Page 20 of Overruled

It’s always been frantic with Ezra, this thing between us.

Every time I’ve ever touched him, it’s felt like some race to a faraway finish line.

Like a short burst of something with an inevitable end.

And that frenetic energy is still there when my arms wind around his neck, when his hands cup my face as if he might somehow pull me impossibly closer—but that finish line seems…

more distant at this moment. Less of a race.

For once, it feels like it’s okay to just take my time.

I know that later I will pick apart that feeling, analyze it until my head hurts, but right now…Right now I let myself focus on the warmth of his mouth against mine, on the weight of his hands as they slide down my throat before roving over the front of my dress.

“Remember when I said you looked nice in this dress?”

It’s hard to think with his tongue dipping past my lips, but I do my best. “Yeah?”

“I lied.” I barely have time to process if he’s insulting me or not, because his arm wraps around me, molding me to the front of him before one heavy palm cups my ass through my dress. “You look fucking beautiful.”

I make that sound again, the embarrassing one, but I don’t feel a scrap of embarrassment, miraculously.

My head falls back as his lips wander, down my jaw and my neck and lower still as his tongue lightly flicks at my clavicle, which peeks out over the neckline of my dress.

Distantly I register the sound of the lock clicking on the bathroom door, and even more distantly I know this should be setting off alarm bells, that I should be pulling away, but I don’t do any of that.

I can’t physically make myself pull away from him.

I gasp when he spins me, pushing me against the vanity and smoothing his hands over my hips as his lips brush along my shoulder.

His voice is low, making me shiver. “Do you know how crazy you make me?” His fingertips tease at the hem of my skirt, drawing it upward slowly.

“I haven’t been able to think about anything else but the way your skin feels since the first time I touched you. ”

“Ezra—”

Whatever I’d been about to say morphs into a moan when his fingers curl over my thigh to slide over the fabric of my underwear, teasing my slit through the material. “Already wet,” he sighs. “Always so fucking wet for me. Even when you pretend to hate me, your body can’t lie.”

I should be telling him to fuck off, or at least, I think I should—it’s hard to think when he presses his hard length against my ass, thrusting slightly as he continues to trace a slow back-and-forth over my underwear.

“Tell me how you want me,” he breathes against my ear, his teeth nipping the lobe. “I’ll give you anything you want if you tell me, Dani.”

Tell him you don’t want anything. Tell him that you—

“Hard,” I rasp. “I want to feel it tomorrow.”

“Perfect,” he groans, tongue tracing the shell of my ear. “You’re fucking perfect.”

I feel his palm flatten against my spine as he bends me over the vanity, and vaguely I recognize the ruffling sounds of him digging in his pockets, catching sight of his wallet from the mirror as he pulls out a familiar foil packet.

I manage to cock a brow at his reflection, but the sarcasm is lost to the throaty tone of my voice. “Someone was confident.”

“Just wishful thinking,” he says with a lazy smile. I almost swallow my tongue as I watch him rip the packet open with his teeth before he spits the excess foil away. “Always wishful thinking when it comes to you.”

I have to avert my eyes just to try to slow the racing of my heart, but I can hear everything.

The metal grinding of his zipper as he slides it down.

The crinkling of foil as he removes the condom.

The soft sound he makes as he slides it on.

It’s almost worse somehow. Hearing it without seeing it.

It means my head is full of nothing but him.

I bite my lip as he shoves my dress over my hips, bite it harder when he drags my underwear down to let them pool around my ankles before I toe them away—and where there should be discomfort at him pausing to stare at me, to take me in, strangely I find there is only pure thrill from the almost tangible vibration of raw need I can sense from him. It almost matches mine.

“Fuck, Dani,” he mumbles, his fingers pressing against me before slipping inside with one fluid movement. “Look at you. You’re soaked.”

I wait for the embarrassment to come, but still it doesn’t.

“Do something about it,” I whisper harshly.

I hear his soft chuckle, and I gasp when his lips press gently against the curve of my ass as he twists his fingers deeper inside me. “You want me to fuck you? Right here?”

