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I tried to pull my hand away, but he didn’t let me.
Instead of tussling with him—a fight I knew I would lose—I glared at him.
“Don’t get pissy with me because I stopped you from committing murder in the middle of the day,” I said. “I don’t need your attitude, because I didn’t do shit to you.”
“Didn’t do shit to me?” he said, seeming unable to believe what I had just said.
“No, I didn’t,” I responded, unwilling to back down.
Enzo tightened his grip on my hand and dragged me into the alley.
And I followed.
Not because I was scared—but because I wasn’t.
And that was the problem.
He pushed me back against the wall—but before I could get disgusted, he pressed his body against mine, letting me feel the weight of his heavy hardness.
“You call this nothing?” His voice was low, guttural, just this side of a grunt.
“Enzo…” I said as he pushed me against the wall. I was supposed to sound firm, but I was putty in Enzo’s hands,
And he knew it.
It didn’t matter that we were in an alley.
It didn’t matter that he’d almost beat someone to death.
All that mattered was that Enzo was here with me now.
All that mattered was that he wanted me just as much as I wanted him.
He kissed my neck as he kneaded my breasts, leaving my nipples hard little points that screamed for him. I wanted him inside me.
Now.
My pussy leaked and clenched with the need to be filled.
Enzo worked his pants open, his action sure, steady as he entered me.
“Enzo,” I said on a tortured cry as he pumped into me, his long thrusts sending me inching up the wall.
I came hard, fast, unexpectedly, and Enzo was not even a second behind, his cum filling me until he pulled out and released two long spurts on my thighs.
When he was done, he kissed me—hard, rough, just like he’d fucked me.
“I hope that was better than the balloon animals,” he said.
EIGHT
Enzo
She didn’t sayanything during the walk home, and I didn’t either.
Had no fucking idea what to say anyway.
All of this was new to me.