Page 77 of What Comes Around

I clung to him just as desperately, my hands sliding around his body, pulling him closer. I lifted my knee and wrapped my leg around his hips, moaning when his large hands cupped my ass.

Heat surged through me, sharp and overwhelming, anticipation winding me tight.

“Everywhere we go,” he said against my lips, his voice thick with need, “I catch someone staring at you.”

His hand slid into my hair and yanked my head back so I had to look up at him.

“I fucking love your hair,” he murmured, threading his fingers through it. “I keep imagining it spread out on a bed while I am moving inside you.”

“We agreed this couldn’t happen again. Remember?” I whispered, pressing a kiss to his throat.

“I was trying to keep that promise. You are making it very difficult.”

I let my mouth brush his skin again. “Don’t blame me for something you want just as much.”

His body pressed into mine, pinning me in place, the hard ridge in his pants against my stomach.

He stepped back only long enough to shrug off his coat and push mine from my shoulders, kicking it away. Then his hands were back on me, sliding down my body, over my breasts, gripping my hips hard before moving lower to my thighs.

He kissed me without pause, barely breaking away to breathe. His tongue clashed with mine and his teeth caught my lower lip. I gasped into his mouth as his hands dragged my dress higher. Cold air brushed my exposed skin, then his hot palms closed around the backs of my thighs.

A rough, unguarded sound escaped him.

When I followed his gaze downward, I saw the slickness on my skin.

“Why aren’t you wearing panties?” he asked, his voice strained.

“Because you’d see the panty line through this dress.”

I cried out when he shoved two fingers inside me, thick and sudden. He pumped them in and out until my moan broke helplessly against his mouth.

Then he withdrew them only to lift me, my legs wrapping around him instinctively. I was lithe but tall, I wasn’t light, and it was incredibly sexy how easily he lifted me.

He pinned me to the door again and pressed the hard length of him, still restrained by his pants, against the most sensitive part of me. The friction sent a sharp jolt of pleasure through my body.

His hands were so big they nearly covered my entire ass as he ground into me.

I was overheated, my skin slick with sweat, my hair tangled, my mouth dry.

He licked my lips and looked at me through hooded eyes, then ground into me harder. I closed my eyes and gasped.

He was panting like he had been running.

His hand fisted in my hair again and he crashed his mouth back onto mine. I shook with the need for friction and he gave me one rough grind that made me cling to his neck.

I was drenched and desperate. When he tugged my hair sharply, pain flashed through me, mixing with pleasure until a moan slipped from my lips.

“You like it rough, don’t you?” he murmured against my mouth.

I didn’t answer with words. My fingers dug into his shoulders, my breath catching as he pulled my hair again and took my throat, sucking and biting until I gasped. My fingers dug into his back and he groaned, biting harder before licking the marks he left behind.

He ground into me again and my whole body tightened with need, my legs locking around his hips.

It was not enough.

“Fuck me,” I moaned without thinking.

He forced me to look at him. His eyes were wild, dark with hunger, frustration, and something dangerously close to possession.