The wet, slick rhythm of him moving in and out of me fills the space around us. There is a soft slap of his hips against the inside of my thighs every time he sinks deep. His breath, harsh and uneven, against my throat. My own helpless whimpers, which I am trying so hard to swallow and which keep slipping out anyway.
He is grunting low under his breath on every other stroke. He growls, and I feel the vibration against my chest.
I moan, and he uses his mouth to gag me while he keeps fucking me. It is unbearable and wonderful. I am whining into him on every thrust.
My orgasm gathers low. It pulls tight. It draws everything in me into one hard, hot point, and then it stalls there, just out of reach, just?—
He shifts the angle.
That’s all it takes.
The next thrust grinds the base of him against my clit, and the one after that buries him so deep, I shatter.
I come so hard that I can’t make a sound at all for the first half of it. My mouth opens against his. My back bows off the wall. My body locks around him, around his waist, around his cock buried inside me, and I clamp down on him in long, hard pulses that feel like they are going to wring me inside out. Then the sound finally reaches my throat, and it is a high, broken cry. He kisses me, moving faster now. Rougher. He rides me through the aftershocks.
He grunts low and deep. Two more brutal thrusts, deeper than anything that has come before, and then he holds himself buried as far inside me as he can go.
I feel him come on the next thrust. His eyes are closed. He shudders against me, groaning. His arms tighten around me. He spills into me in long, hard waves, and for each one, his hips give a little jerk against me that drives him another fraction deeper. He buries his face in the curve of my throat to keep his own sounds in. The growl that comes out of him moments later is muffled against my skin, and I feel it in my bones.
Then, for a few long seconds, neither of us moves. He is breathing hard against my collarbone. I am breathing hard against his ear. The heels of my shoes have hooked into the back of his thighs. The wall has gone warm behind me. Everything below my waist is liquid. He is still inside me, still pulsing, and I am still spasming around him in lazy little aftershocks I have no control over.
Oh shit!
Shiiiit.
We didn’t just do that.
Oh, no!
Crap.
He must feel the change in me, because something shifts in him too. His arms ease. He pulls his face back from my throat.He lowers me down until both my feet find the carpet again. He doesn’t quite let go of my hip until he’s sure I can stand.
He pulls out of me by bending his knees. He tries to hold back the soft grunt as he does it.
The slick, hot drag of him slipping free almost takes my knees out. The silk of my underwear snaps back into place with a small wet sound, and I feel him there at once, soaking through the silk as he starts to leak from me.
He steps back.
I press my palms back against the wall to keep myself upright. I’m still breathing heavily. My hair has fallen free. It’s in a tumble about my shoulders.
Shit!
I pull my bodice straight, my dress falling back into place. I look down, and thankfully, the fabric isn’t creased. That’s something.
I look up.
Ridge’s face is closed off. His jaw is tight. It’s different from before. He’s angry. No, he’s furious. He blames me for this. I know he does.
Asshole.
He tucks himself back into his pants and slides the zipper up. He smooths the front of his suit jacket, doing up the button. Something passes over his face and is gone again.
By the time he turns back to me, he looks almost like himself.
My pulse beats fast and high in my throat. I’m hot all over.
“That was a mistake,” I say. I know it’s what he’s thinking.
