Page 139 of Ewan

He fooled me for a while, and I think he was honest.

He has a moral compass. Maybe it’s not working all the time, but he has it.

But this, what he has done to me tonight, is more than I expected.

I’ve seen all kinds of men in my life, and some were better than others. Some were easier to live with than others. Some were more obnoxious than others.

But I’ve never met someone so raw and primal under their polished shell.

The time I spent with him felt like an ongoing battle for gettingwhat he wanted. And he got what he wanted.

He wanted to fuck me from behind and did it despite my arguments against it.

My dislike for that had stemmed from an incident too personal and distasteful to be shared with him.

I had never had much experience with this until one day, my ex started to talk about it, hoping to spark my interest.

I was suspicious since he’d never been the sexually adventurous type, the domineering kind wanting to fuck someone from behind.

I said no to him that day, and then I overheard him talk to one of his good friends. They were talking about porn.

Now, I’m not a prude. I think I’ve put that suspicion to rest tonight. But I didn’t like that it wasn’t even his idea.

He was talking more about this stuff with his friend than me.

And then, he was truly not the type.

The thought that he’d be having total control over me and screwing it, most like losing his erection and then not being able to get it up and blaming it on me?

No, thank you.

But Ewan did it, removing that block from my head, and after making me come against the wall, he dragged me back to the bed.

I had zero time to rebound, and I was a mess between my legs when he got hard again and tossed me on the bed.

Face down.

I pulled upright, and he grabbed my hips and brought me close to him. Standing next to the bed with me bowed down––only the cuffs were missing and me being tied to the headboard––he pushed the chiseled head of his erection inside me.

I didn’t think I could take more of him. More hard thrusts, more painful grips on my body, more shudders, more tension. More mind-blowing pleasure.

I thought I was too tired, and he wouldn’t be able to make me go up again.

Boy, was I wrong?

My bones still hurt, and I think I pulled a muscle from having my legs spread open. It was nasty. Dirty nasty.

I smile.

My grin is calm and peaceful and lined with satisfaction.

We had a good night.

Forget about the money, going back and forth with that club manager, and facing Mrs. Eisenhower’s scrutiny.

I hope I won’t end up like her.

What’s her problem? She can’t sleep? Is she worried I won’t get married again if I meet men like Ewan?

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