him more. As my need quivered away inside of me, as I rocked uncontrollably, my face flushing with the effort, I held nothing back, knowing how much he liked that.
When I went to utter words that would send him over the edge as well, I lost my ability to form them. Bold, determined, as I throbbed inside, my inner walls grabbing for him greedily as he moved in and out of me, I found myself in a state of frenzy I’d never reached before. I pumped my hips now, meeting him move for move, grabbing at his body as he grabbed at mine. His heavy hands held on, held me in place, as my fingers latched on, as much digging in as holding on, a reflex and preservation instinct.
Just as we were about to fall over the precipice a loud noise like something had hit the side of the house interrupted us, giving us a jolt of our bodies against each other. My racing heart had skipped a beat, and I’d cried out at the way he’d grabbed onto me tighter without thinking, protecting me.
“I’m sorry,” he grumbled, as we froze in our movement. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. What the hell is that now?”
“It’s fine. Listen,” I prompted, needing this to be some drunk guy having fallen down, or some neighbors in a domestic scuffle so we could resume our activities.
All we heard at first was everyone outside of the bathroom grow silent as a few scurried around. Voices murmured as a door slammed open. I felt my inner walls contract around him, his cock jolt in response inside of me as my body did not get the pause. A slur of curse words were the first thing we could make out in Nira’s voice.
Pushing away from each other, we scrambled to get dressed and get back out into the living room. By the time we got there, we pushed through the tight crowd to see Nira holding a box. The heavy, wooden square had a nice dent in the side corner from being launched against something. By the looks of things, the door specifically as it was open, and the nice hole in the front of it, the box had hit the front door, been thrown against it hard, by someone not merely human. Josh threw his body against the hollow plastic door, closing it, using his more stable frame to keep whatever threw the box outside.
As Nira moved the box around, checking it out, I noticed that it was not detailed in any way. With no engravings or anything by way of decoration, this was a small, rough wooden box with two rusty hinges on the back. They gave a small whine of protest as Nira cautiously opened the top. I stood rigid beside Lex, who had his hand on my back, as we waited to see what was inside. Basically, we waited for the next shoe to drop. Whatever the message inside, I feared it not good, just given the delivery, the night. As a rule, good news people offered up orally, easily, bad news traveled in other more sinister, sometimes more elusive ways, like nondescript wooden boxes hurled at a door.
They’d found us, discovered our safe house. I looked around wondering if the box’s only purpose stood as a ploy to distract us while they blew up the house. From the distance I stood from Nira, I could see something that looked like a necklace being pulled out and hung from her fingers. Not a distraction, but a message. I hoped that someone here got it. My friend then turned to look at me, giving me a concerned and confused look that matched mine. My stomach dropped to know instantly that this had something to do with me by the soft, sad eyes under furrowed brows on Nira’s tight face.
“The note attached to this necklace only says, ‘For Christina,’” Nira muttered, slowly stretching out her hand towards me, making the necklace dangle there like an ominous warning, not the waving of a white flag, but just the opposite, the threat of something bad to come flickering in the distance, not yet clear but grave.
I pushed through the crowd who was trying to get out of my way. They had tried to part like the Red Sea, but the tiny room,
When I went to utter words that would send him over the edge as well, I lost my ability to form them. Bold, determined, as I throbbed inside, my inner walls grabbing for him greedily as he moved in and out of me, I found myself in a state of frenzy I’d never reached before. I pumped my hips now, meeting him move for move, grabbing at his body as he grabbed at mine. His heavy hands held on, held me in place, as my fingers latched on, as much digging in as holding on, a reflex and preservation instinct.
Just as we were about to fall over the precipice a loud noise like something had hit the side of the house interrupted us, giving us a jolt of our bodies against each other. My racing heart had skipped a beat, and I’d cried out at the way he’d grabbed onto me tighter without thinking, protecting me.
“I’m sorry,” he grumbled, as we froze in our movement. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. What the hell is that now?”
“It’s fine. Listen,” I prompted, needing this to be some drunk guy having fallen down, or some neighbors in a domestic scuffle so we could resume our activities.
All we heard at first was everyone outside of the bathroom grow silent as a few scurried around. Voices murmured as a door slammed open. I felt my inner walls contract around him, his cock jolt in response inside of me as my body did not get the pause. A slur of curse words were the first thing we could make out in Nira’s voice.
Pushing away from each other, we scrambled to get dressed and get back out into the living room. By the time we got there, we pushed through the tight crowd to see Nira holding a box. The heavy, wooden square had a nice dent in the side corner from being launched against something. By the looks of things, the door specifically as it was open, and the nice hole in the front of it, the box had hit the front door, been thrown against it hard, by someone not merely human. Josh threw his body against the hollow plastic door, closing it, using his more stable frame to keep whatever threw the box outside.
As Nira moved the box around, checking it out, I noticed that it was not detailed in any way. With no engravings or anything by way of decoration, this was a small, rough wooden box with two rusty hinges on the back. They gave a small whine of protest as Nira cautiously opened the top. I stood rigid beside Lex, who had his hand on my back, as we waited to see what was inside. Basically, we waited for the next shoe to drop. Whatever the message inside, I feared it not good, just given the delivery, the night. As a rule, good news people offered up orally, easily, bad news traveled in other more sinister, sometimes more elusive ways, like nondescript wooden boxes hurled at a door.
They’d found us, discovered our safe house. I looked around wondering if the box’s only purpose stood as a ploy to distract us while they blew up the house. From the distance I stood from Nira, I could see something that looked like a necklace being pulled out and hung from her fingers. Not a distraction, but a message. I hoped that someone here got it. My friend then turned to look at me, giving me a concerned and confused look that matched mine. My stomach dropped to know instantly that this had something to do with me by the soft, sad eyes under furrowed brows on Nira’s tight face.
“The note attached to this necklace only says, ‘For Christina,’” Nira muttered, slowly stretching out her hand towards me, making the necklace dangle there like an ominous warning, not the waving of a white flag, but just the opposite, the threat of something bad to come flickering in the distance, not yet clear but grave.
I pushed through the crowd who was trying to get out of my way. They had tried to part like the Red Sea, but the tiny room,
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