Page 26

“No.”

Her jaw tightens. Her eyes drop to my mouth for half a second and come back up, and that half a second is all I need to know how this ends.

“I’m still angry,” she says.

“Good,” I say. “I’m still impressed.”

She grabs my collar.

I don’t know who moves first and it doesn’t matter. One second, we’re nose to nose and the next she’s up, legs locked around my waist, back hitting the wall hard enough that the air goes out of her. I get her skirt shoved up, yank my cock out through the zip, drag her underwear to the side, and push in.

No buildup. All the way in, one stroke, and she’s so wet I bottom out immediately and the heat of her wraps around me so tight my vision whites out for a second. She makes a sound against my neck she’d never make sober, and I feel every inch of her gripping me, slick and hot, and I start moving.

Hard. First thrust drives her back into the wall.

“You absolute brute,” she breathes.

“You love it,” I say.

She bites my shoulder. I go harder, and she pulls my hair with both hands, yanking my head back.

“That all you’ve got?” she says.

I squeeze her ass tight enough to leave marks and drive up into her so deep she loses whatever she was about to say next.

“Still talking,” I say.

“Still crude,” she gasps, and her voice breaks because I pull back and drive forward hard. She wasn’t ready.

I get my hand around her throat, just enough to feel her pulse going insane under my palm. She grabs my hair again, squeezes her ass, and goes harder. She swears, really swears, words I didn’t know she had, vulgar and hot and aimed straight at me.

“Such a mouth on you,” I say.

“Fuck you,” she says.

“You are,” I say.

She bites my jaw. I squeeze her throat slightly, thrust deep, hold it there, and feel her clench around me hard.

“You’re a bastard,” she breathes.

“Da,” I say against her ear. “Yours.”

She makes a sound that’s got nothing to do with insults and drags her nails down my back, and I feel it through my shirt, and I go harder for it. Every stroke I can feel how wet she is, hear it, the sounds filling the room and neither of us giving a damn.

I don’t pull out. I turn, walk backward with her still on me, and when the back of my knees hit the bed I sit.

She takes over.

Both hands on my shoulders, skirt around her waist, underwear still to the side, and she starts moving, and I forget everything. She rolls her hips forward, finds her angle, uses me exactly how she wants, and the look on her face isn’t fury anymore. It’s focus. Pure want. No performance, no control, just her taking what she needs and not caring that I can see it.

“Don’t move,” she orders.

I put my hands on her hips. She slaps them away.

“I said don’t move.”

I put them behind me on the bed. She nods and gets back to it. I am exactly where she put me, and I’m not moving a fucking muscle.