Chapter 23 #2
My back hit the wall behind me as he moved me, and he kissed me like he was trying to drag every word out of my mouth and burn it between us. The intensity rolled off him — frustration, fear, adrenaline — every emotion he refused to name pouring out in the only language he had left.
The world dropped away, all of it erased by the way he kissed me, like he was fed up holding it in so long, he finally snapped. He kissed me harder, deeper, almost as if he didn’t know whether he wanted to pull me closer or shake sense into me.
And I kissed him back, because thinking was impossible when his mouth was on mine. Breathing was optional when all I wanted to do was lose myself in this moment, and stopping him felt like the last thing I wanted.
My fingers tightened in the fabric, and I stopped trying to think — because the world tilted and my legs stopped cooperating and he was kissing me like he didn’t care if he unraveled us both.
He angled my chin up, and the kiss went from fierce to something sharper — needy, consuming, like he couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t breathe unless he took the breath from me.
His lips moved against mine with such a kind of dirty, frustrated hunger that a moan slipped out of me — helpless, embarrassing — and he swallowed it with another fierce press of his mouth, like he needed the sound, needed the response, needed me.
His thumb brushed my jaw, rough and possessive, angling my face so he could kiss me deeper — and when I responded to him, instinctive and stunned, he made a sound that was pure, unfiltered want.
His hand slid up my side, around my back, his fingers digging into my ass.
He pressed me into the wall — pure dominance, pure virile male.
His tongue moved with mine, his fingers loosening from my hair and running over the curve of my jaw, down my neck, cupping my breast, thumb dragging over my nipple, as he swallowed my whimper.
The button was popped on my jeans, then the zipper lowered, and his hand was sliding inside my panties, dipping lower, finding my wetness.
The growl in his throat made my knees weaken.
Dustin’s finger danced lightly over my clit, causing me to grip his shirt tighter as I lifted my leg over his hip while he ground against me, and finger-fucked me in the shadow of the evening light.
His teeth nipped at my neck. “Yeah, you like that, don’t you,” he whispered.
His mouth dragged along my throat, the sound of his voice a low, sinful scrape against my skin.
“Do you feel how wet you are for me, Peterson?” His finger pushed inside, then another.
His words sank straight through me, heat coiling sharp and deep as he worked me closer to the edge.
Dustin’s fingers curled inside me, and I cried out, and he gave a dark chuckle.
“Yeah, look at you. Fucking my hand like a needy little slut, pretending you’re too good for me, when really—” his speed increased, and I was so fucking close — “when really, you’re just wound up too tight.
You want to come, Hadley?” he asked me, and he slowed the pace.
“You want to come, baby? Want to come all over my hand?”
“Ye-yes,” I gasped, his dirty mouth making me feel wilder, pulling him tighter, my hand circling his wrist, desperate for him. Urging him to go faster.
His lips skimmed my ear. “Tell me,” he demanded, his voice whisper-soft. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want . . . I want to come,” I babbled, my hips trying to thrust, but he pinned me tight against the wall.
“Look at me.”
I did — wide-eyed, breathless — and what I saw almost undid me. I stared into his dark eyes, a gleam of desire and something much darker shone back at me.
“Good girl,” he praised. His thumb dragged slowly across my lower lip, his breath shuddering like he hated how much he wanted this. “Good fucking girl.”
Those words hit differently than anything else he’d said. I could feel myself responding to the praise, and I didn’t look too closely at my reaction.
His mouth claimed mine again, his tongue moved in rhythm with his fingers. His thumb lazily circled my clit. I heard the metallic snap of his jeans, and he lowered his zipper. “Take me out,” he instructed.
His fingers moved steadily inside me, scattering thoughts.
Scattering reason. Automatically, I reached into his jeans, my eyes flying open as I touched him for the first time.
Part of me, a tiny part of me that was still rational, didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of being impressed, of wanting to look, but curiosity got the better of me.
“Jesus,” I breathed as my fingers curled around his thick, solid length.
He set the pace, guiding my hand, showing me what he wanted, and I followed, and then his hand fell away, and I was in control as my palm stroked his length. Only I wasn’t in control. Control had left the moment he kissed me.
Not kissed me — devoured me.
He removed his hand from inside me, and I whimpered in protest. Those dark eyes watched me with primal hunger as he licked his fingers.
“You taste good,” he murmured, his mouth claiming mine once more, making me taste myself.
“Get on your knees, Hadley,” his throaty demand, his teeth biting my bottom lip softly; I don’t know if it was one thing, or all things, but I was on my knees.
He looked down at me, triumph in his eyes, and somehow it didn’t matter that he held this power over me. “You know what to do,” he said gruffly.
I opened my mouth, ready to taste him, and I was suddenly on my feet and turned, with my cheek against the wall, Dustin moving my hair off my neck. I heard a zipper closing. It wasn’t mine, because his hand was back in my panties, his touch dominant.
“Still think I’m bragging, Hadley?” he asked.
His thumb pressed against my clit, circling exactly right, his fingers curled inside me every time he thrust them in, and he bit my neck and sucked hard just as I screamed, and his hand was over my mouth as heat, and my release ripped through me, sharp and dizzying.
In a haze, I felt my jeans get fixed, and my shirt pulled down as I fought to get my breath back. I felt a light kiss pressed to the corner of my mouth.
“That wasn’t even my cock,” he said huskily, his lips at my ear. “And I just blew your mind.”
Dustin patted my ass casually. “See you around, Peterson.”
He walked away, calmly, and I was still trying to figure out how to make my legs work.
With shaky hands, I brushed my hair away from my face. Head down, appalled at how exposed we’d been, I rushed home with a harsh truth I couldn’t shake.
Dustin Slater just owned my ass.
I’d never be able to face him again.