Page 75 of Nocturnes & Nightmares

“Good girl.” Pressing his knee against my thigh, he spreads my legs as far as the skirt will allow, still pinning me against the wall. Kissing along my jaw, he drags the tip down to my entrance and pauses there, circling it against my flesh, teasing me. My belly is tight with anticipation, my hands balled into fists against the wall at either side of me. “I want to watch you come all over this,” he whispers and pushes the stopper up into me.

I gasp against his palm at the unexpected pleasure of the ribs rubbing along my walls, and flex my fingers in an effort to hold onto something. The ridges of the stopper add just enough friction to each glide, and I can’t help but moan at the delicious intrusion.

No, it’s wrong. This isn’t romantic, it’s dirty and humiliating, and I tell myself not to be lured by such wicked pleasures my mother always referred to as carnal and unbecoming when she talked to me about sex.

“It should be pure and discreet, and only between two people who love each other,” she often said.

Yet, in seconds, I’m panting against his hand, struggling to keep upright, as the wet sounds betray my resistance. A slap in my mother’s face, as my body shivers with each new thrust.

“Listen to that. All your morals falling down. Fucking music to my ears.” There’s an edge of excitement to his words, a shaky quality in his voice, as he ups the pace, breathing hard against my throat, like he’s the one getting off. “Don’t you come, Star Wars. You wouldn’t want to lose the bet.”

I moan again, my whole body warring against itself, as he strings me along toward climax.

With every plunge, there’s an awareness that I have no chance of winning this, as the stopper becomes increasingly slick from my juices.

“I’m going to fuck you after this. Because I can’t stand the thought of not being inside you for one more minute. I’m going to fuck you hard, Nola. And something tells me you’ll like it,” he says through clenched teeth.

Another ripple of ecstasy winds down my spine, and as I slide against the wall, he presses into me, urging me back up.

“No, no. Not until you come.” He tugs the stopper out of me and sucks it clean, before reinserting it. “You taste so good.” His voice is more ragged, before his tongue curls around my nipple.

I arch, crying out, as he sucks and flicks and bites, moaning against my flesh.

Every part of me begs to reject such an arrogant assumption that I’d enjoy rough sex with him, but I can’t. Not after he’s already proven me wrong.

Gripping his arm for support, I feel the ball of muscle beneath his skin, the tension running thick through him, telling me he has no intentions of giving in.

I’m deliriously close to climax, so much so, I feel drunk, and when he plunges one last time, my whole body squirms and shudders as a rush of tingles explodes through my muscles. All I can do is mewl against his palm like a trapped little kitten who’s fallen prey to the lion.

“That’s it, baby. That’s what I want to hear.”

When my gaze shifts to his, there’s a knowing smile on his face, but without all the smugness. He looks pleased. And for reasons I can’t wrap my head around in the moment, I like that. We stare at each other, only the sound of our stuttering breaths filling the quiet between us. I watch the way the muscles in his biceps and chest flex and tighten while he finishes me. Ruins me in ways I wasn’t anticipating. How his chest rises and falls quickly with panting breaths that match my own. As if the two of us are completely in sync.

His eyes are hard and concentrated, a thunderstorm that I want to sweep me away. He leans forward, kissing me as he pushes the stopper in and leaves it there. “Get on the bed. Now.”

I do as he says, awkwardly hobbling along as the evidence of my arousal trickles down my thighs and the stopper reminds me of why. Midway onto the bed, I turn to see him staring at me in the mirror’s reflection. Ass propped, I can see everything—including the glistening bare skin with the wine stopper sticking out of me that betrays every morally questionable thought I’ve had so far.

Voss moans, and I catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye.

He strokes himself with eyes rapt on me, giving me the perfect view of his fully erect cock sticking up from his muscled thighs. “Beautiful, isn’t it? How can a man not want to fuck that?”

Shrinking into myself, I study the width of the mirror’s reflection and there’s no hiding from it. “I can’t do this. Not if I have to watch myself the whole time.”

“What’s wrong with watching yourself?”

“It’s just … weird.”

“Out of your comfort zone.”

“Way out. Like … across the galaxy.”

“Well, that’s the point, Star Wars.” He yanks my legs, and my body slides across the mattress until my ass slams into his thighs. “Hands behind your back.”

Knees still weak and muscles warm with fresh climax, I do as he says, and when I hear the tearing of foil, I know this thing between us has only just begun. Lifting my head off the bed, I watch the reflection of him rolling a condom down his shaft.

In the next breath, he buries his face in my ass, and I jerk forward to get away. My God, the idea of his face there is mortifying. My stomach curls with embarrassment as he holds me still, his fingers digging into my hips as he licks my most forbidden place.

“Voss! Wait … please.”