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I need her body to quiet them.

Zaiya makes a small sound against my lips when I capture her mouth. Surprise, first. Then confusion. She stiffens, trying to follow the switch inside me, from talking about family trauma to wanting sex.

I can’t explain it in a way that sounds sane. She’s the only thing that quiets the thoughts that make me want to end it all.

The bright melony floral scent clings to her skin, matching her young innocence that’s begun to crumble away. Mixed with her natural sweetness, it could get any man to believe in angels.

I breathe her in as I kiss down the elegant line of her throat, shoving down the urge to wrap my hand around it simply to prove I still have control.

Instead, I pull down the top of her dress, letting her heavy tits fall free. My hand kneads her soft flesh as it spills through my fingers.

Her little nipples are perfectly pink. Already excited for me before I pinch one to get that sweet yelp out of her. I don’t want to rush this, but instinct takes over. I push her back onto the pool table, light shining down on her, and my mouth goes right to her tits.

She still isn’t used to having her clothes off in unconventional places. I’m sure she’d much rather have me take her to bed. But she’ll learn to stop performing and just let go.

I shove up her dress and strip off her panties. I need her pussy around me. I need to bury my cock so deep inside her that nothing else exists.

She pulls her knees back, opening herself for me, plump lips glossy with her arousal. She bites her lip when I stare between her legs like I haven’t done it a dozen times already. Her discomfort is a mystery I’ll never understand. This pussy is fucking gorgeous. And I think she gets a thrill out of my inspection of it.

I run a finger down her slick lips, then spread them. She draws in a breath and squirms on the hard felt of the table.

“So wet for me.”

My thumb brushes against her clit and her pussy tightens. She’s unashamed to be needy.

“I want you to fuck me, Edwin.” Her voice is so soft, so sweet.

Under the spotlight, exposed for me, she’s letting more of her dirty side out. She knows exactly what to do to keep my mind occupied.

“Is that so?” I run my tongue across my teeth as I force myself to hold back. “Show me where.”

The torturous strain of my cock against my zipper sends blood pumping through me as I watch her.

Her brow furrows with momentary hesitation. Then her hand slides down her stomach and stops right above her pussy.

She forces herself to look up at me.

I shake my head.

“More. Show me exactly, Zaiya.”

Her tits come together with the sexiest cleavage as she takes a breath and leans forward. Those slender fingers move down further. She presses two inside herself. Her tight little hole stretches around them, and I lose what small amount of control I have left.

I unzip and shove a hand in my pants to pull my cock out. I give it a languid stroke as she works her fingers in her pussy.

Her eyes land right on what she wants. Then they drag up to meet mine, waiting for it. And who am I to deny her?

Zaiya has my heart.

But right now, she’s my escape.

I hook my arms under her knees and bring her to the edge of the pool table. My cock lines up with her dripping hole and I push in slowly.

She winces, and I can’t hide how much I love to see it. Proof she can take anything I give her.

My conscience tries to tell me she’s been through too much. I shouldn’t push her.

But I didn’t realize I had a conscience until I met her. I’ve always gotten by fine without it.