“Hold on,” he says.
He unbuttons my jeans, sliding them and my panties down my legs in one swift motion. I kick them off, sending them flying into a pile of ferns.
He doesn’t waste time. He sheds his own clothes quickly, his movements urgent. He rolls the condom then positions himself at my entrance.
Hooking my knees over his elbows, he opens me up completely.
“Look at me,” he commands.
I meet his gaze, my heart hammering against my ribs. He pushes forward, sinking into me in one smooth stroke.
I cry out, my back arching off the counter. He fills me perfectly, stretching me, completing me. He doesn’t wait for me to adjust.
He starts to move, his hips snapping against mine, driving into me with a force that makes the pots on the shelf rattle.
It’s exactly what I need. It’s hard and fast and dirty. I dig my nails into his shoulders, holding on for dear life.
The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the quiet shop, mixing with our heavy breathing and the wet sounds of our coupling.
“You feel so good,” he grunts, his forehead resting against mine. “So tight, Amber.”
I can’t speak. I can only moan as he hits that spot inside me, the one that makes my vision blur. The tension in my body, the anxiety in my mind—it all coils tighter and tighter, preparing to snap.
“Eli, I’m close,” I gasp.
“Let go,” he says, his voice rough. “Come for me.”
He shifts the angle slightly, grinding against my clit with every thrust.
That’s all it takes.
I explode. My orgasm rips through me, intense and overwhelming. I scream his name, my inner walls clamping down around him, milking his cock.
“Fuck!” Eli shouts, his rhythm faltering. He buries himself deep inside me, his hips jerking as he finds his own release.
We stay like that for a long moment, locked together, our chests heaving, our breath mingling in the cold air. The shop issilent again, save for the ticking of the clock and the hum of the refrigerator in the back.
Eli presses a soft kiss to my forehead, then to my lips. He gently pulls out, disposing of the condom in the trash can under the counter.
He helps me down from the counter, my legs trembling like jelly. He pulls me into his arms, wrapping me in his warmth.
“Better?” he asks, a smug satisfaction in his tone.
I bury my face in his chest, inhaling the scent of sex and sugar. “Much. Thank you.”
“Anytime,” he says, rubbing my back. “Now, can we talk or do I need to fuck you one more time?”
I laugh, the sound muffled against his chest. I am here, in his arms, and I am safe.
“We can talk.”
Eli presses another kiss to my forehead. He’s all tenderness now, a far cry from the man who’d had me pinned against the counter only seconds ago.
He steps back, his hands moving to pick up his T-shirt, which he discarded on the floor earlier.
“Hold on,” he says, pulling the fabric over his head. “Let me get something to clean you up.”
He walks over to the prep sink, wetting a handful of paper towels. He comes back to me, his expression soft, almost reverent as he reaches between my legs.
