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Dancing to the beat several floors below us, I bob my head and graze my fingers along Sloan’s thick bicep. It’s hard to believe I am about to have sex with him on a rooftop, of all places. Sloan leads me into a dark corner, out of sight from the few people who were smoking cigarettes by the door. No one is near us, the only sounds coming from the people screaming to the music. They can’t see us, and even if they could, I doubt I would care.
Once Sloan spins me around, so that my back faces him, he presses my palms to the wall, holding my hands above my head. “Stay like this,” he orders and releases his grip on me.
I don’t say a word, my moan the only response he needs. His breath on my neck causes the hair to stand up and tiny bumps to dot my skin. A trace of dark stubble that runs along his angular jaw meets my skin along with his tongue. Sloan pushes my dress up my thighs and over my hips, digging his cock between my ass cheeks. Even through his pants, I can feel every long, hard inch of him.
Sloan cups my ass in his strong hands and spreads my legs further apart. “You’re such a dirty girl,” he growls in my ear.
My juices slide down my inner thigh, much to Sloan’s delight. He fucks me with his fingers, and when I move my hand to touch my breast, Sloan peels it from my chest with his free hand and places it back on the wall.
“What did I tell you?” His deep voice, although low and sensual, pierces my eardrum. This man doesn’t just like to be in control, he needs it. Craves it just as much as I like him exercising that power.
He holds his hand over mine, our fingers intertwined as he brings me to the point of orgasm. Just as I’m about to come, he withdraws his fingers. Sloan brings them to my mouth and forces me to suck on them.
“See how good you taste?”
I glance over my shoulder at him with a smile that reaches up to my eyes.
He smirks, creasing the dimple in his right cheek. The carnal look in his glassy green eyes tells me everything I need to know. He’s the hunter, and I am his prey. I should run but I want to stay. Sloan turns my head to the side and drags his teeth along my neck before he bites me, tugging at my flesh with his teeth. It’s rough but playful, the good kind of pain that I welcome.
He keeps going, and at first, it hurts, but I like the ripple of pleasure this simple gesture produces. I want more. And Sloan gives it to me. I moan so loud I wonder if anyone can hear me. But neither of us cares enough to find out. First I hear his zipper, followed by the tear of the condom package.
Without preparing me for his size, Sloan spreads me open, ripping my insides apart when he enters me. He fucks me like a savage, clawing at my delicate skin with his teeth, holding me against the wall with his strong hands,
claiming my pussy like he owns it.
Sloan moves his hand to my throat and lightly squeezes, feeling my pulse beneath his fingers. “Be a good girl and come for me.” Even though I can’t see his face, I can feel his lips turning up into a smile against my neck.
I tighten my hold on his cock, and he groans. Knowing how close I am, he has me right where he wants me. Moving his hand from my throat to my chin, he cups my cheek and runs his thumb along my bottom lip. I stick out my tongue to taste the saltiness of his skin. He growls and pulls my lip down to shove his finger inside. The harder I suck, the harder he fucks me.
We both come undone, our orgasms a few seconds apart. He collapses on my back and leans his chin on my shoulder, his cock still pulsing inside me.
“I’m not done with you,” he breathes.
As he slides his finger out of my mouth, I smile so wide my cheeks hurt. But I don’t look up at him. I keep my head pointed down, attempting to catch my breath.
“Your place or mine?” I mutter.
“Mine,” he growls.
Chapter Eight
SLOAN
After I pour Ava a glass of wine and grab a beer for myself, I sit next to her on the couch. She takes a sip and looks over at me, as if she’s nervous, before pounding the rest of her drink. I just fucked her on the roof at The Sixth Floor. Why is she acting so shy now that I have her inside my apartment? She did the same thing on Thursday night at the Fountain Bar.
Ava’s blue eyes are wide and somewhat distant, almost as if she’s deep in thought. A beat passes where I drink from my beer, and Ava bites the inside of her cheek. She’s adorable in a hot-mess-I want-to-bend-over-this-couch kind of way. Her enormous tits are popping out from the top of her tight red dress, drawing my attention to one of her best assets.
“So this is your place,” she mutters after a long pause. “It’s beautiful.” Her eyes roam around the room as she takes in her surroundings. “Fancy. You must be a good surgeon.”
I want to laugh at her comment but stop myself. My apartment occupies a large portion of the twenty-first floor, making it more of a house than the rest of the oversized luxury condos on the lower floors.
“The best,” I say, sliding next to her so that our thighs are touching. “I told you I was good with my hands.”
“Don’t I know it?” She shoves her face into her wine glass and holds the stem with both hands, drinking the last of it in one big sip.
I reach for her glass, and my fingers brush against hers. “Do you want more?”
“Are you trying to get me drunk so that you can get me into your bed?” She laughs.
