Page 104 of Run to Me

“No touching. Keep these to yourself.” She attempts playfulness, but her tone drips with seduction. I bet she doesn’t even realize it. Or maybe she does.

Too drunk on the sight of her to speak, I nod. When the beat drops again, she sinks into a low squat, her body writhing as she rises to a standing position and lifts the hair from her neck. She turns around and wiggles her ass in my face, running her palms along her narrow waist, teasing me with every crease and curve. I bite my lip and clench my fists to keep from folding her forward onto her hands and knees and slamming into her from behind. Fuck, she’s sexy.

She spins back around, and whatever expression she sees on my face wipes the levity from hers. Still, I keep my hands to myself. Moving her body like a snake, she raises her arms above her head and thrusts her tits in my face. Trailing the delicate fingers of one hand down her other arm from wrist to shoulder, she entices me further. My dick is hard as steel, aching for me to squeeze it in relief.

Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, and my restraint snaps. I yank her toward me by the hips, but she shoves my hands away.

“Hands off,” she commands.

On the next dip in the beat, she straddles my bare knee, which connects with the heat between her legs. Her damp panties rub against my skin, her lips parting in pleasure when she rolls her pelvis.

Before she can move out of range again, I snag the fabric of her tank top between my teeth to keep her in place. Smirking, I raise my hands to show I’m not touching her, following her instructions like a good boy. In a daring move, she twists her pert nipples as she continues to hump my thigh. Two can play at this game. I raise my knee, taking away her ability to maneuver freely, leaving her no choice but to grind harder on my leg.

I spit out the material and ask, “Are you trying to make me feel better? Or yourself?”

“You,” she says, resting her weight on me and rocking her hips.

In a seamless move, I shove her shirt over her breasts and splay my hands along the bottom crease of her ass cheeks, lifting her enough for my middle and ring fingers to tease her entrance.

“I think you’re a liar,” I say, flicking her nipples with my tongue while holding her gaze. She sighs, her eyelids growing heavy with lust. “Want me to make you feel good, beautiful?”

“Yes,” she breathes, caught up in her own pleasure, but she quickly backtracks. “No. I came here for you. Let me ease your pressure.”

She attempts to slide off me and fall to her knees. Damn, what I wouldn’t give to have her mouth on me. Those luscious lips…just the thought of them wrapped around my dick again has me leaking in my shorts. With an agonizing groan, I stop her descent and tug her onto my lap.

“I’m a sweaty mess, birdie. Let’s save that for another time.”

She pouts—actually fucking pouts—jutting out her plush bottom lip like a sacrificial offering to my dark side. I suck it into my mouth and bite down hard, and my girl gasps. Not a horrified gasp, but a surprised one. Her thighs squeeze my waist, and she grinds her hips faster.

I dig my fingers into her ass cheeks, and a growl rumbles from my chest. My girl wants to play hard, and I’ve never shied away from a game that requires full-body contact.

“You want me rough and raw, don’t you, beautiful? You like the thought of me dirtying you up a little.”

“God, yes,” she moans, throwing her head back to expose her throat, which I lick from the base all the way to her ear.

“Then let’s get dirty,” I whisper.

I haul her across the garage and drop her onto the folding table. The lamp teeters when it wobbles. The table may not be the safest place to fuck, but it’s the perfect height.

“Are you wet enough to take me?” I ask.

Before she can answer, I slide the crotch of her panties aside and stuff two fingers inside her. She’s drenched. At the sound of her throaty groan, I change my plans. Instead of burying my dick inside her right away, I pump my hand faster and graze her clit with my thumb, eager to make her come.

I crook my fingers and find that perfect spot inside her, adding more pressure until she cries out, “Right there, J. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

Thrilled by her begging, I increase the speed and fuck her with my long fingers. Because the song ended a while ago, the garage fills with the sounds of my harsh breaths, her mewling cries, and the squelching of my hand between her legs.

“Come for me, birdie. Soak my hand.”

She clenches around my fingers and bucks her hips. A string of curses flows from her tongue. The table shakes in tandem with her legs, and the lamp falls victim to her body’s movements, crashing to the floor. With the lamp shade askew, the light shines upward, cloaking one side of our faces in shadow.

Something about the sight tips her over the edge, and she falls apart beautifully with a visible shudder racking her body, a hoarse cry scraping her throat, and my broken name on her lips. Lips I steal with brutal force, claiming them as I replace my fingers with my aching dick, filling her in a single, unforgiving thrust. Her mouth falls open against mine on a silent scream, her pupils blown with lust.

With each powerful thrust, she cries out again and again, the sound like a cheering crowd under the stadium lights on game night. I grunt each time I plunge deep. Unless she tells me to stop or go easy on her, I’ll unleash the storm wreaking havoc inside my mind and body onto hers until we find the calm that comes afterward.

“Pull my hair,” I command.

Her eyes flare with surprise. “What?”