Chapter 20 #2
Her hands are everywhere at once, fisting my shirt, sliding up my shoulders, gripping. Mine answer without thinking, pulling her closer until there’s no space left between us.
She lets out a sound into my mouth, and it fuels it. Drives it further.
My tongue finds hers, taking and claiming. She meets it head-on, matching the urgency, the hunger, the refusal to slow down.
Teeth graze. Breath tangles. Bodies heat up.
We break apart.
“Stop…” She tries, but it doesn’t sound solid.
Her fingers drag through my hair, tugging enough to pull a reaction out of me, and I give it, the sound leaving me guttural this time.
“I hate this,” she breathes, her voice shaking, her hands pulling at my hair. “I hate this so much.”
“I know,” I murmur against her mouth, catching her lips between my teeth.
My hand slides to her waist, pulling her into me, and cupping her ass.
“Robert…” My name leaves her like a warning and a surrender tangled together.
I don’t give it room to become either.
I guide her back, fumble with the van's door until it gives. And it’s instinct more than thought the way I push it wider, the way we stumble into the back, knocking lightly against stacked boxes and ribbon rolls.
Something falls but neither of us cares.
She’s still shaking her head, still whispering something that sounds like protest, like frustration, like she’s arguing with herself more than me.
“This is not…” She tries, her breath shaky. “This is not what we should be doing…”
“I know,” I breathe into her mouth, my voice rougher now, less certain.
She’s in heat for me. On fire. I can see that in her eyes as she lowers her back to the leather, her chest heaving, breath slipping out of her mouth.
My hands drag up her skirt, bunching it around her waist, while my mouth traces wet kisses to the corner of her lips, along her jaw, down the curve of her neck, catching her pulse as she moans, throwing her head back.
I find her underwear with one hand, shifting it aside, dragging my fingers along her bud just to feel how damp she is.
“So ready for me…” My other hand works on my pants hastily. “Always so ready for me, Bonbon.”
I’m rock hard. So hard it hurts. Blood rushing, not just from the need, but from the absurdity of it. From how much control we lose around each other. From how raw we are when it comes to this.
How common sense disappears. How everything else comes second to this pull, this want.
I wrap her legs around my waist, lifting her slightly off the seat, putting her into that awkward, contorted position.
She sucks in a breath and holds it as I drive into her, her pussy clenching around my cock in a way that almost pulls a groan out of my chest.
“God, I hate this,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “But yessss.”
The sound drags as I move, her head falling back, her body giving despite everything she’s been saying.
Everything about this is wrong.
The place.
The timing.
The way nothing about this is thought through.
And that’s what makes it scorching. Consuming. Intense.
“You hate this?” I pull back just enough before pushing in again, the words rough against my throat.
“Yesssssss.”
“Yes?” I take her clit between my fingers, holding still as I find a pace.
“Yes.” She nods, bracing herself, her hands gripping for support, caught between holding on and letting go completely.
I don’t slow down.
I drive into her like I’m trying to erase the distance, the words, the damage… everything.
The van moves under us. Subtle at first.
Then harder.
The frame taking it, rocking with every movement like it’s caught in the same rhythm we are.
Her hands slip, then find purchase again, gripping, her body giving, reacting, and breaking apart under it.
“Robert…!” My name tears out of her, bouncing off metal and glass, trapped.
My pace turns reckless.
Faster.
Deeper.
Like we’re both trying to outrun something that’s already caught fire.
And it spreads like wildfire.
Through her first.
I feel it in the way her pussy contracts around me, the way she jerks, the way her head falls to the side as the sound rips out of her again, dragging everything with it.
In the way her hips move, meeting me halfway, like she can’t stop herself, like she doesn’t want to. Words fall from her lips, broken, unintelligible, swallowed by the moment.
I drive deeper, holding still and that sends her over the edge.
Her mouth flies open, a moan caught somewhere between breath and release, her body trembling, unraveling completely as the sensation takes over.
Everything is too much.
And it blinds me.
The way she feels.
The way she sounds.
The way she comes apart under.
It pulls me under with her, my release slamming all at once like something breaking open, tearing through everything.
For a second, every spill burns as it leaves my body into hers. I’m jerking, seeing white, spilling every last drop of me inside her until I’m completely spent.
For a second, we don’t move.
Her breathing is uneven and mine isn’t much better.
Then I slide out of her slowly, the shift dragging a breath out of both of us.
“Come here.” My hand finds hers as I sit.
She doesn’t bulge. Instead, she pushes at me.
“No.” Her voice is thin, strained, already pulling away from what just happened. “No, don’t.”
I catch her wrist, then her waist, pulling her forward before she can fully slip out of reach.
“Stop,” she snaps, struggling now, her hands pressing against my chest. “Robert, don’t…”
I pull her into me anyway, sitting her on my lap, my arms locking around her before she can twist away again.
“Let me go,” she bites out, but there’s no real force behind it now.
I hold her there.
“I hate this,” she whispers, her voice shaking now. “I hate how I get around you. I hate it.”
“I know,” I concur.
She shakes her head against me, like she doesn’t want to hear it, like she doesn’t want to agree.
“Why’d you leave early?” I lean in, my mouth brushing close to her ear, my breath warm against her skin.
She stiffens then melts.
“I knew you were going to show up,” she admits after a beat.
“So you were running from me?” I huff a breath against her skin.
“Yes.” She lets out a short, humorless sound. “Because of this.”
Her hand lifts slightly between us, gesturing vaguely at everything that just happened.
“This,” she repeats, tender now. “This kind of ending.”
“Christine…”
“No.” She pulls back just enough to look at me, her eyes clear now, whatever softness was there gone just as quickly as it came.
“Listen, I know this is…”
“You listen,” she cuts me off. “Robert, if you don’t tell me the truth,” she continues, her voice firmer with every word, “And I don't mean the generic bullshit you gave me before…”
I still completely.
“I want the real reason you wanted to stay away from us,” she presses, her gaze locking into mine, unyielding. “Because Atelia hinted there’s more.”
Damn it.
“Then you can forget it,” she finishes, her voice dropping into something final. “Forget about seeing your daughter or me… For life.”
She turns her face away like she just remembered where she is.
And who I am.
And what I said.
What I did.
And what this is.
This is messed up.