gentle.” Their debauchery had started when she came to him one night with a shy request to tie her down—something she had read in a dirty book that had turned her on. He'd made it clear she didn't need to be timid about asking for whatever she wanted. Particularly since the idea of domination had always turned his crank too. Hell, anything involving the two of them naked turned his crank. But especially the naughty stuff.
Neither of them had been made for vanilla.
She turned her head, resting her cheek against the cold glass, and cast him a glance. “We did gentle. In our own way. Did you forget?”
He froze. No. No, he hadn’t forgotten, but it was easier to pretend he had. The sex had always been explosive and raw and dark. But then they'd cuddled. Or she'd rubbed his back after a hard day of work. He'd made her sandwiches when she was studying late at night.
They'd been gentle with each other. In their own way, as she said.
Thought this was supposed to just be a hot fuck?
It was. Is.
“Eyes forward,” he said, voice hoarser than he would have liked.
Maybe she was awash in memories too, but she clearly saw the wisdom of his directive because she turned her head until her forehead rested against the glass. He tightened his hold on her hips and rammed inside, the blood rushing in his ears making her cry of pleasure sound distant.
Yes. This. This was all he wanted. All he needed.
Chapter Seven
Wyatt's first thrust made her toes curl. His second made her head want to explode.
She cried out, thankful he'd been smart enough to ignore her bleating about gentleness and kindness. This was all she craved, all she had signed up for. This hard, driving rhythm, a fucking to clear her head and tide her over for the blander partners she may have to settle for in her life.
Her musings over whether the man could still fuck? Fruitless. Holy crap could he fuck.
The glass was smooth and possibly the most diabolical thing for him to fuck her against, since there wasn’t a single damn thing she could grab and brace herself with. His hands captured her wrists, pinning them to the window. Her entire body followed suit when he used his thrusting hips to press her tight against it, her breasts flattening, her clit loving the hard pressure. She was caught, helpless as his cock moved inside of her in tight, rapid jabs.
“Is it still cold?”
Smug bastard. She shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut. Cold was the least applicable adjective. The glass was slick and hot. Her necklace ground into her skin, the bite of metal delicious. He chuckled and released her to insert his hand between the window and her clit. His thick cock continued to rock inside of her, his thrusts becoming more fierce. Two fingers found her clit and pinched it. Even if she wanted to get away, she couldn’t. He was in front of her, behind her, inside of her, and she’d never be able to escape him.
His breath came hot and fast on her neck, the panting telling her he was as overwhelmed with sensation as she was. “Come on my cock. Let everyone see who owns this little pussy. Who's always owned it.”
Always? Yellow cautionary lights flashed in her brain at his too-intimate words, but they were eclipsed by her body's hell yes . Her body was ruled by a ho.
She strained, her hips trying in vain to work his pistoning hard-on, but he easily held her still, forcing her to accept only what he gave her. She loved that he could overpower her.
She stopped struggling and let her orgasm build, her fingers curling. It coursed up from the balls of her feet, sensation exploding, her pussy clenching around him in tight contractions. He dropped his head to her shoulder and gave a short groan, his hips jerking against her. The condom muted the heat of his release, and she briefly fantasized that he was bare, filling her with his come. Since he was the only man she’d allowed that particular liberty, she knew exactly how she