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I sling my free arm around his neck—the one with blood dripping down my knuckles—and press him forward until we’re nose to nose.
“What do I need, jackass?” The thrumming in my body knows the answer. The flush that settles over my cheeks and down my chest. My heaving breaths and the throbbing between my legs.
Corvin is the last person I should want. I should rip away and go find some random person to fuck, but there’s no fight in me.
The way those green eyes consume me, if I give in, he’ll take what he wants.
Give me what I need.
He jams his knee up between my thighs, somehow gentle and forceful at the same time. Thank god I didn’t feel like fucking with my packer today because the direct contact to my dick is like lightning in a goddamn bottle.
I gasp and dig my fingers into his skull, baring down like pressure alone is enough to light me up. When my nerves are this bundled it might as well be.
Corvin’s mouth hovers over mine, smearing blood on my chin and the corner of my lips.
“To fuck your pretty little dick on me like the horny firecracker you are.”
I tighten my arm around his neck and force his lips on mine. It’s a rough collision that makes him grunt against my mouth, but then he’s slipping his tongue inside and slapping a hand on the swell of my ass to get me in motion.
I’m only a little mortified that it works.
He angles his thigh for better friction, and I can’t even pretend I’m not grinding on him like a lust drunk whore. It’s torture to force my hips to stop—dick throbbing in protest—just so he’ll smack me to stir me back into motion.
The sting sets off fireworks behind my eyes, ramping my desire past the point of rational thought.
Both of my hands are free now, but all I want to do is sink my fingers into Corvin’s short, coiled hair and tug at the roots with a frantic aggression.
The harder I pull, the closer he presses me to the wall, and the more frequent his hand lands on my ass.
When skin breaks beneath my fingertips, he presses his palm to my throat with just enough pressure to make me gasp. To make my legs shake and my hips chase the fire roaring in my veins.
“I can take it, Shiloh. Give it to me.” He breathes the words into my open mouth, rucking up his shirt and guiding my hands to his exposed skin. “Make me bleed, and I’ll make you scream.”
I take the invitation like it’s a command. I’m clinging and digging into him like grappling hooks on a rocky mountainside, and I’m working my hips like someone riding one of those mechanical bulls. Chasing the high of a release like I’d chase the bottom of a bottle.
“Good boy.” His lips slide down my neck as he increases the pressure between my legs, practically fucking my dick with his thigh and pinning me to the wall like I’m his fucktoy and not the other way around.
Without my mouth occupied, I can’t stop the desperate noises from escaping. When he latches onto my neck, the moan that comes out is broken and wrecked. It doesn’t even sound like me.
“Let go, sweetheart. Give me the anger. Let it out.”
Dammit, dammit, dammit.
Damn him.
Why does he have to know about the anger eating me alive? Why does he have to be the one to offer me relief?
Why do I want it from him more than I want it from anyone?
Almost anyone.
I wrap my hands around his shoulders and bury my face in his neck. It feels like he’s fucking me. The way he’s grinding his thigh over my cock, and the way my hips chase the motion. I’ve never been fucked—not that I remember, at least—but I can that imagine this need, this desperation is somewhere along those lines.
It hits me like a gut punch, and if Corvin weren’t holding me still, I’d crumble. I clamp down on the soft spot between his shoulder and neck to muffle the cry as my body shakes and shudders through release, and he keeps me steady all the while.
He doesn’t torture me with prolonged touches, panting and groaning into my ear as he grips a handful of my ass in one hand and clasps the back of my neck with the other.
I know that I should shove him away, bark at him not to touch me and call him an asshole for good measure. But that heat leaks out of me like the wetness clinging my boxers to my legs.
