Free On The Ropes by Cari Quinn

lifted my face to the light rain, savoring it on my skin as my fingers rotated in mad circles and his hips slammed up into mine. He was so strong, and he was hitting me just where I needed it, far inside in a place that made my knees turn to water on either side of him. I couldn’t stay upright any longer, couldn’t do anything but clench him inside me while the spasms started and spun out.
    The first cry left my lips against his throat. I bit him to hold back the next, but it turned into a scream as he took over the task of my hand between my legs. He used both, locking most of his fingers around my quaking thighs. Only his thumbs met over my clit and stroked me like an instrument that had been tuned solely to him.
    My second climax started before the first stopped. I buried my face in his hair, my hips pumping frantically, trying to contain the wild pulses of his cock before they vibrated through my body and shattered me. Then he was coming, my name a roar from his throat as the warmth of his release blasted me deep inside. Even that continued my orgasm, making it go on and on until I whimpered and dug my nails into his tensed shoulders.
    Spent, blitzed beyond belief, I crumpled on top of him. And he stroked my back as the aftershocks rolled through us both.
    It was the rain that brought me back.
    Sometime later I lifted my head and studied the splatter of miniscule raindrops on my arm. The rain was falling on an empty bed. Empty of Gio anyway.
    There was just me, lying naked in the center of the bed with what appeared to be a handmade throw tossed over my back.
    I huddled beneath it, shaking suddenly though the room wasn’t cold. Spying the beer on the nightstand, I crawled across the bed and tipped it back, swallowing the warm liquid so fast that it spilled out of my mouth. I rubbed the moisture away with my wrist and looked around blearily, taking in the room that hadn’t made a dent in my consciousness earlier.
    “That’s not milk, you know.”
    His voice sent tingles over my skin as if he’d physically touched me. “It was sitting here.”
    “Yeah, I forgot about it. I went to make you…this.”
    I turned back, the cover wrapped around me, and frowned at the mug he held out. I clutched my beer closer to my chest. “I like mine better.”
    He plucked the bottle out of my hand. “Warm milk will help you sleep.”
    “Alcohol will get me drunk. A good drunk also helps me sleep.”
    “You have school tomorrow.”
    “No, I don’t. Tomorrow is Saturday.”
    “Fine, you have to study tomorrow.” He dropped the beer bottle in the infamous trashcan and sent me a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smirk.
    Yep, not going after that one.
    I sniffed at the milk and took a sip. It was good, just slightly warm, so I took another. But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t goad him for acting as if I was too irresponsible to have a drink. “I have to work tomorrow too.”
    “No.”
    Now it was my turn to smirk, though the gesture was hollow at best. I wasn’t any more eager to return to the club than he was. It just felt like I had to. That if I didn’t, they’d have won.
    What, I didn’t even know.
    “I meant at the Salad Hut.”
    “Oh.” He crossed his insanely tattooed arms, bringing my attention to what he was wearing. Or what he wasn’t, namely anything but his boxer briefs.
    Was I seriously supposed to carry on a reasonable conversation with him when he wasn’t dressed?
    “I was supposed to work at the club tonight,” I continued, studying the mug. Guess he was a Mets fan. “I swapped with another girl. I’m taking her shift next Thursday.”
    “Forget it.”
    “Can’t. The Pyramid Club pays my tuition.”
    He walked to the desk in the corner and turned back with a checkbook and pen in his hand. “How much do you owe?”
    My eyebrows lifted. “Damn, I must be better in bed than I thought.”
    “Consider it a loan,” he said, rolling right over my last statement. “We’ll figure out a way for you to pay