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The friction changed, just as my body was coiling up, preparing to orgasm purely from over the clothes grinding.
Then again, this was Lance, I was sure if he looked at me the right way, my womb would explode—in the good way, of course.
He was walking us somewhere. The bedroom, presumably. That was too far away.
I yanked my head back, my eyes met his. “I need your cock inside me. Now.” My voice was a husky rasp, unrecognizable.
Lance stopped walking immediately. His entire face turned. Eyes darkened until they were an abyss, welcoming me, owning me.
With only that second of beautiful hesitation, Lance moved. Not toward the bedroom, but down. My back hit the floor and I barely noticed it, because Lance immediately started undressing me. He did it fast. There was none of that kissing every part of my body that I read about countless heroes doing in romance novels I consumed sporadically.
Because Lance wasn’t a hero right now.
He wasn’t going to make love to me like a hero.
He was going to fuck like a villain.
I wanted the villain.
And that’s what I got.
Me, completely naked, my clothes in ruins around me, Lance, almost completely fully dressed, surging into me as soon as his cock was free from his jeans.
I came the second he settled himself inside me.
He did not stop. Did not slow down as I screamed with pleasure that melted my bones. No. He kept moving inside me. Brutally. His forehead pressed to mine, eyes open, holding mine captive in a silent command to not look away. It was the single most erotic thing in my life, having an orgasm that I’d never even known existed while staring at the eyes of a man who was unlike anything I’d ever experienced.
He didn’t say a word. Not through my first orgasm. Or my second.
Or his.
Not that I’d expected him to. This was a man who used silence as the most powerful weapon in his arsenal—well, one of them anyway—so it made complete sense he used it with sex too.
But I didn’t long for words from him. I didn’t need them. Not with him on top of me, inside me.
I didn’t need them when I ripped off the rest of his clothes and rode him a few minutes later either.
We were saying everything that needed to be said without uttering a single word.
Chapter Twenty-One
“So, how was it?” Karen demanded.
I blinked at her. “What?”
“The sex.”
My body jerked in surprise. “What sex?”
She rolled her eyes. “The sex you’ve been having all night, by the looks of it.” She raised her brow as I opened my mouth to lie—badly—some more. “Honey, I know what a well-fucked woman looks like.”
She had me there.
“So,” she probed. “How was the sex?”
I didn’t talk about my sex life with Karen. Not because I was some kind of prude. But because, until this day, I had no sex life to speak of. Karen spoke plenty about her and Eliza. Enough to make up for my lack of sex talk.
I had planned on telling her about Lance, at some point. I’d only just stumbled out of the sex haze he’d put me in. No, that was a lie, I was still firmly in the sex haze, but I was now able to form words that weren’t ‘more,’ ‘harder’ or various profanities that I didn’t even know that I knew.
We had obviously stopped having sex on the living room floor yesterday, gotten dressed just in time for Nathan to come barreling through the door, talking about how football was his new favorite sport and he was going to be a football-playing superhero when he grew up.
I focused on Nathan for the rest of the evening. Or tried my very best. Because Lance tortured me the entire evening. The way he ran his finger over the bare skin of my shoulder as I was cooking us dinner. He kissed the back of my neck when Nathan was doing his homework.
His hand caressed my ass as I was doing the dishes.
Yeah, torture.
And the second Nathan was in bed, asleep, we were also in bed, definitely not asleep.
I didn’t even remember falling asleep.
I definitely remembered waking up, because it had been with Lance’s cock inside me.
Then, after cleaning me up—we hadn’t so much as had the pill conversation, other than Lance telling me he knew I was on it and that he was taking me bare, I obliged—kissing me lightly on the forehead, he left my bedroom because he knew that Nathan most likely would be coming in to wake me up.
We did not speak.
Not all morning. But there had been more sly touches. Touches that were a promise.
I had the late shift. Lance was taking Nathan to school. He kissed me when Nathan was brushing his teeth.
He kissed me goodbye and hello all at the same time.
