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“So fucking sensitive.” Her tight nipples drilled into his palm and she pushed her ass back against him until the tip of his cock slid inside.
“Simon. I need. God…” She pressed her forehead to the wall. “Please.”
He released one breast to grab a hold of his cock. “Please?” He swiped it through her folds and paused at her entrance. He plucked at her nipple. She whimpered and undulated those sexy hips, trying to get him to thrust inside of her.
“Sadist,” she gasped.
He nosed her hair out of the way and sank his teeth into her neck. “Tell me what you need.”
“You.”
“Me?”
“Inside me, dammit.” She wiggled until he slipped inside an inch, then two.
He shoved her up against the wall, thanking God for her heels tonight. They were nearly the same height to begin with, but right now, they lined up perfectly.
“Are you sure?” he panted against her neck. The lone light they’d left on in their room left them mostly in shadow. He’d earned the right to see her in the light. To lay her out and watch every nuance of her reactions as they came together. The shadows had been clawing at him all day. He shouldn’t drag her down there with him.
Then she reached back and curled her fingers into
his hair, pulling him closer. “Fuck me.” Her voice was strained and husky. “God, just fuck me.”
All the invitation he needed.
He slammed inside her and she screamed. Just as he’d craved. It was as if a switch had been flipped in Margo, from semi-restrained to…this.
This was all he would accept. Now and forever.
He drove into her again and again. She took each thrust with the giving perfection of her body. She even pushed back on him and begged for more.
He was desperately afraid he was unleashing too much on her, but she anchored a hand in his hair, down the back of his neck, and held him closer.
Sweat poured down his spine and into his eyes as he took and took and prayed he was giving back at the same time.
His name was on her lips. It quaked around him and finally infiltrated the haze in his brain. Her hiccuping sob broke him and let him finally slow enough to accept the raging release that only she could provide.
He came until his mind emptied.
Until she took every single twisting shadow eating him alive and left him blissfully quiet and clean.
He laid his cheek against her shoulder and curled his arms around her. “Margo.”
She waved her hand a little and sagged against the wall. “Margo isn’t here right now. She’s currently dead.”
He laughed. “Are you okay?”
“Why do you always ask that? You do see what I’m built like, right? I can take anything you dish out, Kagan.”
He slid a hand down her hip and stepped away from her enough to gently turn her around. “Because I literally fucked you into a wall.”
She rolled her shoulders, her eyes drowsy. “You did. And it was just what I needed. What we both needed evidently.” She glanced down, then pushed her hair out of her face. “You gotta stop ruining my stage tights though.”
He grinned. “What can I say? They make me crazy.” He tucked her hair around her ear. “Let’s put you in the shower then we can crawl into that coffin-sized bed. Is everyone in this country used to such small beds?”
“I don’t mind cuddling. I miss George,” she said with a cute little pout.
Their cat took up an astounding chunk of their bed. But they both loved the little idiot. And maybe if Simon curled in with her, he could actually shut off.
