Chapter 2
Chapter Two
That was what he was doing.
Fucking.
There was no other word for it, clearly dirty and rough and hot, even from out here in the alley.
He had the blonde spread out over that desk before him, face down. He gripped her hip with one of his big, big hands. The other was a fist in her hair so she was arched back even as she was splayed before him. He was standing between her legs, slamming himself into her again and again and again?—
Romily jerked back, feeling scalded .
Her heart exploded in her chest. Her ribs ached. She could feel the drag of breath in her lungs like some kind of rough and dirty caress all its own.
It had been nearly six months since she’d disappeared from her old life.
A year since she’d known she had to find a way to do it, that her marriage really was that dire—and that there was no hope she could change it.
Four years since she’d met and married Joseph in a wild, exciting whirlwind of barely six weeks, certain they were soulmates— only to find herself sitting in a hotel room on her wedding night with a nasty, frightening stranger, wondering how she’d gotten it all so wrong.
She’d spent the first month of freedom in hiding, second-guessing herself, and reading up on men like Joseph.
Of which, to her dismay, there were far too many.
The good news was that she’d stopped questioning herself.
She saw a therapist twice a week online.
She thought a lot about what reclaiming her life would look like, assuming she was ever ready for that. Assuming this wasn’t already it.
There were huge parts of her that would be perfectly happy to stay safe and dry and alone in her boat forever.
But this was the first time in a long, long while that she really and truly felt alive.
As if looking through that window was the same as plugging herself into an electrical socket.
It took her a long, dizzy sort of moment to remember where she was.
When she did, it was in a deep horror, because she was lurking.
In an alley.
Like a creep.
She could hear the music from inside the bar next door, just a heavy baseline that seemed unconnected to any song she’d ever heard.
Romily knew she was lucky that she hadn’t been seen.
That she could walk away right now and think about what she’d done when she got home.
Maybe question why she’d been skulking around in a dark alley and spying on a man she’d never met.
Go back to the boat, now, she ordered herself. And in the morning, call your therapist. This is not what she meant when she suggested low-impact social activities.
But she didn’t move.
For a few, almost painful breaths, she stayed where she was—plastered against the rough, uneven surface of the wall beside the door and under the stairs. She knew that she needed to hurry and leave before he saw her. Or before someone else did and called the cops.
But when she did move, she didn’t walk away like a normal person.
Instead, she snuck another peek.
It was like she couldn’t help herself.
Inside, the situation had changed. The woman was kneeling down, her hands on the man's thighs. She looked as if she was begging him. Pleading for something, and somehow, Romily knew what she wanted.
It was what Romily wanted too.
More of that big, thick cock of his that she was sure she would dream about forever.
The way he had pounded it into the blonde, so deep and sure, keeping up that relentless rhythm she could feel in her own pussy. Like he was doing it to her.
God, but she wished he was.
And there was something else.
Something that made everything in her tight and hot.
The woman was completely naked. He was not.
Romily understood, despite not being able to hear what they were saying to each other, that he had made the woman come, because of course he had. He didn’t look like the kind of lover who would see only to himself, and besides, the blonde looked flushed. Glassy-eyed.
Now, clearly, she was begging for the chance to return the favor.
And Romily didn’t understand what was happening in her own body, then. Why she was so flushed too. Why her breasts ached, her nipples tight and hard. Why she could feel her pussy soften with a rush of damp heat.
Romily couldn’t have moved if she tried—but she didn’t try.
She stayed where she was. It would have taken half of the Oakland PD to tear her away from the door.
Inside, he was leaning against the wall, the woman at his feet. His arms were crossed over the expanse of his chest. He held the blonde’s pleading gaze.
Only when the woman looked desperate did he raise one dark brow. She subsided, though Romily could see the way she shivered.
Then, slowly, he nodded.
And Romily watched, spellbound and dry-mouthed, as the woman reached up, hands shaking, and pulled the man’s enormous cock out of his jeans.
He was even bigger than he’d looked while he was buried deep inside the blonde. So big that Romily felt her own mouth drop open as she tried to imagine what the woman felt, as she tried to take him in her mouth, to fit him all in.
The stretch. The thick fullness of him. The taste.
The rough masculine scent of him, everywhere.
God, she was so turned on she was shaking, out here in the dark shadows of the alley with only that insistent baseline for company.
Inside, the man shifted, wrapping his hand in the woman’s hair once more. He put his other hand to her jaw.
And then, with a certain tender brutality, he began to fuck the woman’s face.
There was no doubt that he was controlling everything. The depth, the angle.
Once again, he was relentless. The pace he set was demanding, hard.
Glorious, Romily thought.
And she found herself squirming around, pressing her thighs together, working for that same white hot glimmering finish she could feel the couple inside were racing toward.
He gripped the woman’s head and fucked her harder. He had to be halfway down her throat.
He pounded into her, then went even faster, gripping the blonde’s head close as his gorgeous body stiffened.
Outside, Romily bit her own hand and pressed her thighs tight as she, too, exploded.
But when she opened her eyes, the man wasn’t looking down at the woman who still had his big dick in her mouth, her throat working to drink him all down.
He was looking straight at Romily through the glass, his blue eyes so intense she felt a jolt go through her and came again.
Even harder than before.
And then, too late, she ran.