wall and lines himself up. He tugs at my hair, looking into my eyes, and he pushes inside my wet body full throttle, my walls clinging to him. It’s a tight fit and we both gasp, our chests heaving in the silence as the fullness of him settles in. My back presses into the wall, feeling the pressure of a framed picture that’s hanging there, and I ignore it because shit, nothing matters but this.
“So goddamn good,” he says in a gravelly voice when he slides out and then right back in again as if he can’t resist giving me every inch.
“Yes,” I gasp, and I don’t even know this wild creature I’ve become. I don’t know anything but this feeling, this sensation, this man.
The sounds of our sex and our breathing are loud, and I don’t care. I kiss him hard, grinding my lips against his, and he kisses me back, like he needs me to breathe, like he might die without the taste of my lips. He puts his fingers on my clit and rotates, taking me with long strokes, as if he knows my body so damn well, and I tighten around him and fall over the edge into shards of lightning and stardust. I groan, my body stiffening and reeling as I arch forward, the orgasm lingering as he pumps into me, swiveling his hips like a man who’s fucked against a wall a million times. He presses my hands above my head and owns me with his dick, sliding in and out. He gives me everything and it isn’t pretty or sweet, but it’s perfect. He shouts and goes over the edge, pumping and twitching inside me.
Seconds pass and only the sound of our deep breaths breaks the silence. My legs unravel themselves from his waist and settle on the floor. He leans down to gaze at me, his hands on the wall on either side of my face. “Fuck. That was…” He stops and swallows.
Yeah.
My cheeks feel red and I rub my face, taking in gulps of air.
Breathing just as heavily, he takes a step back. I watch as he takes the condom off and tosses it in the trash. “You doing okay there, babe?”
Babe.
“Yeah.” No time to even address that. I push the feelings that word evokes down and shake my head, my fingers raking through my hair, trying to find my headband, but it’s long gone. I’m darting around, grabbing my clothes from the floor.
He’s quiet, watching me. “Hey, did I misread your signals?”
I look up at him. “No, no, you didn’t.” I don’t elaborate. Honestly, I can’t even process what just happened.
I manage to fix my bra and get my underwear back on. My sweatshirt and leggings are next.
“Then why are you running off?” He straightens his shirt and adjusts his jeans, zipping them up.
“I’m not. It’s late and I have to get up early.” My voice quivers and I cough, trying to hide my…nervousness?
He watches me shove my boots back on. “Come home with me.”
“More sex?” My mouth opens. I’m not sure my heart can take it.
“Maybe, maybe not. I might have to fuck you in my car before we get there.” His words are silky, promising another round of incredible sex, and he gives me a heavy-lidded, expectant look, as if he knows I’m going to say yes and he’s just waiting to hear it.
There’s a long pause in the room as we stare at each other.
You know you want to, baby, his eyes say.
You don’t know me, mine say.
Yet there’s another conversation in my head, one I don’t let him see, where I debate going home with him and losing myself in his arms.
But Bennett pops up in my mind, an image of him with girls fighting to get to him on stage. It’s not like Zack is my boyfriend—as if—but part of me is smart enough to know that going with him is playing with fire. Zack Morgan is an inferno that will burn me up. There’s something about him that makes me lose my breath. And that…that must not be allowed.
“I—I can’t. I don’t know you. I’m not sure I like you.” It’s a little blunt, but I think he’s the kind of guy who appreciates the truth, and I’m not one to lie.
He pauses and wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand, his brow going low. “I see.”
But he doesn’t. He looks pissy.
Maybe he’s never been turned down for a second round.