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Faster.
Harder.
Taking damn near every inch of me with each thrust.
As my moans got louder and louder, his hand on my neck pulled me until my face was against his chest, my mouth pressed to his warm skin, muffling the sounds as he drove me closer and closer, then down and through the orgasm that seemed to start at the base of my spine and explode outward, overtaking me completely.
“Fuck.” Salvatore’s growl was what made the post-orgasm daze, making me realize he was still hard and thick inside of me. “Again,” he said with a wicked smirk as he started to move inside of me once more.
Slow.
Borderline gentle.
Like he knew my body needed a chance to rekindle the desire.
His hand held the side of my face again, his intense gaze holding mine.
“You need to see this too,” he said, and I didn’t really understand his intention until he was grabbing my hips, pulling me down off the counter, then slipping out of me so he could turn me so I could watch our reflection.
Only then did his cock slide back inside of me, the new angle making my desire come back with a fury, my sex clenching him as he settled deep.
“See?” he asked as one arm went around my midsection, and the other held my jaw, forcing me to look at myself when my first instinct was to look away. “Fucking gorgeous,” he said, then started to fuck me before I could have any sort of reaction to that declaration.
In that moment, seeing myself as he did—cheeks flushed, eyes full of heat—I had to admit I was seeing a version of myself I’d never seen before.
But before I could even get used to that thought, though, my body was being driven up hard and fast.
Salvatore’s hand slid between my thighs, engaging my clit as he continued to fuck me.
“Fuck, yeah, baby, come around my cock,” he hissed as my walls tightened, as I felt myself start to come.
The moan started to escape me, silenced only by Salvatore’s hand slapping over my mouth, muffling the sounds of my orgasm as it slammed through me.
He fucked me through it, milking it for all it was worth before wrapping me up tight, so tight it was almost hard to breathe, holding me against his chest as he slammed deep and found his own release.
Afterward, his forehead slammed into my shoulder as he let out a tight, “Shit.”
Was that regret?
A sharp sensation stabbed through my center at the very idea.
But then his head turned, and his lips pressed a soft kiss to my neck before he moved away from me, and I was pretty sure it was safe to assume that a man who regretted fucking you didn’t sweetly kiss you before moving away.
I mean, yeah, it had been a while, but still. In my experience, guys who wanted casual didn’t do soft and sweet.
By the time I finished rebuttoning my uniform, Salvatore had dealt with the condom, buttoned up, and was washing his hands.
When my gaze slid to his, he shot me a sexy little smirk as he tucked my panties into his back pocket.
“I have a shift to do still!” I objected, caught between shock, amusement, and a little bit of hope.
“Gonna have to do it without your panties on. Bet you’ll think about me each time you feel a breeze up your skirt,” he added, chuckling.
I was pretty sure I’d be thinking of him every damn second, actually. But experience told me that those were the private kinds of thoughts that you didn’t share with new men in your life.
“Go on,” he encouraged when I just stood there, not sure what to do or say. “I’ll head back out at an inconspicuous time,” he added.
Checking my reflection, I was a little worried that my face was too flushed and my eyes a bit too alive, but at least my uniform was situated right and my hair was mostly in order.
