Chapter 2 #2
"Good girl." I withdraw slowly. Hold her gaze as I bring my fingers to my mouth. "Even better than I imagined."
She stares at me—blown pupils, swollen lips, thoroughly wrecked—and something shifts in her eyes. Not satisfaction. Hunger. Like the orgasm only sharpened it.
"Your turn." She works the buckle with unsteady hands.
"Wren—"
"You've been hard this whole time." She works the buckle open, pops the button, and wraps her bare fingers directly around my cock.
No barrier. Nothing between her palm and my skin.
The contact punches the air straight out of my lungs. She strokes once—slow, deliberate—watching my face come apart while she does it.
"Tell me what you want. Wall or—" her eyes drop, then lift back to mine, the offer naked in them, "—I'll go to my knees right here. Whatever you want, Kade. I mean it."
Something close to wonder moves through me beneath the heat.
Two hours ago she was dancing alone in a mountain bar, trying to outrun whatever haunts her.
Now she's in a dark alley with her hand wrapped around my cock, offering me her knees on filthy concrete like it would be a *privilege*.
The image detonates through my chest and lodges there—her looking up at me from the ground, lips parted, my cock sliding between them, those impossible blue eyes gone black while she takes everything I give her.
“Next time.” God, there will absolutely be a next time. I grip her wrist, stilling her hand before she finishes me where I stand. My voice comes out rougher than I intend. "Right now, I want you on this wall."
“Yes, please." The word cracks open. Her free hand fists in my shirt, and she presses closer, restless, trembling, chasing friction she can't quite reach. "I need you inside me—now. Please."
She's already begging. She has no idea what that does to me.
"I don't do anything halfway." My voice has dropped to something low and dark that doesn't quite sound like me. "Last chance to change your mind."
"Fuck me." Breathless. Absolute. No shame anywhere on her face—just raw, open want, and God, she's devastating for it. "I want your cock deep inside me. Right here. Don't you dare make me wait for a bed."
Every last shred of restraint disintegrates.
I spin her to face the brick, hike the silk dress up around her waist, and lean down to put my mouth against her ear. "Hands flat on the wall. Spread your legs. Keep them there."
She complies before I finish the sentence—palms flat, back arched, lush ass pushed back against my aching cock like an offering. Like she's been waiting for exactly this instruction. The sight nearly ends me before I've even started.
"Anyone could see us right now." I pull my wallet. Thank God I'm the kind of man who plans ahead. “Me, fucking you against the wall.”
"Let them." She glances over her shoulder, eyes gone full dark with want. "Just put it in me, Kade. God, I need you to fuck me…”
"Since you asked so nicely." I sheath myself in latex, grip her hips like a vice, and pause—just long enough to feel her tremble, to feel how badly she needs this, to make sure we both know exactly what we're doing. "Last chance."
"If you don't fuck me right this second—"
I thrust brutally deep into her, burying myself to the hilt, cutting off the eager threat. She is incredibly tight, dripping wet, completely perfect. I grit my teeth to keep from finishing immediately like a goddamn teenager.
The sound she makes cuts off into shocked silence, and then—a long, low, wrecked moan that she muffles against her own hand. She's impossibly tight. Dripping. Perfect. I grit my teeth hard against the urge to finish immediately like a man who's never had a woman in his life.
"More." She pushes back against me. "Deeper. Please."
I start moving, setting a punishing, piston-fast rhythm that's probably too rough for a first time.
But she meets me thrust for ruthless thrust. Those little helpless sounds escape freely now—I want them, I *told* her I want them—and they fire through me like a current.
One hand stays anchored on her hip while the other slides around to mercilessly work her clit.
A ragged, gorgeous cry tears from her throat.
"That's it." Her muscles start to flutter and tighten around me, rhythmic and desperate. "Come on my cock, little bird. Right now. Let me feel you."
She shatters.
Her whole body locks—clenching around me so hard my vision whites at the edges.
I bury my face in her neck and follow her over, grinding deep, groaning against her damp skin as the climax tears through me in long, rolling waves.
It goes on longer than it has any right to.
It goes on long enough that when it finally ends, I'm holding most of her weight.
