Chapter 41 #2
Our mouths found each other in a rush. The first contact was explosive—urgent and hungry and electric as hell.
There was nothing chaste about it. Billie parted her lips and our tongues met in a collision that felt equal parts war and surrender.
She tasted of cherry and adrenaline. I groaned, low in my throat, and kissed her harder, deeper, pulling her closer until there was no light between us.
She responded in kind, threading her fingers into the nape of my neck, tugging with just enough force to say I wasn’t the only one on the brink.
Her nails scraped my scalp, sending a pleasant shockwave all the way down my spine.
For a split second I remembered where we were—closet, bar, people just down the hall—but the thought was obliterated by the feeling of her body pressed flush against mine, the relentless, needy friction.
I traced the curve of her spine, one hand moving from her face to the barest slope of her shoulder, where the thin strap of her dress had slipped out of place.
With deliberate slowness, I nudged it further, exposing the warm, soft skin beneath.
Her breath hitched, but she didn’t stop me.
Another inch and the strap fell, then the other, pooling against her biceps in a whisper of fabric.
My hand trembled—from the sheer force of wanting—when I cupped her bare breast, my thumb grazing her nipple until it pebbled under my touch.
She made a sound, not quite a moan, but close, and arched into me.
The sudden movement pressed her harder against the door, the dull clang of the lock punctuating every shift.
I broke the kiss to move my mouth lower, skimming along her jaw, her neck, the hollow just below her ear that always, always made her shiver.
I nipped at her collarbone, following the line to her chest, and then I was there, licking and sucking at her puckered peak, her hands twisting in my hair like she might never let go.
“Yes,” she gasped, the sound muffled but needy, and pulled my head closer, as if she could fuse us together by sheer force of will.
I obliged, lavishing her with my mouth, my tongue, alternating between gentle licks and sharp, wet pulls that made her writhe against me. I could feel every shift of her body, every goosebump that rose under my hands, and it drove me forward like a man possessed.
Her hands were everywhere, pushing off my jacket, raking down my back, tugging my shirt loose, sliding under the fabric to rake blunt nails along my skin.
I wanted her so badly I could barely see straight.
In a flurry of movement, I caught her around the waist and hoisted her up, letting the wall bear her weight.
She gripped my shoulders, strong and sure, and wrapped her legs around me, the skirt of her dress bunched at her thighs and riding higher with every pulse of movement.
For a moment, we just stared at each other, both breathing hard and wild-eyed, the world outside the closet gone completely silent. There was a kind of madness to it, her lips were swollen from kissing, the way she gave me that look, half dare, half plea, all Billie.
She rocked her hips into me, and the friction nearly undid me. I growled, and her answering whimper was pure sex. “You feel so good,” she whispered, her voice a shade lower than usual, eyes locked on mine.
“So do you,” I whispered back, and kissed her again, slower this time, drawing it out until she moaned with impatience.
I let my hands roam down her sides and over her ass, fingers digging in just enough to set her firmly in place.
Then I braced her body with my hips, my palms staking her bare thighs to the wall, and moved my hand between her legs, grazing the tender skin just below the hem of her dress.
The fabric was damp where it pressed against her, the heat of her arousal bleeding through the satin covering her sex.
The sight of her, lips parted, cheeks flushed, chest heaving with every shallow inhale, was enough to make my vision go black at the edges.
I pressed my fingers to the front of her panties, feeling the slick and desperate pulse of her body through the barrier.
She sighed, her nails digging into the back of my neck, and I thought I might lose it right there.
“So wet for me.”
I slid my hand up, fingers working under the elastic.
She was soaked. I massaged her folds, up and down her seam, and she let out a small, whimpering sound that almost made come in my pants.
I dipped one finger inside her, then two, slowly, savoring the way her body contracted around me.
I could feel her muscles trembling, feel her hips start to rock in time with my hand.
But even as I worked her, I couldn’t stop tasting her.
I lowered my head, trailing kisses down her neck, biting gently at the curve where her shoulder met her collarbone.
She tasted sweet and salty and Billie, the only flavor I’d ever wanted.
Her hands scrabbled at my shirt, trying to haul it off or maybe just cling to something that felt real.
Her eyes rolled back as I sucked a nipple into my mouth, teasing it with my tongue.
The way she arched into me, shameless and hungry, made me feel like a fucking king.
She was desperate, trembling, rolling her hips into my touch.
I straightened so I could see her face, watching her eyes flutter open and closed, dark with want.
She reached for my waistline and the next thing I knew she’d unzipped my pants and was yanking out my cock with urgency.
She wrapped her fingers around me, stroking with the same rhythm I was using on her.
“Fuck,” I groaned, as my balls tingled and tighten.
It was primal, the way she took me in her hand, while I flicked her clit, both of us locked in a rhythm so synchronized it felt like a chemical chain reaction—one spark away from setting off the entire lab.
My pulse was a drumbeat in my ears, matching the staccato gasp of her breath and the frantic movement of her hips.
Pleasure spiraled through me. Tingling explosions began to burst throughout my body.
I held her tight to the wall, her legs cinched around my waist, her ass cupped in my palms, and her whole body vibrating with an energy so wild I thought the room itself might break apart.
Her head tipped back, and she let out a silent gasp of ecstasy, something so honest it made me ache in places I didn’t know existed.
I watched her come undone, watched her muscles tense and her hips buck, and then, in a brilliant, reckless move, she used her free hand to brace herself against my chest, and with the other, she guided me home in one sure movement while still in the throes of passion.
She tilted her hips, lined up my engorged head with her entrance and sank down on top of me with in one deliberate, desperate motion, taking me all the way in while in the epicenter of the quake of her orgasm.
I watched my shaft disappear inside of her as her inner walls spasmed around me, hot and wet and impossibly tight, milking every last ounce of pleasure from her own release with same greedy, unapologetic force.
She ground her hips down, using the leverage of the wall and my shoulders and rode out the aftershocks of her release until the final one claimed her.
It was one of the hottest things I’d ever seen.
When her arms finally went slack around my neck, she kissed me again, softer this time, all heat replaced by something dangerously close to tender. I didn’t know what to say, but I didn’t have to. We pressed our foreheads together and let the rest of the world wait.
“I never want to leave this closet,” she murmured.
“Then don’t,” I said, voice gravelly. “Stay with me.”