Really? We’re playing this game right now? With me bent over my parents’ guest bathroom vanity while his cock is wrapped up and ready to go?

“I swear to God, if you don’t— fuck .”

My head lolls forward at the loss of his fingers, a whine lingering in my chest when I feel something thicker, hotter pressing against me instead.

He eases inside slowly, letting me feel every inch, and not for the first time I wonder how it can possibly be so good every time.

How every time with Ezra is somehow better than the last. It’s always been infuriating.

“This what you need?” His palm rests against the base of my spine, rubbing soothing circles there as he sinks deeper, bottoming out. “Did you need my cock, Dani?”

My mouth falls open when he draws back just to rock back inside, the friction of it making me tingle all over and making it impossible to lie. “ Yes .”

“Fuck, you feel good,” he groans, thrusting into me again with a little more force. “Always so hot and tight and perfect. How is it so fucking perfect?”

I don’t have the answer for that. Hell, I can barely formulate a coherent thought right now.

I should probably be concerned about where we are, that at any moment another party guest could come knocking on this door and discover us here, but somehow that only makes everything feel all the more delicious.

What we’re doing is nonsensical, it’s ludicrous , it’s the most un-Dani thing I’ve ever done in my life.

I have no idea why that thought has me flying .

“Harder,” I manage, my voice sounding too rough.

His hand grips my hip, pulling me back onto his cock in a rough jolt that has the sound of skin on skin ringing throughout the small space.

Every thrust hits me just right, the weight of his cock dragging across that place inside that pulls that embarrassing sound from me over and over again.

It’s still frantic, still a rush, but it’s also… different. Or maybe it’s just me.

He stops suddenly, making me whine for another reason. I’m opening my mouth to protest, when I feel his hand sliding up my front until his palm can grip my jaw again, forcing my head up as my eyes fly open to find him watching me over my shoulder.

“I want your eyes this time,” he murmurs, his fingers holding my chin so that I can’t look away.

“I want you to watch me make you come. I want you to know it’s me doing this to you.

” I suck in a breath when he starts to move again, slowly.

“I don’t want you lying to yourself for one more fucking second about how badly you want this. ”

He snaps his hips, and I watch in the mirror as my mouth widens in a gasp.

I suddenly wish I could see more of him—hungrily taking in the sharp definition of his wide chest as it strains across his T-shirt, letting my eyes track the corded vein running down his arm as he holds me tight, keeping me still so that I have to take everything he gives me.

Everything I want from him, if I’m being honest with myself.

“That’s it.” His thumb slides over my bottom lip to press against my tongue, and a moan tumbles out of him when I instinctively close my mouth to suck it deeper.

“Look how well you’re taking me.” Another sharp thrust that pushes me deeper into the vanity.

“You want this just as much as I do, don’t you? ”

My eyes try to drift closed, but a sharp smack across my ass has them going wide.

“I said I want your eyes,” he reminds me. “You’re going to watch yourself come on my cock.”

I can feel that steady pulse building deep inside, a race of a different kind.

I whimper around his thumb when his hand slides over my hip to force my thighs wider, his fingers gliding over my already swollen clit to rub a slow pattern that builds and builds with every frantic thrust inside me.

I can only do what he says, can only take it, only watch myself take it—and there’s a rush coursing through me that seems to thrum beneath my skin, building to a crescendo that feels like it might be devastating.

“ Ezra. Ezra, I’m—”

“Come for me,” he begs hoarsely, his fingers working my clit expertly with just the right amount of pressure. “ Please .”

“Fuck. Fuck. ”

The desire to shut my eyes is strong, so strong that I have to make a conscious effort to keep them open, but if I’m being honest with myself…

I want to see. I want to see what Ezra looks like when he takes me apart like this.

I want to see if he looks as wrecked as I feel.

My body starts to tremble as my orgasm washes over me like a wave; I feel it in my toes and my head and everywhere else.

There’s a hazy quality to his green eyes that is captivating, and they stay locked with mine in the mirror even as a hiss escapes him when I start to come undone.