He's going to turn me inside out.

“You love this, fucking me. Your sister's boyfriend. Winning, right? Don't you think this kind of makes you a slut?” he asked, slowing his thrusts. She started panting again.

“Yes, I do,” she answered, and the hand on her chest slowly slid upwards, creeping onto her neck.

“Tatum O'Shea. Perfect, princess, goody-two-shoes, Tate. Who would've thought, a slut,” he swore at her. She moaned, raking her hands across her own chest. His fingers gently wrapped around her throat.

This shouldn't be turning me on. Why is this turning me on!?

“Yes, for you, Jameson. Just for you,” she moaned. His movements were so slow. He would almost pull all the way out of her, and then he would plunge back inside, to the hilt, so slow. It made it hard to breathe.

“Whenever I want,” he repeated his earlier statement. She rubbed her lips together and nodded again.

“Of course,” she sighed, and he let go of her throat.

It was almost like he was massaging her, on the inside. Only instead of relaxing her, it was causing her to tense up every muscle in her body. She was going to burst apart, completely explode, and no one would ever find Tatum again.

“Goddamn, you're so fucking sexy, Tate,” Jameson groaned, dragging his fingers up the insides of her thighs. She took a deep breath.

“Are we together?” she blurted out.

He stopped moving.

Uh oh.

“What?” he asked, his voice like steel. She let her head roll to the side and she opened her eyes, staring at the wall across from her.

“You're dumping Ellie. Does this mean we'll be together?” she asked.

He barked out a cruel laugh and then he was slamming in to her again. She cried out, her hands going to his chest, hooking her nails in to his muscles. He leaned down close, forcing her legs as wide apart as they could go, his chest pressed against hers.

“I don't date sluts, Tatum,” he told her.

“But I'm -,”

“A good fuck, yes. But Ellie is my girlfriend. I never said I was dumping her. And even if I did, I wouldn't date her sister. Wouldn't date some eighteen year old,” Jameson laughed in her ear.

“We have to stop, we have to stop, we have to stop,” she started moaning. Her brain was telling her one thing – get out, now, you stupid bitch! - but her body was going a completely different route – holy fuck, this amazing, don't ever stop doing this, why didn't you do this sooner, if you stop him now, you will never feel this way again!

“I don't think so,” he whispered, and then his hand was sliding between their bodies, his fingers pinching at the part of her that was aching the most.

She screamed. Her body felt like it was ripping up the middle. She had never had an orgasm like that before, not with Drew, not even with herself. She jerked forward off the bed and clamped her teeth onto his shoulder. He let out a roar and she could feel him coming as well. Every muscle he had tensed and pressed down onto her. Her orgasm intensified and she let out a sob. It took a moment for the tremors to subside, for both of their bodies to become still again.

“Holy shit,” Tate breathed, collapsing back onto the bed.

“Fuck. Fuck,” Jameson whispered, his breath hot against her skin as he rested his forehead on her chest.

They laid like that for a while, coming down from the high of good sex. Tate had never experienced it before – Drew wasn't good enough to induce it. Jameson had just blasted her in to the stratosphere. She didn't think she'd ever come down. She took deep breaths, trying to find herself in space. She rested her hand against his back, feeling his steamy slick skin.

“Did you -,” she started to ask in a thick voice, but he pulled away. He lurched off the bed, yanking his pants up as he went. She was a little shocked, and sat up, putting her bra to rights as she did so.

“Shut up. Don't say a fucking thing. Just get dressed,” he ordered, picking up the silk blouse from the other side of the bed and throwing it at her. She caught it as it landed over her face.

“How can you -,” she started when she was interrupted by a buzzing sound. They both froze for a second, and then Jameson made his way in to the living room. She heard him walk over to the door, assumed he was pressing the button for the intercom to the downstairs.

“What?” he asked, his voice rough and agitated sounding.

“I'm locked out down here, I forgot my keys. Buzz me in,” Ellie's voice filled the apartment.

Tate dropped her face in to her hands, the gravity of the situation falling down on her. She had just had sex with her sister's boyfriend. It was all fine and dandy to be caught up in the kink and sex of the moment – but the afterwards was horrible. She was a horrible person. Ellie was a mean sister, but Tatum was officially the worst.

“What are you doing? I suggest you get dressed,” Jameson's voice floated to her. She lifted her head to watch him walk across the bedroom and in to the bathroom.

“How can you be so calm!? After what we just did!?” she demanded. There was the sound of running water, then a toilet flushing, and then he reappeared, his pants done up.

“It's not a big deal unless you make it a big deal, Tate. Get dressed, or you're going to have a lot of explaining to do to your sister,” he said, pulling a shirt out of his closet and yanking it on. Tate struggled to push herself to her feet and pushed her skirt back in to place.

“I just had sex with you! We just had sex! We have to tell her!” she shouted at him.