive in response is a smirk before he disappears into the shadows between the trees.
My heart races, unable to shake off the waves of desire pushing me further.
The fabric against my skin is both comforting and maddening, heightening my senses. Thoughts swirl in my mind, envisioning what thrilling escapade might unfold next.
It seems almost impossible for tonight to become any more intense than it already is.
Chapter fourteen
I stare at the computer screen, my fingers hovering over the keyboard, poised to sever the last thread connecting me to Cara’s world. With each keystroke, I’m erasing the silent, voyeuristic link that’s kept me tethered to her life - a twisted lifeline in the tempestuous sea of my existence without her.
There’s a sense of relief in this action, a recognition that I’m finally putting right what was inherently wrong. But the ache of loss is impossible to ignore. This digital window, as unhealthy as it was, has been my only connection to Cara.
I’m about to delete the final surveillance files when Scott bursts in, his presence more unsettling than comforting. My heart pounds, a silent prayer that Cara’s friendship with Louis is as innocent as she claims. But the nagging doubt persists, especially in the harsh light of the revelations I’m about to face.
“June,” Scott begins, his voice devoid of pleasantries, “I’ve got some new information on Cara and Louis.”
I lean forward, my pulse quickening. “What is it?”
“They’re spending a lot of time together outside of work,” Scott reveals, his tone clinical yet loaded. “And recently, while shadowing Cara, I overheard them discussing a trip. They’re planning to go out of town together, for a week or more.”
A week. The words echo in my mind, a relentless drumbeat. Jealousy, that toxic companion, grips me hard, painting vivid images of Cara and Louis, laughing, exploring, sharing intimate moments that should be mine.
Especially now, when Cara and I have finally crossed that line, blurring the boundaries between friendship and something more. The memory of her skin against mine, the taste of her lips, the sounds of our shared pleasure - it all comes rushing back, a tidal wave of sensations that leaves me reeling.
How can she plan a trip with another man, when just days ago, she was in my arms, begging me to erase every trace of my absence from her body and soul?
“Are you sure?” I demand, my voice strained, barely recognizing the possessive edge to my words.
Scott nods. “I confirmed it in Louis’ bank records. He paid for the tickets and a reservation at an Airbnb.”
I push away from the window, my anger barely masking the trembling in my limbs. The room suddenly feels too small, the walls closing in around me as the implications of Scott’s words sink in.
“Anything else?”
“That’s all I have for now, June. I’m sorry.”
“Thanks, Scott,” I manage, my voice hollow. He nods, casting me a sympathetic look before leaving, the door clicking shut behind him.
The deafening silence hangs like a vise around my throat as I sink into the buttery leather chair behind my desk. Its unyielding embrace is a cruel reminder that I am utterly and hopelessly alone in this hell of my own creation.