Closing Night High Ch. 02

"Shit, Em—did I hurt you? I can stop—" he begins to say, and he starts pulling out of me.

"Don't you fucking dare," I growl, and I quickly reach down and grab his hips to stop him. "I want this," I tell him and purposefully clamp my walls even tighter around him, showing him how much I mean that. He begins pulling out again, this time easing right back in before I can complain. "I want you, Caleb," I say and start rocking my hips again. "I need you. I lo—"

Fuck! Shut up, Emilie. New rule: No more talking while fuck-drunk.

Unfortunately, that little slip doesn't go unnoticed. Of course, my stupid mouth would ruin the most perfect moment of my life. He's so noble, I'm sure he'll stop this. I feel too much for him, too soon, and he won't want to mislead me into thinking he feels the same by continuing to fuck me.

Confirming my fear, he stills after pushing himself deep inside me. His fingers brush my wet hair from my face, his thumb caressing my cheek. My eyes land everywhere except on his face.

"Emilie, look at me. Please."

"I don't think I can," I tell him, honestly, watching as water trickles down his chest. God, that is a hot chest.

After one of his patented long pauses, Caleb grabs me by the chin and, almost roughly, forces my head up to bring my eyes level with his.

"I love you."

What?

"What?" I ask, clearly unable to filter my thoughts before they exit my mouth.

"I love you," he says again and starts fucking me—really fucking me—but not taking his eyes off mine.

My head is spinning, having just made the abrupt one-eighty from absolute fear to absolute joy. Caleb never would have said those words if they weren't the truth, so that means... Caleb Turner is in love with me. I don't really understand why or how, but right now, while he's inside me, I'm just going to roll with it.

Our eyes never leave each other as he pounds into me, testing the limits my cunt. He's so deep, hitting a spot I've never felt before. All I can think now—over and over—is that he loves me. He loves me. He loves me.

With that thought playing on repeat in my mind and the relentless ramming of his cock into me, the knot in my stomach tightens painfully. My walls start to convulse, until my body can't possibly take it anymore. I scream as pleasure erupts inside me. My eyes close tight as my cunt clenches and unclenches around his thick, solid shaft. My orgasm is so powerful, I feel like it's shaving ten years off my life. Or adding ten—I can't decide.

Through my own crazy climax, I can feel Caleb reaching his. He wraps me in his arms and buries himself as deep inside me as possible. His mouth is at my ear, and he's grunting as I start to feel him pulsing against my walls.

I didn't think it was possible, but I can actually feel him cumming inside me, pumping more and more of his semen into my depths.

This is bad. This is dangerous. This is so unfair to him. But—fuck—it's just too good! Like the sick pervert that I am, I'm imagining his seed doing to me what seed is supposed to do, and I go off again, impossibly harder than the first time.

"Fuck! You are so tight when you cum all over me," he says, enjoying the aftershocks of my climax. He begins sliding in and out of me again, some of his cum now leaking out around his dick. I hate to lose a drop—selfish bitch that I am—but seeing it making a mess all over his cock and my pussy is a fucking glorious thing. We're still riding out or orgasms, when I begin trembling in his arms. To hide the fresh tears that are streaming down my face, I kiss him, deeply and passionately.

My limbs are too weak to cling to him anymore, and I go limp. He lifts me a little higher, letting his cock slide out of me. I feel more cum spilling out and dripping down my thighs as he sets me on my feet, holding me upright. He leans me back against the wall, lathers up the washcloth, and starts cleaning all the sex off us both, pausing now and then to kiss me.

Once we're done in the shower and he's toweled me dry, he scoops me up and brings me to his bedroom. After putting me back down, he grabs a black t-shirt from a drawer and slips it over my head. It's that shirt—the one from last night. This thing is totally coming home with me this time.

Oo! Before I forget—

"I love you, too, Caleb."

He chuckles at me, and it's such a happy sound. Did I mention how much I love a happy Caleb?

"Crazy as it is, I believe you, Em," he tells me, before kissing my lips softly. "Now, you need to lie down. You look like you're about to pass out," he says and guides me to his big, comfy-looking bed. Speaking of beds...

"So, what happened to 'When I fuck you for the first time, it'll be in a bed'?" I tease, doing my best impersonation of him. "We ended up doing it in a bathroom, after all!"

"Fine. Bathrooms are perfectly acceptable places to make love. Just not public ones that are covered in other people's piss."

He's got a point, there. "Agreed."

I lie down on the bed, and he crawls over me, still naked and semi-hard.

"Are you hungry?" he asks before groping one of my tits and sucking my nipple into his mouth. I nod an enthusiastic yes, and he smiles down at me. "Good, because I'm starving. You took a lot out of me, little girl." The awe in his eyes as he looks down at me makes my entire body hum with delight.

"Oh, really? Felt to me like you were freely giving it up."

"And I can't wait to give it again, as many times as your body can handle it. But first, I'm going to run out and grab us some food. Will you be ok by yourself for a while?"

"I'll be fine," I tell him, suddenly feeling very tired. "Go, get foods, come back. K?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Uh-uh. I liked 'little girl' better, old man."

He laughs as he climbs off of me, then puts on some clothes. I guess he needs those if he wants to go out without getting arrested, but they are so coming back off the second he walks back through that door.

As he goes to leave the room, he turns around and tells me, "I love you, babe."

I'm really going to enjoy hearing that all the time. Hopefully he likes hearing it just as much, because I plan to say it every chance I get.

"I love you, too."

And, before he even walks out the door, I fall fast asleep.

* * * * *

My body might be exhausted, but my brain is in overdrive, and it doesn't let me sleep more than a few minutes. When I get up and look out the window, his car's not in the driveway, so he must still be out getting us some well-earned sustenance. My mouth is super dry, so I head to the kitchen for a glass of water. Once I'm hydrated, I hunt down my purse and pull out my phone to text Eric.

soooooo much to tell! hope your date is as hot as mine!

He doesn't respond right away, like he usually does, so he must be a bit preoccupied. Go, Eric!

I decide to check my mail. As I'm scrolling through a bunch of promotional shit from stores I stupidly gave my email to, I come across a suspicious-looking address—anon@yourescrewed.com. That doesn't look promising. I open up the message and read the heart-stopping words.

Cinderella,

I hope you enjoy tonight, because it's the last you're ever going to spend with him.

Dump him tomorrow, or everyone will get to see what I saw.

And remember—

MINE.

Holy shit. Is this the person who left Caleb's office door open? It has to be.

There's a video attached. I stare at the little paperclip icon for a full five minutes, trying to gather the strength to tap it. In a fleeting moment of courage, I finally open it up.

Oh, god.

I run to the kitchen sink, and if I had anything in my stomach, I'd be throwing it all up right now. I quickly clean myself up, because I need to force myself to watch the video all the way through.

It's a clear shot of me and Caleb, taken through the cracked-open door. Remember how I thought that, to anyone watching us, it would look like we were fucking? How horrifyingly right I was.

Unable to stop, now, I watch the video and read the email over and over. My eyes are red from lots of hard, ugly crying, when Caleb walks through the door, smiling and holding bags of Chinese take-out. But as soon as he sees my face, he drops the bags and hurries over to where I'm sitting on the floor.

He cups my tear-stained face and asks, "Emilie, what's wrong? What happened? Are you ok?" He's frantically looking me over, trying to see if I'm hurt.

"No, Caleb, I'm not ok. You're not ok." I thrust my phone in his direction. He takes it, and I watch his expression go blank and his lips turn white as he watches the video.

Yep—my thoughts, exactly.