Any impulse I have to protect her, any hope that I can get out of this unscathed evaporates. I stroke her hair and praise her as she learns what makes me groan. “You’re so beautiful. So sweet. So good. Don’t stop, sweetheart. I’m dying here. I’m dying for you.”

Then I lose the ability to speak. She looks up at me with those dark doe eyes. The climax rises out of the base of my spine. It spreads through my entire body like an electric shock. I stifle a yell as I hold on to her hair, tight, too tight, needing the connection to her as I come.

I’m panting, out of breath as she releases my cock.

Need heats her dark brown eyes, making them molten. Someone needs to come. There’s a million ways I could make her come. With my fingers. With my mouth. In a few minutes to recover, with my cock. All of those feel too intimate at the moment. Too emotional. I’m already exposed. I fist her hair and make her look at me. She pleads with a soft whimper.

I shove my shoe between her knees. “Ride it.”

There’s a moment of shock. Indecision. She wonders if I’m pushing her too far. I wonder the same damn thing. And then she lowers herself onto my shoe. I’m wearing old black oxfords, the leather worn and cracked. Her pussy rubs against it, slick and sensitive. Reaction flares in her expression. Her desire soaks into the fabric laces. She’s too hesitant, so I nudge her with my knee. It’s just enough humiliation to make her cheeks heat and her hips buck.

“Please,” she mumbles.

I tighten my grip in her hair and guide her, faster and faster, harder and harder, until her eyes squeeze shut and tears leak down her cheeks and a sharp cry escapes her as she comes.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Jane Mendoza

There’s a woman who looks like Paige all grown up.

She’s wearing a soft blue dress, long sleeves and long skirt that flares at the bottom into a white fabric with tiny red flowers. Her hair is down, curls moving in the breeze. The cliff rises to meet her. The sun beams down on her. The entire Maine coast seems to embrace this woman, but I’m watching from behind cold panes of glass. There’s no light in the house. Only darkness.

I open my eyes and stare at the silent room.

Something compels me out of bed. A sound? Did Paige have another nightmare? It might have woken me up, though I don’t remember hearing anything.

The woman. The woman in my dream.

That must have been what Paige’s mother looked like.