Chapter 21 #2
“God, yes,” she growled in a tiny little kitten growl at him. “Now quit teasing me and fuck me. You knew what you were doing when you wore that bespoke Kiton tuxedo tonight. You might as well have taped a sign on your back with my name on it.”
“I never did properly thank you for getting me into their custom design program.” Magnus reached down and dragged her thigh up to wrap around his hips.
Yeah, no pantyhose, just what he liked. She might as well have put a sign on her back with his name on it, too.
No panties was even better, but this was good.
Not to mention that she had worn her silken hair in an updo so he could see all of her long, supple neck. It made him want to kiss her there, bite her there, and ram his dick down there.
A tang of vodka on her tongue, floral musk perfume blossoming from her wrists and throat, and the softness of her skin under his hands drove him absolutely feral.
Magnus shrugged the tailed tuxedo jacket off his shoulders and whipped it around her, inserting her arms into the sleeves and dressing her like a doll.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
“The stucco wall is rough. It’ll cut you.”
“But—it’s a bespoke Kiton!”
“I don’t care about the fucking jacket. ‘No scars, no visible bruises,’” he recited.
And he slammed her against the wall.
He ground the hardness of his cock between her thighs, right where he knew she’d lose her mind, and her choked gasp was a reward.
He slid his hand upward, two fingers gliding under the hem of her panties and right inside her wet tightness, and her next gasp wasn’t choked but that open throaty sound of hers that drove him wild.
The deep neckline of her slip dress was loose inside his jacket, which was practically a cape on her instead of a coat, and he dipped one hand inside to thumb the peak of her breast. Her spaghetti strap fell down her arm, baring her, and he grabbed her with his mouth and sucked hard until she was keening.
With her breast in his mouth, his other hand stole up to her long, vulnerable throat, maybe his favorite part of her.
When her pulse was under his fingertips and thumb, he squeezed, just barely, just for two heartbeats, and then released her blood back to her brain as she gasped, lightheaded and wilting in his arms.
Some part of him wanted to carry Clementine back to his suite at Billionaire Sanctuary, tie her to his bed, and keep her right on the edge until she did scream one of their safe words, but she might insist on driving them in her car. Magnus didn’t want to die that night.
And he definitely wasn’t one to turn down a quickie for old times’ sake, especially with Clementine Kaas.
So he crushed her slim form against the wall with his body, his weight and size trapping her, snagged the condom out of his wallet while dropping the damned wallet on the ground, and unzipped his pants to slap it on before lifting her up.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he wore her around his middle like a pool float before burying himself in her wet heat.
Gravity shoved her down his cock all the way to his balls, and her harsh gasp drew his attention away from the fiery desire filling his body. “Still okay?”
“God, yes. God, I needed this.” Clementine threw her head back, but his hand was already around the base of her skull, cushioning the blow but scraping his knuckles.
Fuck, the intensity of the scrape was going to get him off too early if he wasn’t careful.
Her fingers laced into the short curls on the back of his head, and then her fingernails dragged down the back of his head to his collar, a sign between them that it always meant she wanted him to put her through the mattress.
Or in this case, the cement wall.
He’d do his best.
Magnus thrust up into her, holding her under her thighs and pressing her against the cement.
Her limbs wrapped him.
The wet heat of her consumed him.
Okay, all pussies were very, very good. He liked them. Never ever had found one that wasn’t absolutely scrumptious and an eleven out of ten.
But Magnus swore Clemmy’s body temperature must run a degree or two hotter than most people’s.
God, the heat of her around his cock. Sweat broke out on his skin under his dress shirt and waistcoat.
Clementine writhed, impaled on him, her breaths shorter and quicker against his mouth.
He surged up into her, the slick soles of his dress shoes slipping on the grass, but he bent his knees and got up under her to thrust harder. Clementine’s whole body settled around his cock, his hands full of her ass, and he fucked up into her as her body clenched around him.
He drove into her, one arm wrapped around her waist, and his other hand stealing up to her throat again.
As his fingers found her collarbone and then the soft column of her neck, she arched her back and her neck, lifting her chin, giving him all of it.
After the first few times they’ve broken up, sex between them had always been rough with an edge of madness.
Clementine seemed to be saying, “Hurt me, again.”
Magnus’s heart beat to the rhythm of, “Come back, to me.”
Her pulse in her throat tapped under Magnus’s fingertips, and he pressed again, longer this time.
He wouldn’t leave bruises. He knew how not to leave marks.
Her eyelashes were fluttering, her eyes dimming as he fucked her, and then he let go of her throat and sealed his palm over her mouth, still pounding into her.
She screamed into his hand just like he knew she would.
God, if she wouldn’t have been pissed as hell at him about grass stains on her white, surely custom designer dress and on his Kiton tuxedo, he would’ve shoved her down to the grass and taken her until she screamed again.
Instead, as she was holding onto him and still whimpering with each thrust, that maddening energy possessed him as he shoved himself harder into her until that moment of utter, formless bliss lifted him to where all thought stopped, a gasp.
His balls emptied into her while her core still convulsed around him.
He was still drifting into his senses when he heard her whisper, “God, I love you, Magnus.”
He knew she hadn’t meant it in that way. “I love you, too, Clementine.”