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Okay, yeah, that sent his brain on hiatus. His conscience packed its bags too. Forget it, buddy. You’re on your own now.
“Don’t say I didn’t try to warn you,” he said against her temple.
“I won’t say anything about tonight again. Just fuck me and we’ll move on. It’ll be like it never happened.” Out here, her eyes were darker and more luminous. They were filled with desire, definitely, but they were tinged with sadness too. And desperation. They pulled him in so deep there wa
s only one answer he could give.
Except his cock ached so much he couldn’t say anything at all. So he showed her.
He pulled on her braid and jerked her against him, absorbing her gasp with his mouth. His tongue swept between her parted lips and claimed hers, drawing her into an urgent thrust-and-retreat. All the while he sculpted her ass in his hands, massaging gently. First through her shorts, then beneath once he’d undone the zipper and slipped inside.
He hissed upon meeting the thin strip of fabric between her cheeks, somehow not surprised she’d gone the thong route. Her flesh burned his palms, hotter than even the rain that now pelted them with the force of countless tiny nails. But she was all he could feel, all he could taste as they consumed each other with ravenous kisses. She’d had wine and only now did it register in his brain, the crisp, fruity notes of it. And more, something chocolaty and rich. Or maybe that was just her, sweet and luscious all the way to the center. A deception for the senses, so that by the time he realized he was caught, it was too late. She had him.
And, oh shit, did she have him. Lock, stock, and fully loaded barrel, ready to blow.
Her hands were on his cock, working it in rough pulls through his jeans. He yanked down the shoulder of her tank top and feasted on the swell of flesh that plumped over the top, using his tongue to trace her damp nipple. Slick with rain, fragrant with her summery floral scent. Sunshine in the middle of the storm.
She made a choked sound as she latched onto his scalp with her nails, her other hand still busy between them. Impatient, he pulled the fabric down so that her breast popped over the top and into his waiting mouth.
A scrape of teeth, a hard suck, and she was writhing against him, the jerks of her hips against his already-straining shaft adding an unintended friction that made him pant.
When he couldn’t take it anymore, when even the ozone-stung air burned his raw throat, he seized hold of her hips and turned her to face the door, caging her between him and the wood with his arms and his body. He scissored his teeth over the soft flesh of her neck while he spanned his hands across her waist. She felt so good in his arms, a live wire quivering with energy. “Still want this?” he whispered, his tongue zeroing in on the hollow behind her earlobe.
“God, yes. More than ever.” She reached back to grab his ass, hauling him so close that they slammed together against the door. “Put your hands on me. All over me.”
He stretched his fingers, teasing her with their nearness to the open zipper of her shorts. “I’m already touching you.” He wanted his mouth on her, everywhere. Wanted to hear her scream.
“Not enough.” She grabbed his hand and dragged him down where she wanted him, holding him between her thighs so that he could feel the heat throbbing through the denim. “Dammit.”
The hissed curse instead of a plea made him grin and relent. He dove inside and drew a finger through the moisture that awaited him, flicking the edge of his fingertip over her swollen flesh. She was soaked inside and out, her own inferno as relentless as the storm that bore down on them.
“Beautiful.” He pulled her earlobe between his teeth, her stud earring clinking against his teeth. Bit down when she moaned. “Make those noises for me.”
She complied eagerly, and her uninhibited sounds drove him insane. He nipped her lobe again, eliciting more of her whimpers, and finally gave her a taste of what she begged for.
With a circle of his finger she stilled in his arms. With another she came back to life, clutching him deeper. Tempting him with small rocks of her pelvis. Drawing him to claim her there, first with his fingers, then his cock. That last joining would be both the beginning and their end.
Don’t go there. Not now.
He stroked her sex as slowly as the raging need inside him would allow, letting his want flow out through his touch and into her willing body. If he made this good for her, if she got the orgasm she’d sought, he’d be able to sleep tonight. Giving her the release—and the escape—she craved would feed his own urges. And hopefully, vanquish them entirely in her direction.
This was his turf, both literally and metaphorically, and she couldn’t knock him off his stride here. He wouldn’t let her.
He pumped two fingers into her and sucked on the side of her neck, dimly realizing he would mark her skin. Some petty, elemental part of him wanted to brand her. For this fleeting moment, he could call her his. And could make sure she saw him on her when she looked in the mirror tomorrow, no matter what she told herself about what they’d been to each other.
Her pleasure seeped into his skin, torturing him more than the divots of driving rain he shielded her from. The hard nub beneath his thumb pulsed with her growing excitement, but it was her moans that led him on, taking him to the edge with her breathy, dirty demands.
“Get me off. I’m so close. Can you feel it?” He just barely heard her over the rush of the wind, but the words lanced into his gut and twisted coils of desire around his balls.
“I feel everything.” Too much, all rushing at him with the speed of an avalanche. If he didn’t jump out of the way, he’d get buried. It was an odds game, calculating how much she could take. How much he could stand.
Dillon squeezed his eyes shut and dragged her back against him, grinding his painfully stiff cock into the crease of her ass. Desperate for something to give him some relief. To build the pressure more, until one of them broke.
She squeezed him, her inner walls starting to spasm. “God, I’m gonna—”
“No.” His gruff denial cut her off. He wouldn’t go easy on her. Maybe other men leaped to do her bidding—he totally didn’t blame them—but he’d be damned if he helped her forget him. “Not yet.”
She whimpered when he drew his thumb away from her clit, his fingers never letting up inside. “Yes yet. Now,” she breathed at his sharp tug on her braid.
