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June hits the wall, gasps, one hand on my shoulder. With my free hand I take it, pin it over her head, press my body against hers until the ache dulls just a little. I’m hard as an iron spike. I know she can feel it.
I know, from experience and the way that her hips move against mine, that she wants me.
I let her wrist go, push my hands under her shirt, her skin soft, pliable. I grab her hard enough that I can feel each rib and I let my mouth leave hers, move to her earlobe, her neck.
“I should leave a mark,” I growl, nipping at her skin. “It’s fair, don’t you think?
She swallows, the muscles moving under my lips.
“The scratches were an accident,” she murmurs. “I don’t even know when I made them.”
I move my hands to her back, unhook her bra.
“Wednesday,” I tell her, pushing the cups of her bra over her breasts, her stiff nipples between my fingers. “You shouted my name and shredded my back and now you’re telling me you don’t remember?”
I pinch both nipples, and she arches her back, her eyes closing, her breath leaving in a whoosh.
“I remember Wednesday,” she gasps, her chest heaving in my hands. “I just don’t remember hurting you.”
I pinch her nipples one percent harder and she grabs my shirt, twists it in her hand like she’s begging me without words.
“You didn’t hurt me,” I say, and I’m almost laughing, teasing her. “You think anything could hurt when I’m deep inside you and you’re coming so hard you scream my name?”
Even in the dark, I can see her cheeks turn faintly pinker and I give her nipples one last, hard squeeze, take her chin in one hand.
“You did it,” I murmur. “You were there, and you were naked and willing as hell, and if I recall correctly you begged me over and over again not to stop.”
I yank her jeans undone, push my other hand between her legs.
She’s unbelievably wet, her lips puffy and swollen and I slide one finger between them, pull it back to circle her clit.
“You don’t get to blush when you did what I’m only describing, June,” I tell her. “And you particularly don’t get to blush about it when you’re this wet virtually in public.”
“It’s involuntary,” she says as the palm of her hand finds my cock through my pants. “I can’t help it.”
“The blushing or getting wet?” I ask, one hand still on her face, the other circling her clit slowly.
“Both,” she says.
I kiss her and I slide my fingers into her all at once, and she bucks and makes a noise into my mouth as I push her back against the wall, harder, her wetness soaking my hand.
I’m going to miss her, desperately, and I don’t want to think about it so I kiss her harder and stroke that spot inside her, the heel of my hand pressed against her clit, and I feel the way her body trembles under mine and that’s all I think about.
I want her. I want her now, here, and that’s not new.
What’s new is the ferocity of my desire, the angry edge to it. I want — need — to make her feel something, to make sure she never forgets me or this moment.
“June,” I say, still stroking. “Walk to the counter and bend over it.”
I pull my fingers out of her.
“That—”
“Now.”
She does it and I feel a sudden rush: power, control, ownership. In this one way, at least, June is mine and that’s what I think as I’m right behind her, pushing her jeans down to her knees, stroking her with one hand, bending over and murmuring into her ear.
She’s mine. She’s mine.
“Do you want to know what happens next?” I ask, teasing at her entrance.
“Yes,” she whispers.
I could do anything.
Right now, she is mine.
“I’m going to eat you out bent over this counter,” I say, speaking slowly so she can savor every word, my voice a rumble. “I don’t give a damn who’s outside and I don’t give a damn if they come in because right now, June, you’re all mine and nothing else matters.”
I slide my fingers into her again, watch her as she bites her lip.
“Then,” I go on. “Once you finish, we’re going to walk outside and you’re going to tell everyone that I’m giving you a ride home.”
I find her clit with my thumb and her eyelids flutter.
“Then what?” June murmurs.
“Then we go to my house and fuck,” I tell her, and I drop to my knees.
I find her clit with my tongue instantly and June gasps, shifts, rises to her toes and I tease her, drawing my tongue around that button in a slick circle, fingers still buried inside her, stroking from within.
She’s musky, tangy, slightly salty and slightly sweet as lick her harder. I flatten my tongue against her clit, drag the length of it against her until she groans and sighs, the sound of her voice bouncing off stainless steel.
