Indulge: Second Chance Romance

19 – Hurt So Good

Ellie



After last night, there was no reason I should have been this needy—but somehow, the soreness only made me more sensitive. Every ache heightened my nerves until the thought of his touch had me trembling.

I was already back to kissing him and dropping to my knees in instant submission for DJ to slide in like the missing piece of me.

I shouldn’t have had another orgasm in me.

Honestly, those few days should have filled the quota of orgasms for at least one lifetime. Maybe three.

Not that I would ever complain about it or let him in on that little secret.

Not when his hand pinned my wrists and the other cupped my throat, forcing me to watch as his thick c**k sank deep inside.

I fought the instinct to roll my eyes back in ecstasy.

“I said watch, Dove,” DJ groaned with a vicious snap of his hips, grinding hard against my clit. There was no pullback that time.

No tease. No apology. Only raw possession as I convulsed shamelessly around him.

My eyes stayed fixed between our bodies, but I couldn’t see anything—just stars, just the blinding white of pleasure. The tremors that wracked me didn’t fade. They only grew sharper, more insistent, the harder he drove into me.

The immediate pull of my back, making me straddle him and pressing us chest to chest, only pushed him impossibly deeper inside me.

“You forgot something,” DJ tsked.

No matter how dark his voice, how sharp his stinging slap to my ass, his grin was fire. Warm as it was affirming that he was getting just as much out of the new sensational act as me.

I might have been on top, but DJ was in absolute control. One strong arm lifted and dropped my waist at will, his free hand striking until the cracks of sound blurred into my cries. I shattered again, screaming as much of his name as my bursting body would allow me.

His fingers returned to the exotic grip of my hair that lit up every nerve ending even more as he kissed me.

“Again, Dove…” DJ growled against my neck, letting me feel that wolfish grin of victory when I all but collapsed against his chest with my whole body practically seizing.

He waited until I almost fell to the mattress before re-securing his grip on my waist and adding, “One more, Dove.” He urged with a nip to my neck.

“Give me one more, and I’ll fill you up with my cum.”

I was already so full I wanted to burst. So spent, keeping my eyes open was a challenge, but with the idea of his hot c*m pulsing inside of me completing my own orgasm…

Defiance. Desperation. Devotion. Delirium…?

DJ.

Just DJ pushed me past my every physical limit, and damn if I wasn’t going to feel him do the same inside me.

The hypnotic flex of his jaw, the steel of his shoulders beneath my nails—everything about him dragged me further into the fire. I ground against him in desperation, every ounce of me begging despite the soreness that bordered on painful.

The line between pleasure and torment blurred until they were the same exquisite thing.

It hurt. God, it hurt. But in the most decadent, addictive way imaginable. He was everything I had never dared to dream of, and I couldn’t deny him anything.

The final build came like a burst dam, flooding me until I was limp, boneless, nothing but a body unraveling in his arms.

DJ took over, pounding through the starburst of my orgasm until he broke apart too, surging deep with a guttural sound that vibrated through my chest. His climax ripped through me like an earthquake, leaving every nerve singing, every muscle trembling.

A knock at the door pulled him away, while I collapsed back against the sheets, panting and writhing through the aftershocks.

“Come on, Dove.”

I groaned, and he chuckled at me. “I’ll keep my hands to myself, but we need to get you clean.”

He hauled me up, carried me into the shower, and guided me through as much of my routine as I could manage. For the first time since meeting him, I winced when he soaped certain parts of me—but then melted when his fingers worked shampoo through my hair.

Sitting in his lap under the steam felt better than any professional wash. His chest was a hot wall at my back, every rise and fall of his breath brushing along my skin like its own kind of caress.

When we came out, I was met with coffee and breakfast in bed. DJ was back to being sweet, endearing, so attentive my teeth ached from it. Full, beyond satisfied, I thought about canceling my appointments altogether and just burrowing into his mattress.

He only chuckled at the sight of me sprawled, half-dead, from what he had done to me. How on earth was he still standing?

“Time for your massage, baby.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“Professional, Dove.” He smoothed my damp hair, pressing a kiss to my temple. “You’re right—I could never touch you that long without doing something.” My growl only made him laugh harder, the sound warm and infuriating all at once.

The masseuse’s oil filled my nose, her deep rotations unlocking tension I hadn’t known I carried. While my body felt like jelly, she found knots like rocks under my skin. Unlike many deep-tissue methods, her touch was as effective as it was pleasant, easing whenever I flinched.

I was sure at certain points her hands were strong enough to squeeze me like the oranges they juiced to get a cocktail that sweet, but anytime I so much as held my breath, her pressure eased.

Drifting between consciousness and sleep, that warm fuzzy place where I wasn’t sure whether I was asleep or awake, was as magical as the rest. Regardless of the bill I might get, I patted myself on the back for taking a chance.

I couldn’t say I had avoided new experiences as a whole. Mom had always said if I never tried anything new, I’d never get the joy of having a favorite anything. Still, I had generally been all about structure. Regiment. Routine.

Doing what I did simply couldn’t be done without checklists, if not spreadsheets.

I didn’t think there was an itinerary in existence that would have covered what I had experienced with DJ over the last couple of days. It truly was that once-in-a-lifetime thing that people read about or subconsciously waited for to happen.

It wasn’t just about Ben, but Daniel too.

The guilt I had felt in how we struggled at times, and me wondering if our relationship would have made it if I hadn’t lost him. I also hated to remember how desperate I had been with Ben.

Feeling like his lack of interest had been my own shortcomings.

Romantically, I had been a mess since before Danny was born, and while I knew that this was temporary—more or less a fantasy—it was a reminder, actually a realization, of what I had been missing for so long.

Maybe that was stupid.

Foolish.

I mean, DJ and I wouldn’t ever have real love or move past the honeymoon stage where everything was perfect. So it seemed ridiculous to be thinking that once I got myself together, I should find a guy like him to settle down with.

Maybe I had struggled so long because, in essence, I was a soldier’s daughter.

Taught that if I wanted anything, I worked for it, and that I should never need a man or anyone else to take care of me. I had been raised to be independent, self-sufficient, and capable of seeing myself through any situation with or without my family’s support.

I supposed there was a difference between want and need.

I told myself that as long as it was a want—an indulgence—that wasn’t the same as being codependent, like my father had often accused my mother and me of being.

These thoughts were entirely too heavy for the light atmosphere.

The ocean breeze, enchanting music, and moan-worthy caresses unleashing my tension were what I should have been focused on.

But I finally allowed myself to admit that it was taking most of my brainpower to remember that this was temporary. Only a vacation. An arrangement he had made with more than one woman.

Because with each passing minute, it was the realest thing I had ever experienced.