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You’re an idiot and will regret this.
What was that last part my brain was saying?
The frenzy in his touch drives me to move my hands inside his shirt, and his body, cool as steel, is sculpted with lean muscle. I want him inside me. The thought is dangerously exciting and very off-limits. I feel the ache inside me, hungry for him to fill me and take me to places that previously only existed in my wildest imagination, one that never involved him.
“You’re such a fucking tease, Malone. You know that?”
“I don’t tease, you’re just greedy and can’t help yourself.”
“Maybe you’re right,” he tells me, running his teeth along my lobe.
I can’t even hold a conversation here, not when his hands move into my dress and are squeezing my breasts in a desperate plea. His constant rub against my nipples is driving me insane, and I am this close to stripping in the cool night air, so he can suck on them like the hungry beast he is.
I lose my train of thought and giggle. Fueled by the alcohol, I struggle to stop making my skin feeling so highly sensitive with every flick of his tongue. He lets me go, and my laughter stops. He produces a silver foil packet, and my body tenses immediately. Is this really happening? There is no turning back.
Back away right now, Presley!
My pathetic pleas are soon forgotten as he slams his lips against mine while fiddling with his belt buckle.
He is off-limits.
Think of the consequences. The office will go into gossip overdrive if this ever leaked.
You’re giving him what he wants.
Unless, of course, you make this about what you want.
What the hell do I want?
I want to be lost in a moment, drowning in ecstasy, reminded why I gave up everything I had worked so hard for, and roll around in the green, green grass that is supposed to be on the other side.
But reality knocks me out cold, and in the distance, the noise of the night traffic becomes apparent. Even then, the tearing of the packet is the only sound I focus on.
I can tell him to stop.
You don’t want him to stop, just admit it.
“Relax, I’ll make you forget he ever existed.”
He enters me as I fight for air. His entire cock is buried inside, leaving me breathless as my body adjusts to his size. I close my eyes, focusing on the sensations rather than making eye contact with him. A part of me knows I will regret this once I’m sober.
Something feels different—odd, yet arousing. He takes his time, easing in and out, but even then, I sense his struggle. He wants it rough. He wants to fuck me like a jackrabbit. Wasn’t that what he said? Knowing that he is desperate to unleash his savage desire, I open my eyes and focus on his face. His eyes have met mine, and something odd passes between us. It’s a silent agreement that this is a one-time release, a tension fuck, and both of us have our reasons for doing it.
He wants me to forget Jason.
And all I’m thinking is Jason who?
With my face in his hands, he thrusts inside me in sync with the roll of his tongue as I moan helplessly into his mouth, unfamiliar with the pressure down below. It climbs so fast I feel possessed in my own skin.
“Is this more?” he grunts in my ear, plunging deeper into me. The jagged edge of the brick wall is scratching my skin.
I’m barely able to string a sentence together. “More what?”
He slows down, easing in and out at a teasing pace. “You wanted more, is this the more you wanted?”
I have no idea what he is talking about due to the bottle of wine, and God knows how many other drinks I had at the bar. It clicks a few moments later, and like my conscience has been freed from wearing handcuffs, there is a moment of clarity, and all I can see is Jason’s face.
“I can’t… I can’t do this,” I mumble.
