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Oh, God.
I wanted.
“I want you to fuck me hard,” I admitted without hesitation.
Before I could even suck in a breath, he was slamming into me- hard, uncontrolled.
I’d had rough sex before, but it had never felt quite like this- so raw, primal.
His palm landed down hard on my ass cheek, the pain like a spark at the contact then a dull throbbing but before the throbbing even subsided, his hand was hitting another spot, over and over, building the pressure low in my belly, making my pussy clench hard around his cock.
“Oh my God,” I groaned, closing my eyes, focusing on the orgasm that threatened to rip me apart.
Suddenly the slapping stopped and his arm went around my lower belly, pressing in hard, making me feel him all the more intensely. Then he used that leverage to yank me backward hard as he slammed forward with what seemed like all the force in his body, making me take him as deep as my body would allow. So deep that I heard myself yelp at the pinching sensation that was part pain, but so hot that my moans quickly became more like screams and I did nothing to try to control them.
“Come,” he demanded, his voice pure gravel and barely contained. “Let me feel your tight cunt milking my cock.”
His cock slammed forward.
And I came.
Crashed.
So hard, my voice got caught on a strangled cry of his name.
So hard, my pussy felt like it was never going to stop spasming.
So hard, that every time he thrust forward through it, he brought on yet another wave of pleasure.
And my legs gave out.
Gave. The. Fuck. Out.
His arm tightened around my belly, holding up as he thrust into me a couple more times before his body stiffened and he came on a loud hiss, his forehead landing on my shoulder.
Holy shit.
My body felt completely out of control- shaking, trembling, my breath coming out in erratic, unsettling strobe-like huffs.
“Fuck,” Shane growled, his hand slipping out of my hair and folding around my chest above my breasts, holding me against him.
Fuck.
My sentiments exactly.
Feeling slowly came back to my body from the bottom up- my feet, legs, torso, arms. I pressed my heels harder into the ground, trying to hold up some of my own weight as the aftershocks subsided. Shane’s hands released my chest and stomach then I completely lost them. I heard a zipper. Then I heard footsteps. I craned my neck over my shoulder and saw him walking over to one of those ancient garbage barrels in the parking lot and disposing of the condom. He moved back toward me quickly, purposefully.
Meanwhile, I was still a puddle of spent desire.
He came up behind me, hands going around my waist and yanking my skirt back into place. “Ready?” he asked, his voice a little distant.
Ready?
Ready?
Seriously?
That was how he wanted to play it?
Dinner, quick fuck, home by ten?
Well, fine.
If that was how the game was going to go, I was going to fucking win.
“Yep,” I said, adopting my most breezy tone and reaching to snatch my panties off the ground, balling them into a fist, and reaching for my door. I didn’t know if he offered me a hand because I didn’t look for it. I hauled myself up, stuffed my panties into my purse that wouldn’t close with the added contents, and reached for my belt. Shane swung up into his seat, turned on the engine, and jerked the truck into a stomach-dropping turn to head back toward the main drag.
I kept my eyes out the windshield and my hands curled around my purse, trying my best to not do what I really wanted.
Because what I really wanted to do was wait for us to stop at a light, lean over, punch him square in the balls, then hop out and haul it home on foot. Quite frankly, I’d rather get mugged than spend another second in his company.
Which wasn’t exactly fair of me. He had, back at the restaurant, given me a chance to have more than a quick fuck. I had sort-of turned that down. It was my own fault. I had no one to blame but myself that he was being all cold and detached.
That being said, there was no denying the rush of rejection I felt flooding my system. It was silly and unlike me, but it was there in the sour feeling in my stomach, in the way my eyes stung a bit like I was going to tear up, and in the way my heart seemed to be pounding harder than it had been when we were having sex.
The truck barely made it to a complete stop in the lot behind my apartment building when I wrenched the door open. “Thanks for dinner. Feel free to never contact me again.”
I dropped down gracelessly and tried like hell to keep my pace deliberate and not like I was running away. I refused to look back and felt my throat constrict at the idea that he was following me as I stabbed the key into the lock and opened the back door. When I went inside and turned, though, his truck was already gone.
