As I was walking away, I got my phone out, and saw that I had missed a call from Vivienne; my phone had been on silent, so there had been no ringtone. I called her back and was utterly shocked to hear that while I had been away, Simon had broken into her house.
"I'll be right there," I told her and sprinted out to my truck.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Vivienne
I did as they instructed, and then after they had determined that I was not the intruder, they sat down and asked me some questions while they wrote a report. They assured me they would have someone patrolling the area every thirty minutes and encouraged me to call if I suspected anything unusual.
As they were leaving, Everett returned my call. I told him what happened, and the tone of his voice when he promised me he was on his way was more than a little reassuring.
I sat in my kitchen waiting for him, drinking tea to try to calm my nerves and hearing every tiny sound. He arrived in 15 minutes, and I soon as I saw him, I ran to him. The moment his strong arms were around me, I felt safe.
"I'm so sorry I wasn't here to protect you," he said. "I should have been; I really should have been."
"It's not your fault, not at all," I said. "How could you have known? You had to be with your daughter."
"But he got inside the house! That bastard got in here!"
"It doesn't matter; it's over now. You're here, and I'm safe. I'm so glad you're here."
He looked into my eyes, fixing an intense gaze on me. "If he touches a single hair on your head, I'll tear him limb from limb. I mean that," he said, and I could tell he was serious.
"I feel so safe with you. Thank you," I said, and then I leaned forward and pressed my lips against his. The kiss started slow and gentle, but soon it became immensely passionate as we were both consumed with an almost voracious hunger for one another. All of the fear and panic that had been circulating now seemed to morph into a fiery passion, and at once I could feel an almost explosive arousal heating up my center.
I felt Everett's arousal too, pressing almost violently through his jeans as we kissed with an almost animalistic hunger; something intense had been awoken in him as well, although I wasn't sure what exactly it had been.
And then, right there in the kitchen, it began. Passion took over, and clothes hit the floor with furious eagerness, not caring if we ripped or tore the clothes in the process.
Soon his hands were on my ass, my breasts, squeezing and massaging with a voracious keenness, and his hunger for me drove a fury into my desire for him that verged on the manic.
I ripped his jeans down, and his manhood popped up, pointing skywards in the extreme hardness of its arousal. He slipped a hand between my thighs, massaging and moving rhythmically, working my hot, throbbing wetness. We were both gasping, breathing heavily, and my heart was hammering inside my ribcage like an overheated motor.
"I need you," I whispered into his ear, "I want you. Every part of you."
He swept his muscular arm across the kitchen table, shoving all of the contents to the floor with a crash. I was so turned on that I didn't care.
He picked me up and laid me down on the kitchen table, and spread my legs apart as he stood before me, his chest heaving with the intensity of his breathing and his powerful arousal.
The kitchen table was just the right height, and he stepped in closer as he fed his throbbing hardness into me. I was incredibly aroused, and the feelings of pleasure seemed to be amplified to an even greater degree by the urgency of the moment. Soon he was thrusting in and out, with every thrust of his hips, a fresh boost of bliss shot through me; the feeling of having him inside me, filling me so completely from this position, was exhilarating.
He soon began thrusting with an ever keener and almost ferocious vigor, and his broad, sculpted chest was soon glistening, and beads of sweat were running down his face. He gritted his teeth as he grunted, thrusting like a furious machine, and I felt boost after boost of pleasure ripping through my body with every expert motion of his hips. An orgasm was building, undeniably, like too much steam filling a pressurized container.
I gripped the edges of the table and ground myself against him, moving in time with him, feeling a burn in my thighs and hips as I struggled to match his movements and stay in the same rhythm as him.
The force of the orgasm was as if it were going to explode any moment – and it was going to be intense, I could just feel it.
"Oh, damn, that's so good, tha
t's so good, Everett," I moaned. "Don't stop, don't stop!"
Finally, it erupted, gushing through me, blasting sheer euphoria through every nerve-ending in my body, pulsating spasms of intense bliss through me. I cried out and shuddered as the powerful orgasm tore through every fiber of my being. He continued to push into me until he tensed and came as well, collapsing onto me and crying out loudly as the force of his own orgasm released.
We lay like that, on the kitchen table, panting, in a heated mess, for several blissful minutes, catching our breath.
And after a while, he kissed me softly, looked into my eyes.
"You're amazing," he murmured. "Absolutely amazing."