knew without asking he wanted to fuck the hell out of me, until every frustrated muscle in his body felt sweet relief, and we collapsed together.
His hands slid down over my ass, under my skirt. I wore a pink lace thong—bought in the hours before I headed to the airport for my flight, anticipating the moment we came together again—and when his fingers slide across that tiny triangle-shaped fabric he groaned huskily. I kissed him, my tongue slipping deeper into his mouth.
His fingers slid against my ass, slipping into the spot where my thighs met my backside.
And then he was lifting me. Wrapping my legs around his waist. At this angle, with the soft fabric of his pants, the tip of his dick prodded against me. Hard and relentless.
“This is your last chance,” he said, gruffly. “Say the word, and you go. Because in thirty seconds, I am going to fuck the hell out of you, and once I start, I won’t be able to stop.”
Heat shot through me, and I knew I was wet. Ready. Panting for him, for the promise in his tone. The knowledge that his restraint was gone, that I was giving up all control to him—made it hard to breathe.
“I want you,” I said simply.
In response, he ripped my panties in both hands, snapping the delicate band that had been around my hips. I gasped, and he covered up the sound with his hand. Silencing me.
My underwear fell to the floor, my skirt riding up my hips.
One hand on my mouth, he used the other on his pants, shoving them off and then cupping my ass. Lining me up “I’m not going easy on you,” He said, his hand still over my mouth. As if we’d crossed the threshold, and it was no longer my choice.
And that was the truth. I’d given myself over to him. I was held three feet of the ground, my skirt shoved up to my waist, pinned to the door. His dick teased along my opening, and I knew we’d passed the point that he had any sense left. His chest heaved, rising and falling as he struggled with the last bit of restraint he had left.
I’d walked into the lion’s den, and I was the lamb. He was somewhere else tonight. His head was in a place of pain and anger, and he was going to lose himself in this, going to fuck me until all those angry, bitter thoughts were lost in the heat of the moment.
I leaned back against the door, bracing myself. And then he thrust inside me, hard. Rough. Unforgiving. My ass slammed into the door and I gasped at that force of it. At the pressure inside me. At this angle, he was plunged to the hilt, his hips grinding into mine.
But he didn’t give me time for a breath, for relief. He pulled back and only fucked harder. He grunted, growling my name as he thrust into me, as I slammed against the door again and again.
I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, clinging to him. I had no control over this—had given it up when I walked through that door—and could only wrap my legs around him and pant for breath as he plunged in and out, harder and faster than I would’ve thought possible.
He leaned down, biting at my neck. A sharp pain as his teeth bore down on me. I gripped his shirt in my hands, gasping, panting, unable to catch my breath.
It was too much and not enough all at once. He filled me, stretched me in an almost painful way, and I wanted more.
“God you’re fucking tight,” he said, between heaving breaths.
“Don’t stop,” I said, breathless as he smashed me against the door, again and again. I let go of his shoulders long enough to yank my tank top over my head, exposing my bare breasts.
He groaned when he realized I wasn’t wearing a bra, leaning down and pulling my breast into his mouth. Sucking and biting my nipple, another spike of pain and pleasure twisted through me.
“Harder,” I said, though I didn’t think it was possible. He was thrusting into me so hard, so deep, it felt like he could split me in two. It felt as if my inner thighs would be bruised tomorrow from his hips digging into them.
“You want more?” he said, biting hard on my nipple.
I twisted my hand into his hair, yanking at a fistful.
“Harder,” I repeated.
He thrust once, twice, three times