Page 32 of Untouchable
Tearing the packet open, Caleb rolled on the condom. A lubricated one.
He positioned himself between her legs again and felt at the juncture between her thighs, his hands brushing over her pussy. Kelly moaned and pumped her hips when he pressed his fingertips into her clit, and she continued moving her pelvis so that he couldn’t explore much farther. “Please. I don’t want to wait anymore.”
He leaned down and kissed her, his tongue sliding along the line of her lips. And Kelly suddenly wanted to gag. He was a good kisser. An excellent kisser. His body was attractive, and he knew exactly what he was doing.
But all she could think about was her father’s face, that day they’d been hiking in the woods. She’d never seen him again, not alive anyway, and Caleb was responsible for that.
Pulling out of the kiss again, Kelly whimpered. Hopefully it would sound like pleasure more than reluctance.
“You want this?”
She’d already answered that damned question. More than once. Why wouldn’t he just shut up and fuck her?
“Yeah,” she whispered. Then, needing to distance herself in any way she could, she started to roll over onto her stomach, deciding rear entry would be easier psychologically and thus be much more comfortable. She wouldn’t have to look at his face.
But Caleb stopped her before she could turn over, holding his hands on her shoulders. “Kelly?”
Swallowing hard, she tilted onto her side again and murmured, “I was going to let you…”
“No,” he replied softly, pushing her down onto her back with the position of his body. Then he brought his hands down to part her legs and line up his cock at her entrance. “This is good.”
With a sigh, Kelly submitted to the position and clutched at his shoulders. Forced her muscles to relax. Then closed her eyes and jerked her head to the side as Caleb started to sink inside her.
It wasn’t uncomfortable. She was somewhat aroused, and the condom was lubed. The substance of his cock pushed into her easily, and her body automatically accommodated itself to his size.
But she had a hard time distancing herself appropriately.
She’d never been a big fan of missionary since the man fucking her was right there, right in her face, and touching her everywhere. In her plans for this moment, Caleb had always been taking her from behind in a way that wouldn’t demand of her to think of him as a man. This… was more difficult.
She moaned again, because she knew she needed to keep up her performance, but she mostly concentrated on breathing deeply and keeping her stomach from churning.
“Fuck,” Caleb breathed, his mouth so close to her skin that his breath wafted across the side of her face.
She hated the sound of the raspy exclamation, but it was a good sign. He liked how she felt. So, remembering the details she’d planned earlier, Kelly started writhing beneath him, bucking up her hips as if she were desperate for the stroke of his cock. “Caleb,” she panted. “Caleb, please.”
He made a strange grunt and held himself perfectly still. And she knew he was staring at her face or her body because she could feel his eyes burning into her skin.
She arched up and then wrapped her legs around him in a way she knew men really enjoyed. She squeezed her muscles as she thrust her pelvis, riding him from below.
Caleb groaned again—long, low, and desperate. “Fuck, you’re incredible.”
She opened her eyes at that, felt like she had to. This was important. She needed to appear more enthusiastic. She kept her voice husky and overwhelmed as she whispered, “So are you.” She bucked up erratically a few times. “Please, Caleb, fuck me.”
He straightened his arms, raising his upper body higher—a move that Kelly greatly appreciated. He was farther away. She couldn’t feel his breath or see the little lines beside his mouth and eyes. She breathed a little easier and stretched with a lingering groan, partly for effect and partly to clear the remnants of her panic.
Caleb pulled his pelvis back, until just the tip of his cock was left in her body. The muscles in his arm rippling tightly, he thrust back into her, levering his hips up as he drove forward.
Under different circumstances, Kelly probably could have enjoyed it, but there was absolutely no way she was going to reach orgasm tonight. But she knew how to act. She arched back her neck and gasped loudly at the stroke of his cock.
He pulled back again. Thrust forward. Levered up. Kelly dug her fingers into the hard muscles of his biceps as if she were clutching at him in urgent response.
She continued moving her body restlessly, squirming beneath him, pumping up against his thrusts, tossing her head back and forth on the pillow. But she kept her vocal response intentionally subdued.
Caleb wouldn’t be convinced by screams and howls of pleasure. So Kelly bit her lip as if she were trying to contain her response to the sensations he was generating. As he fucked her, she twisted her face more and more. It probably looked like pleasure—she was pretty confident that it would—but it was mostly part of the performance, and a little bit from the horrifying realization that this was Caleb Marshall inside her.
The same Caleb Marshall who had killed her father.
After a few minutes of his slow, steady strokes—strong, controlled, and designed to give pleasure—Kelly made a stifled mewling sound and tightened her thighs around his hips. Deciding she had looked up at him for long enough, she turned her head to the side and squeezed her eyes closed, contorting her face as she whimpered again.
