Page 128 of For the Plot

She laughs as I carry her toward the back door, the frame still clutched in one hand, her shoes abandoned beneath the booth. The second the door clicks shut behind us, I pin her against the brick wall.

Not roughly but firmly. Like I need her still. Like I never stopped. Her hands cup my face, nails scraping my jaw like she’s trying to mark me with every second we waste not fucking.

I brace one hand beside her head and the other beneath her ass, holding her steady as I lean in.

“You still wreck me, Skye Blackwood.”

She smirks. “Good. I’d hate to think marriage made you soft.”

“I’m hard right now.”

Her eyes sparkle, wicked and wild. “Prove it.”

I drag my mouth down her neck, tongue tracing the edge of her collarbone as she lets out a gasp that makes my cock throb.

“No bra. No panties. You came to this bar to get ruined.”

“I came,” she whispers, “because I knew you’d take me apart.”

I growl and capture her lips, thrusting my tongue into her mouth in a kiss that borders on brutal. She moans, hips grinding against mine, dress hiked up to her hips now, bare skin against my slacks. I can feel her heat. Her slickness. She’s soaked for me already.

“You’re so fucking wet,” I murmur, sliding two fingers between her thighs. I don’t tease this time. I sink in. Deep. Rough. She claws at my shoulders.

“God— Reece?—”

“You want my cock in you, baby?” I thrust my fingers harder, curling them just right. “Or should I just make you come like this and leave you begging in a back alley?”

“You’re such a bastard,” she pants.

“You like it.”

I add a third finger. She’s tight. Pulsing. Already close.

“I could make you scream right here. Against this wall. Let anyone walking past hear how good your pussy sounds when it sucks me in.”

“Do it,” she hisses. “Make me scream.”

I yank my hand away. Her cry of frustration makes me grin.

“Not until you tell me,” I say, grabbing her chin, forcing her to look at me.

“Tell you what?”

“What forever feels like.”

She blinks, dazed.

“Tell me, Skye. Tell me how it feels to be mine. Five years later. Still dripping for me.”

She breathes hard, eyes locked on mine.

“Like this. Like you wrecking me and putting me back together in the same breath. Like every time you touch me, I remember who I am.”

I fucking lose it. I drop my slacks just enough, wrap her thighs tighter around me, and slide home in one desperate, punishing thrust. She gasps, then screams my name. And that’s all I need.

I fuck her against the wall, her dress bunched around her waist, my hand around her throat, my cock buried so deep she can’t breathe without me.

“This pussy,” I growl, thrusting hard, “is mine.”