My hands are on her, pushing up her skirt, shoving fabric out of the way, needing…
Fuck. I can’t breathe.
This isn’t about patience.
This isn’t about teasing.
This is years of longing, years of loss, years of fucking restraint snapping all at once.
I fumble with my jeans, yanking them open, every muscle in my body tightly coiled, aching.
Lila gasps as I grip her hips, my forehead pressed against hers, our breaths tangled, our bodies trembling.
She shifts, aligns and then, I’m inside her.
Deep.
Home.
Lila cries out, her head falling back, her fingers clutching me like she’ll never let go.
I let out a strangled groan, my arms bracing against the counter, holding us both together, because fuck she’s tight, she’s warm, she’s everything and I’m already losing my mind.
Her legs tighten around me, her hips tilting, desperate for more and I give it to her.
Fast. Hard. Right.
She clings to me, gasping my name, shaking with every thrust.
The cafe is silent except for the sound of us, harsh breaths, desperate moans, bodies colliding, breaking, burning.
It’s reckless. It’s rushed.
But it’s also inevitable.
Her fingers curl at the back of my neck, dragging me down, kissing me like she needs me to survive. Maybe we both do.
I press my forehead against hers, my breath ragged, my hands tightening around her waist, holding her exactly where I need her.
“You feel this?” I growl, voice raw, desperate. “This is real. This is us.”
She whimpers, her legs locked around me, pulling me deeper, demanding more.
I give it to her.
“You were made for me.” My voice is a snarl, my lips brushing hers, teasing, taunting, owning.
Her head falls back, a wrecked moan tearing from her throat.
I drag my teeth over her jaw, biting down just enough to make her cry out, to make her feel me.
“Mine—”
Her entire body trembles, tightens, fucking bows into me.
“Say it,” I growl, breath hot, breathless. “Say it, Lila.”
Her voice is wrecked, shattered, trembling on a whimper.
