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“Shut up,” he hissed, grabbing me and roughly turning me, pushing me up against the sinks.
I was too stunned to say anything, but my heart and mind were racing at his attitude, at his, well, meanness.
“You’re going to come around my cock,” he told me.
Even as he said it, I could hear his zipper, then the crinkle of the condom foil.
Not a minute later, his hand was yanking up my skirt as the other pulled down my panties.
Then, with literally no other warning, he was slamming inside me, taking every last inch of me in one hard thrust.
His hand slapped over my mouth, cutting off the surprised yelping moan that escaped me at the sudden feel of him inside of me.
“Think you need a reminder of how much your pussy likes my cock,” he hissed in my ear as he started to thrust up into me.
Hard, deep, deliberate movements that had his cock slamming inside me to the hilt each time.
He seemed to pay no mind to the fact that he knew my ribs were still stinging.
But, to be honest, as my walls tightened around his cock, the sharp sensation in my ribs kind of became dulled by the pleasure growing in my system.
The arm that didn’t have its hand over my mouth slipped across my belly, anchoring me too him, holding me in place as he fucked me.
“Feel how tight you’re squeezing my cock?” he hissed in my ear, and like he commanded it, my walls tighten even more around him. “Your pussy was fucking made for me,” he growled, tone dark and possessive.
It shouldn’t have been hot.
I’d never heard him so angry before. One look in the mirror showed me that it wasn’t just his tone that was dark. His face was too.
It should have been scary.
But there was no denying that the dominant sensation in my system right then was desire.
And not just because he was inside me.
No.
There was some part of me that was drawn into the darkness in him right then, that was salivating over the possessive way he was holding me, was using me like I was his to do with what he wanted.
Was that probably not normal?
Yeah.
But it wasn’t time for therapy.
It was time to be in the moment, to not let myself get distracted, to miss a single moment with this man I’d been thinking about and dreaming about and, yes, missing for a week.
“You’ve been thinking about my cock, haven’t you?” he asked. “Did you touch your pussy thinking about it?” he asked. “Answer me,” he demanded, giving my whole body a little shake.
Mouth covered, all I could do was give him a nod.
Because it was the truth.
I’d wanted someone before.
But I’d never had a longing like I did for him when he was gone. This sort of ache that made it hard to sleep and focus.
I went to bed wanting him.
I woke up wanting him.
And no amount of fantasizing about it, or taking matters into my own hands, could take the edge off of the need.
I didn’t want to think about him touching me; I wanted him to touch me.
It was as simple—and as complicated—as that.
“You gonna come?” he asked as my body got tenser and tenser. “Yeah, that’s it,” he hissed as the orgasm slammed through me. It was a good thing his arm was around my waist, because I was pretty sure my legs wouldn’t have held me up at the intensity of it. “Squeeze my cock,” he growled, slamming harder and harder into me until he found his own release.
Jass half-folded over me after, his ragged breathing heavy in my ear, his heartbeat slamming against the back of my shoulder.
But he didn’t hold me long.
He pulled out of me, tossed the condom, then stared hard at my reflection in the mirror.
“Now try to eat your fucking breakfast without thinking of my cock inside you,” he said.
And with that, and nothing more, he was gone.
Leaving me so overwhelmed by my various emotions that I didn’t even remember to pull up my panties until I heard footsteps approaching.
I managed to get them into place just as the door opened and a lady walked in, giving me a strange smile as she moved toward the stalls.
I patted some cold water on my cheeks in the hopes that it would take some of the pink away. But when that didn’t work, I had no choice but to make my way back out.
The bikers were at their table still, but my head was too ducked as I walked past to see if Jass had left or not.
“Hey, I was getting worried about you,” Patrick said as I finally made it back to the table. “You okay? You’re all red.”
“Oh, I, ah, I twisted funny,” I told him. “And my ribs almost had me on the ground in pain,” I added, not keeping eye contact as I slid into my side of the booth to see my French toast and potatoes waiting for me.