We stay locked together in the dark, breathing.
Then the night air creeps back in. The distant sound of the bar, two streets over. A car on the main road. Reality, reassembling itself.
I pull out carefully and deal with the condom. She straightens her dress with shaking hands, then looks down at the shredded lace pooled on the alley floor. Her panties are a lost cause—destroyed long before I tore them off.
Something like laughter moves across her face. "That was..."
"An appetizer." I pull her against me and take her mouth in a slower kiss. Deep. Thorough. The kind that makes a promise. "Wait until I get you somewhere I can actually take my time with you."
A full-body shiver runs through her. "My place isn't far."
"Lead the way."
She looks down at the ruined underwear, then back up at me. "I can't walk home with—"
I shrug out of my jacket and wrap it around her waist—heavy canvas, hanging to mid-thigh.
It covers what needs covering and makes it abundantly clear to anyone who looks that she's wearing my clothes.
The possessive part of me, the dark part I usually keep bolted shut, has zero objections to that visual.
"Better?"
"Much." She threads her fingers through mine like it's something she's done before. "I hope you don't have anywhere to be in the morning."
"Clear schedule." We start walking. I keep her tucked against my side, still cataloging the street out of habit, but most of my attention is on the way she smells—hot skin and sex and the faint trace of my cologne transferred from my jacket. "I've got the entire weekend free."
She tips her head up. "Good." Her voice drops to something soft and deliberate. "I want you to use every hour of it."
The words land low and hard. I glance down at her.
"Every hour," I repeat.
"However you want." She holds my gaze, no flicker of hesitation anywhere in her face. "I meant what I said in that alley."
I pull her closer and say nothing. There's nothing to say. She's just handed me the entire weekend and wrapped it in a bow, and the part of me that's supposed to stay detached and operational has gone completely, utterly offline.
Her apartment is in a converted Victorian two blocks over—steep stairs, narrow hallways, the kind of building that settles and creaks like it's breathing.
She fumbles with the keys at the entrance.
I take them from her, unlock the heavy door, and hand them back without comment.
Her hands are steadier by the second landing.
"Third floor." Her voice hasn't lost that low, heated edge. "All the way up."
The stairs creak under our feet. By the second landing, anticipation has turned into something with actual physical pressure behind it. By the third, I've decided I'm keeping her in this building for the foreseeable future.
At her door, she takes the keys, unlocks it on the first try, and pushes it open.
I follow her inside and press her back against the door before it's finished closing. Her breath catches. I hold her there—one hand braced beside her head, the other tilting her chin up—and wait for her to look at me.
"You said something to me at the bar." My thumb traces her jaw. "About when we got here."
Recognition moves through her eyes. Then heat.
"I said I was going to take off this dress." Her hands find the hem. "And let you do whatever you want with me."
She pulls it over her head in one fluid motion and drops it. Stands there in nothing but high heels and the aftermath of a dark alley, chin lifted, completely bare and completely certain.
"I keep my promises, Kade."
The door is still at her back. I haven't moved. I take one long moment to look at her—all of her—and let her watch me do it. Let her feel exactly what it means to be looked at like that. Her chest rises and falls faster. A flush crawls up her throat.
Good.
"Good." I close the distance between us, drop my mouth to her ear. "So do I. Every single thing I'm going to do to you tonight—I promised myself that in the bar. Before you ever asked me to walk you home."
She makes a soft, wrecked sound.
"Bedroom's down the hall." Her voice has gone unsteady. "Couch is closer."
"Not a chance." I scoop her up. She wraps her bare legs around my waist and drags her lips along my jaw, her breath hot against my skin, her hips already rolling against mine with a slow, deliberate grind that makes my grip tighten to the edge of bruising.
"Bed." The word comes out rough. Final. "Lights on. I want you spread out in front of me where I can see every inch." My mouth finds the curve of her neck. "And little bird—" I bite down, just hard enough to make her gasp, "—we're not sleeping until I've had every single thing you promised me."
A full-body shudder tears through her. She points down the dark hallway with a trembling hand.
I carry her through it.
The night is nowhere near finished—and neither am I.