It only takes a moment, just a mere second and I’m crashing over the edge. Yelling into the mattress, he forces my hips down against his mouth. He moves them forward and back when I can’t find the strength to move them myself. My body starts to slowly come down before I feel his hand at my ass. He spreads my cheeks, gathers my wetness and forces his finger inside my tight hole. Another orgasm rips through me stronger than the first. I try to pull away, try to escape. But he holds me against him with so much strength, I give in and swear I pass out for a moment before I start to feel myself come back to life.

“Fuck,” he grits out a moment later, as he pulls my body down flush with his own. “That, Darling, is my new favorite part.”

I let out a light laugh, breathless and still dazed from my orgasm and feel him kiss me. I taste myself on his lips and it causes a new kind of buzz to travel through my body. His lips are soaked with my flavor, and it makes my center throb as it lies to me, telling me I can handle more, that I want more, but I know there is no way I can take it from this Adonis tonight.

Suddenly, there is a loud pounding on the stairs. Boots climbing quickly. I look up to the far side of the room just as Peter glances over his shoulder. We scramble to our feet. Hurry to get dressed. Peter pulls on his jeans and I’m just about to slip my nightgown over my head when the door to my bedroom is kicked open.

“Well, well,” Jake sways in the doorway. “What do we have here?”

I was told he wouldn’t be back until next week. I was still hoping for some more time with Peter before he returned. Before he ruined everything.

Peter helps me pull the nightgown over my head and then quickly grabs my hand, pulling me to his side. Jake glares at him and takes a step forward.

“I heard you were back, Wendy,” he says with a tisk, taking another slow, calculated step into the room. “Thought we could pick up where we left off. See someone beat me to it.”

Peter instantly steps in front of me and stops Jake from coming any closer. “Men like you don’t deserve to live,” he seethes.

“And boys like you should have been killed in the womb, not allowed to be born to become someone else’s problem.”

A cry falls from my lips as I grip the back of Peter’s arm.

“Boys like me?” he questions with hatred.

Jake pulls a flask from his hip and takes a drink. Replacing the cap, the liquor gives him the courage to take another step forward. Peter tenses, and I freeze.