Page 115 of Thin Lives

They could not be more stupid than they were.

But as his hands pulled her skirt up and her panties down; as he groaned against her lips when his fingers stroked her slit until she was wet and hot on his hand; as his breaths came out hard and fast against her mouth, she found she just didn’t care.

“Someone from downstairs is going to miss you,” she said along the seam of his mouth.

Calisto bit down on her lip, making her whine from the sting.

It hurt, but it felt damn good.

“He is drunk and distracted. He has an office full of Irishmen, and one of them wants his heart in a fucking pickle jar.”

Emma swallowed back the moan when Calisto’s thumb stroked her clit. “But you—”

“Slipped out. This is Connor’s show. I just wanted Ray—Connor gets Affonso. That’s our deal.”

What?

Emma wasn’t all too sure what Calisto was trying to tell her.

“I’ll give Affonso to him if I can, but I have to play by his rules,” Calisto continued, still stroking her pussy with measured, firm swipes of his fingers that already had her soaked and shaking. “And Connor really likes his mind games.”

“Calisto—”

“I don’t have a lot of time here.”

She decided to shut up.

Really, Emma didn’t have much of an option when she heard the shuffle of Calisto’s pants as he pushed the clothing down. She wished she could see a little better, but the darkness kept them both shrouded. Her senses worked on overtime as his fingers bit into her thighs, spreading her legs wider until her thighs fucking burned.

“Jesus,” Emma breathed.

“Stay quiet,” he ordered in her ear.

She nodded.

His whispered I love you was the only thing she heard when the head of his cock slid along the slickness of her slit. He flexed his hips forward, and filled her full instantly. A soft ache thrummed through her bloodstream as he stretched her open, giving her no time to adjust or prepare.

She really didn’t want it.

Emma’s one hand grabbed the edge of the counter as Calisto’s mouth found hers in the darkness again. He fucked her hard enough that the small bottles on the counter rattled, though that was the only noise between her gasping breaths and his soft whispers.

She couldn’t see him, but she didn’t need to, she realized.

His scent was everywhere.

His cock hit all of her nerve endings with each long, hard thrust.

His hands grabbed, pulled, and explored.

She had his taste in her mouth, and her body flooded with heat.

Frantic, raw, and rushed.

That’s what their fucking was.

It hurt and it relieved at the same time. Her body burned and her skin sang.

Between thrusts she begged him softly for more and harder, please.