Page 80 of The Good Girl Effect

I don’t want this to end. I want Jack St. Claire to lay claim to my body, bury himself inside me, and never leave. I want my body to be his home.

My back is pressed flat against the wall as his eyes find mine. Even in the nearly silent room, I hear his heavy breathing and quiet grunts, and I kiss them right off his lips. Our mouths are entangled as he continues to pound into me, the friction from his body sending me into another spell of heat and desire.

“N’arrête pas,” I murmur against his mouth. “N’arrête jamais.”

I don’t even realize I’m mumbling in French, begging him not to stop in a language he doesn’t even speak.

“I won’t,” he whispers in return, and my eyes pop open, staring at him in disbelief. Now is obviously not the time to ask him if he really does speak French, but I’m so struck by this revelation that I almost miss the goose bumps erupting on my skin and the torrent of sensation coursing through my body.

My back arches, and I cling to him tightly as it all becomes almost too much to handle.

He lets out a growl as he pulls out, staring down and panting. I’m still gasping for air as he sets my feet on the floor, kissing me hard on the mouth. My limbs are weak, and my body feels like ice melting into water.

But he’s not done with me yet. Spinning me around, he tugs my hips back and enters me again. I have to press my hands to the wall to keep myself upright as he thrusts fast, hitting new spots and making my body sing an entirely new tune. I can only hold on as Jack makes me feel things I’ve never felt before.

My free hand covers my mouth again because it’s all too intense. When I sense his body begin to tense and tighten, he quickly pulls out. A moment later, the warm jets of his cum land on my back.

When he’s done, he wraps a hand around my throat and pulls me upright, pressing my back to his chest and kissing me on the side of the neck.

“You are so perfect,” he whispers, moving his mouth to my ear and then my lips. “So perfect.”

Turning my head, I lean into him as I stare into his eyes. Our bodies are warm with a sheen of sweat, pressed up against each other as we gasp for air together.

I have never known sex to be so consuming. And I don’t want to think about anything but this moment. Not tomorrow or the next day. I don’t care about the consequences. I just want tosavor this feeling of being so close to him that it feels like we are one.

Jack disappears from behind me and goes into the bathroom. When he reappears a moment later, he has a warm, wet washcloth that he uses to clean my back.

After he’s done, he pulls me toward the bed. We both know we can’t sleep together here, but we can just lie together for a little while.

So as he drapes me over his chest, holding me close without saying a word, I know that’s all we’re doing, savoring a good moment for what it is—a moment.

Rule #27: Moms have all the answers.

Jack

Camille breathes quietly against my chest as I brush the soft curls from her face. For a while, I lose myself in gently stroking her back, feeling each vertebra of her spine under my fingers.

She’s fast asleep in my arms, and I am trying not to feel the creeping guilt and regret. Every moment with her is like a dream, and sex was no different.

After my wife died, I coped with bondage. It was a form of control—a way to busy my mind so I never had to feel pain. A distraction. I was convinced that if my body could still feel something good, then I wasn’t completely broken and lost to the world. And while there was always sex too, it was never about that. It was always about trying to manipulate and control what I could while my life felt so out of control.

But with Camille, it’s different. She gives me the control and the emotional connection. She lets me dominate her, but I swear she lets me feel so safe with her at the same time.

It wasn’t just physical pleasure tonight. It was a connection I haven’t felt since Em.

Stronger even.

And that only makes me feel worse. It’s only been two years since Em died. Isn’t it too soon to feel this way about someone else?

Would it be better if I fucked Camille and felt nothing at all? Like all the other women.

Either way, I’m an asshole.

Kissing her softly on the forehead, I roll her away and tuck her comfortably under the blankets. Then I climb out of her bed and dress quickly.

As I stand over her, watching her sleep, I get an idea. Turning to the desk, I pull a piece of paper from the stack and pick up the pen she has lying beside it. Quickly, I write out a message.

Little bird,