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His eyes went feral, and he yanked me from the balcony.
He half-carried me, half-dragged me through the door, down a hallway, through another door, and everything else went silent. It was just him and me.
The door slammed shut. The light was left off, and my back was shoved against the wall.
His mouth hit mine—hot, persistent, demanding.
Oh, damn. Damn.
I was drugged. I was drunk. I wasn’t thinking clearly. Pure, blind, unbridled hunger took over as he lifted me.
My legs wound around his waist.
His hands were under my shirt, pushing it up.
Our mouths were battling, devouring each other.
I went to his pants, reaching in, and closed around him.
He stilled, his forehead leaning against mine. He said under his breath, “Fuck. Fuck.”
Right. I was there with him.
“Fuck. Rams—” He squirmed as I smoothed up and down, my thumb running over his tip. His forehead went to the wall beside me, his shoulders began to shake, and he breathed out heavily. A deep pant.
I kept going, squeezing, pumping. He growled as he batted my hand away. “Scou—”
He pulled me from the wall, turned me around, and was on my back in the next second. His heat against mine. We both paused at the contact, right before a second growl erupted from him.
He kicked my feet wide, making room, then ran his hands up the outsides of my legs.
I was squirming now.
He breathed in, right in my ear, “How does that feel?”
I moaned, starting to turn around.
“No,” he clipped out before nipping at my ear.
A shiver went down my neck and spine, but he pulled my pants down and was cupping me from behind.
His thumb moved to my clit as two fingers sank in.
He went hard and fast, not giving me time to adjust. He began pumping like I’d been pumping him. This was tit for tat.
A savage sound came from me as I tried to shove away from the wall.
I didn’t want it this way. I wanted to sink down on him. I wanted both of us to come together, but this felt different.
Scout was different. More alpha. More primal.
He wanted to dominate.
I couldn’t handle it.
I’d be stripped down, needing, feeling raw and he’d indulge how he seemed fit. He’d have all the power. The control.
He wasn’t giving me a choice, his fingers kept thrusting in until I gaped, plastered completely against the wall because my knees were knocking. I was going to fall down.
“Scout,” I choked out, just as my knees gave away and a climax ripped through me.
He moved in, catching me, his fingers helping to lift me off my feet. He held me in place, letting me rest completely against him as my entire body was shaking, trembling.
He waited until the waves faded, then pressed a kiss to my neck and growled, “My turn.”
I was turned around, my legs whipped up. He barked, “Wrap.”
I wrapped them around his waist.
“Lock.”
I locked my ankles.
He slid inside, pushing all the way to the hilt. He paused for one second before he gripped my waist, tipping my hips a bit, and then he was fucking me.
So deep. In and out. He was rough. Almost frenzied.
I was going to climax again. I felt the release starting, waiting, holding, building.
I could only hold on to his shoulders.
I exploded, a strangled scream poured out of me right before his mouth slammed back on mine. He drank me up, and he released right after, his whole body sagging against mine. He continued to hold me up, waiting until both of our pulses slowed.
“Fuck,” he breathed against me, his fingers sinking into my skin before he pushed back, letting my feet drop.
He sighed. “Fight’s almost done, I bet.”
I frowned as we began fixing our clothing. “Sorry?”
He laughed, flashing me a short grin.
God. He was hot when he was pissed off, but that smile transformed his whole face. He was stunning, reminding me of the first time I saw him smile. I liked it. I wanted to see it more.
He got suddenly serious, straightening up. His hand fell from his hair back to his side.
“What?” I asked, straightening too.
“You think we should talk about this?” He motioned between us.
My mouth dried up. “No.”
He frowned. “No? We’re fucking almost every other day.”
I reached past him, my hand closing over the door handle. “I like fucking you. Why would you want that to stop?”
“Rams—”
I wasn’t listening as I opened the door and breezed past him.
I liked what we were doing.
I liked not thinking.
I liked that he could make me feel good, chase away the demons.
I didn’t want to lose that.
Still, I couldn’t ignore the little spark of doubt and fear that took root in me because, if he brought it up once, he’d bring it up again. That was how Scout was. He didn’t hide from something, instead he was like a bull, literally charging at it head on.
