Page 54

She shakes her head.

When I crash my mouth against hers, it’s hard and conquering, weeks of tension snapping as I overtake her, pinning one of her wrists to the bed. Maybe she was expecting it to be slow and methodical, the way she’s used to having me down in the basement. Emotionless. Detached.

Instead, she gets my teeth on her lips, my cock—hard as fucking nails—grinding into her heat. There’s a tiny punch of sound from her chest as she struggles to follow the kiss, her hips canting upward with a frustrated squirm, like she’s hoping to meet me on even ground.

If Pace hears anything at all, it’s little more than my rough panting as I reach between us to shove my boxers down, hooking two fingers into the crotch of her panties and yanking them to the side. All it takes is one crank of my hips to line my cock up to where she’s slick and waiting. It might be pitch black in here, but I can almost see the whites of her widening eyes when I enter her with a hard, powerful thrust.

My vision turns to a static buzz as the tightness engulfs me, my eyes clenched against the sudden wave of pleasure. I’m prone to categorizing things into boxes—good, better, best—so the way my toes curl when I bottom out is a point of data. The night of her cleansing barely counts, the whole experience lost in the chemical fog of dead neurons colliding.Good. The day in the stairwell was over before it really had a chance to begin.Better. This, though.Thisis my body sinking into electric warmth, her damp exhalations like fire against my jaw.

Best.

The feeling doesn’t lessen when her lips part, teeth digging notches into my shoulder. I feel the vibration of the sound she makes more than I hear it, and it makes me grunt.

I nose into the space below her ear, whispering, “Your cunt’s been soaked all day, hasn’t it?”

She shudders, a hand reaching down to grasp a tight handful of my ass. It tugs me closer, deeper, as her hips undulate against mine, seeking and desperate. I struggle against it instinctively, forcing her down with a sharp thrust. I don’t know what it is about this girl that strips me down to the barest parts, but I know that I’m desperate to beat it.

I grab her by the chin and fuck her mouth with my tongue as I crash into her. It’s how I taste the bitter edge of her little whimpers, too distracted with conquering her to realize her fingers are in my hair, loosening the tie that’s binding it up. It falls around us like a shield, and then she’s gripping it, the sting against my scalp only enhancing the ache in my balls. It takes everything in me to hold in my ragged groan—to not let Pace hear it—because suddenly she’s a liar.

She does fight back.

Her hands grip my head as she surges up to control the kiss. It only takes me aback for as long as it takes her to fuck up against me. An infuriating question lingers in the background, and I begin to wonder if this is what it was like when I was sleeping. Did she pull my hair and growl into my mouth like this? Were her nails as sharp? Was I this deranged, slamming into her like a crazed animal?

Has she already learned what I like?

It makes me meet her pull with a shove, the two of us battling for the rhythm as I thrust into her heat. She’s wild beneath me, a creature of instinct and frantic breaths. I almost forgot it could be like this, sweaty and painful and so fucking human that I don’t think twice about trailing a path down her sternum with my tongue, taking the peak of a soft breast into my mouth.

When my fingers find her clit, I’m rewarded with the sound of her fist slamming into the mattress. I flick her nipple with my tongue, back and forth, relentless and unforgiving, and rest my fingertips against her throat just to feel it swell with a scream she’ll never set free. She wanted to take it herself, but I’d never let her.

I’m the one who inflicts.

When she comes apart moments later, her body a quivering, seizing mess beneath me, I know I’ve won. I abandon her nipple for the refuge of her throat, burying my nose into her sweet scent as I fuck her limp body to my undoing. I tangle my fist into the crown of her hair and hold it too tightly as the first jolt of ecstasy takes me. I hide a grunt beneath her ear, slamming into her with a brutal thrust.

I can’t even count how many times I’ve imagined filling her pussy up with my seed. Every squirt into that specimen cup. Every deposit made down in that cold exam room. Every time I’d hear Wicker’s fevered panting in the next room as he emptied into her. Every morning I’d wake up next to her, not remembering how I got there.

Dozens, maybe even hundreds.

None of them compare to reality.

My cock swells with it, pumping her with a slickness that makes me wish I could get hard again right now. I indulge in it for so long that I don’t even realize I’m worrying her earlobe between my lips like a mindless fidget as my cock gives its last feeble twitch. Everything feels quiet and soft, the kind of simple physical contentment that can only be achieved with a good, hard fuck.

And then she begins shoving me.

“Lex, get—” Her throat clicks beneath me, a palm pushing the center of my chest. “Get off.Get off. Get off!”

I make a tight, annoyed sound as I pull out, but I barely get to roll off before she’s springing up. I hear her footsteps as she zips across the room, tripping over something with a panickedoofbefore the bathroom door slams open. The room blinks with the distant light, which I think I should probably do something about. No doubt Pace is getting an eyeful of my spent dick, knowing good and well how it got there.

Just as I’m tugging my boxers up, I hear an unmistakably wet heave.

Groaning, I give my temples a slow massage, kissing my afterglow goodbye. My legs feel like jelly as I trudge into the bathroom, finding her curled over the toilet in a sad heap. Just as I lay eyes on her, her spine bows with another retch.

My cum is dripping down her thighs.

Sighing, I snatch a rag from the shelf and begin wetting it, glaring at her reflection in the mirror. “A certain kind of guy could take that the wrong way.”

Pace is probably in stitches.

“Oh, god, when will it end,” she moans, using a trembling hand to gather her hair at the base of her neck. It tumbles back into her face as she heaves again.