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Dalton hears the effort. Of course he does. “Trying to be quiet?” he asks, voice low.

I nod once, barely.

“Good.”

“Stop saying good like that.”

He ignores me. He rubs my clit harder, then slips two fingers into my pussy, curling them in a way that makes my knees give for real this time. He catches me immediately, one arm around my waist, my back still pinned to the door.

He drags his fingers out of me and looks at my face for one second. Then he does the last thing I expect. He hooks both hands under my thighs and lifts me.

I gasp and grab onto him automatically, my legs wrapping around his hips while his mouth crashes back down on mine. My back leaves the door. One of his hands goes under my ass to hold me up, and suddenly the whole room changes shape around us.

“Oh my God,” I whisper against his mouth.

He kisses me again, rougher this time. “You can hold on, can’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Show me.”

I lock my ankles behind him.

That gets a low sound out of him, almost a groan, and then he walks us the two steps to the wall and presses me against it. I can feel him hard through his trousers, thick and heavy against the place between my legs, and I move without thinking, rubbing myself over him once just for the pressure.

He goes still. Then he pulls back enough to look at me. “That’s what you’re doing?”

I’m breathing too hard to be embarrassed properly. “Maybe.”

His hand slides between us, fumbling just enough with his belt to prove he’s more wound up than he wants to look. I reach down between our bodies and help him, because I’m not in the mood to watch him be noble for longer than necessary, and the second I get my hand around his cock he sucks in a breath.

He pushes into me standing.

There’s no slow setup now, no room for it. He guides his cock to my pussy and thrusts upward, and the stretch of him makes me throw my head back against the wall. I bite down on the sound as he fills me in one hard, deep push.

“Fuck.”

My heels dig into his back.

He stays there for one second, breathing through his nose, forehead pressed to mine. “Still okay?”

“Yes.” I’m already moving against him. “Move.”

He does.

Standing like this changes everything. Every thrust hits deeper. My body is already soft and wet from his fingers, from his mouth, from the sheer anger and humiliation of the night, and now he’s fucking me hard enough to make the wall tap faintly behind my shoulders while I cling to him with my legs locked around his hips.

One of his hands grips my ass to hold me up. The other squeezes my breast, thumb rolling over my nipple before he bends his head and takes it into his mouth again.

I nearly cry out.

That’s what undoes me—his cock driving into me while his mouth works my tit, sucking hard, tongue flicking over the nipple, his breath hot on my skin. I can barely keep up. I can barely stay quiet.

“Dalton,” I gasp.

He pulls his mouth off my breast just long enough to say, “Bite your lip.”

I do. It doesn’t help much.