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“You’ll do what, Mara?” His voice was like silk, though it wasn’t true. He was pissed. It was radiating off of him, but so was I.
I was livid.
“You fuck her, we’re done.”
He lifted his head, his nostrils flaring, and he stared at me for a minute before he took my hand, and moved me further into the dance floor. There were others around us, others that could see us, but our movements were still shadowed.
The music was covering our conversation, but it went up a whole level so normal conversation, even this close was barely audible. Cruz leaned down, his mouth right at my ear as he grated out, “Rules are that we don’t sleep with others. That’s it. That’s all.” His hand went to my hip, his fingers slowly wrapping around me.
He began moving against me, in rhythm with the music.
“What are you doing?”
His mouth moved to my ear, his hand rising up, slipping under my shirt. “You’re going to say that shit to me?” His teeth nipped my ear, pulling on my lobe. He yanked me further against him, lifting me a little so I was again almost straddling his leg. His hand slid down to my hip, and he pressed me into him. He began moving me, slow, with purpose, and it was delicious.
Heat surged through me.
His breath was caressing me. “Like I don’t know our agreement?” His mouth dipped, finding my throat.
Desire spread through me, pushing the other emotions away, overriding them.
His mouth moved to the other side of my throat, and he grasped my throat, moving my head for him. He began kissing me, sucking, and a pounding began to take over inside of me.
“You got how many fuckers hanging around you? Wanting you? Telling you they want you? And you go crazy over one girl? A puck bunny?” He lifted his head, but his hand still held my neck captive. His eyes were burning into mine. His nostrils flared again. “You think I like seeing that shit?” He was moving to the music so if anyone was watching, they’d think we were still dancing, but we were barely dancing. His hand spread out over my hip, moving to my ass, and he was lifting me, helping me grind over his leg. His head bent back down. His nose up the side of my chin, my cheek. Tingles spread out in his trail.
The need for him was building. I grasped for his arm, where she had touched him.
Fuck her. Fuck him. But my fingers pressed down, and I used that to help me climb more up him, rubbing against him as I began to take over.
He shifted, almost bouncing me up. Both of his hands were on my ass, and he was walking us somewhere. I was beyond caring, beyond caring who saw us, beyond remembering why I had cared in the first place.
God.
I was riding him and he was helping me, lifting me, until my back hit a wall. We were in a corner. There were still others by us, but I hoped the darkness was covering us because I had slipped past the point of sanity. A frenzy was in me, and I began riding him harder, then slow, and he cursed, his head bending to my neck again. He was tasting me. His leg was digging up into me. I climbed myself more up on him, and he adjusted so I was straddling him, not just his leg now.
We both stilled as we came into contact.
I almost sighed, feeling him where I needed him, where it felt right to have him there.
This. Him and me. This was our deal, no one else’s. Just him and me.
He pushed me back against the wall, a hand on my shoulder, and he raised his head to glare at me. His eyes were burning right back at me. “You want this?” His other hand went between us, pushing down into my leggings and finding where I was wet. His finger slid inside, and I bit my lip, almost mewling. That felt so fucking good.
He thrust in. A slow drag out of me, and back in. He was drawing it out, until I was panting. My chest was lifting up and down. “Cruz,” I whispered. I reached for his hand, but I didn’t know if I was going to help him or stop him. I did neither, I only held it as he tunneled once more into me. His hand moved and a second finger joined inside of me, shoving deep, and holding. His thumb went to my clit. He could make me come, right here, right now. I was helpless to stop him, my body screaming for him to keep going, but he held.
“Cruz.” I reached for his neck with my other hand, my hips moving, trying to ride his fingers. I needed release.
