Page 46 of Dirty Pool

“I have not lost a game of pool in five years or more.”

Gabbie nodded, appreciative. “You haven’t lost it yet, though.”

But he would.

She readied her final shot, took it, and sunk the eight ball in the pocket she called. Exactly as she expected to do, and probably the way he assumed she would, too. She hadn’t even straightened fully from the table before Michel had crossed around to stand in front of her so that she was facing him.

Then, he was kissing her.

Hard, fast, and bruising.

It took her breath away.

Her lips felt numb.

She tasted a hint of vodka on his tongue when it slipped into her mouth to war with hers. His lips worked against hers so fierce, and hungry. There was no question what he wanted, and she was more than happy to oblige.

Her body begged for it.

• • •

Sex was better when one was in a state of desperation. Or, that’s what Gabbie found. It’s why she didn’t even think twice about climbing into the backseat of Michel’s car because no, she did not want to waste time going home, or to his place … she just wanted him.

Desperation was the reason she found herself naked in his lap. The car was hotter than it should have been, but not because it was idling in the dark parking lot. No, it was hot because of them. Because of their bodies moving against each other in their need to get off, but to use each other to do it.

His fingers dug painfully good into her hips, pulling her body down harder into his cock as his teeth found her throat again. Pain sluiced across her skin as the pleasure continued to build in her stomach, twisting and curling together until she didn’t know where the pain began, and the pleasure ended.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Michel grunted against her neck, his breath hot as she rode him harder. “You love that cock, don’t you?”

Gabbie would have responded, but she was just flying too high. Like her nervous system was being washed with pleasure, and her tongue was too thick in her mouth. The only sound she could make came out high, and broken.

She couldn’t get enough.

She wanted more.

“Are you gonna come for me?” he demanded.

Gabbie whined. “More, more, more.”

Next to his name, it became the only thing she could really say. And even that mantra melted together the faster she spoke, and the more her need grew. Yes, she was going to come. And yes, she wanted more so it would be so much feckin’ better when she finally did. His hands gripped tight to her backside, his fingers digging in hard enough to her arse that she was sure there’d be fingerprints left behind tomorrow.

That was fine.

She wanted his marks.

She wanted to feel him on her arse, and between her thighs every time she sat down or took a step. A beautiful ache, really. She’d use that feeling and this memory when she was in bed alone, and the desperation came again. It wouldn’t feel as good, but she’d still need it. Just like he made her need this with him.

Michel’s hand curved lower along her backside, his grip tightening to stretch her open as his other hand came down, too. She felt the slight pressure of two of his fingers against the tight hole of her arse before he was circling the ring of muscles.

Every part of her tensed.

Her sex flexed.

“Here?”

Gabbie’s breath rushed out of her violently, but he caught the sound she made with a burning kiss that had her nodding to his request. “Please, Michel.”

Her fingernails raked red scores down his pecs as one of those fingers at her arse pushed in. The pain was back again, but it was numbed because something else was there, too. Something thicker, and teasing. She swore everything became slower to her senses—she felt every single thing. His fingers working her arse as his cock stretched her open with every lift and lower of her hips.