Her inferno-hot pussy greedily clamped down on him, and a groan slid through his clenched teeth. “Can’t give you gentle right now.”
“Not looking for gentle.”
Good. He fucked her hard. Every thrust was deep. Pitiless. Unrelenting. He’d come here tonight for this, and he knew it. Accepted it.
“Wanted this for years.” Hammering into her, he relished her every response—the little moans she made, the hitches in her breath, the prick of her nails, the way she arched into him.
His release was already closing in on him. He wouldn’t be able to hold it back for long. Not when she made him feel more territorial than he had of anything in his life.
He grunted against her mouth. “Sweetest, greediest pussy I’ve ever fucked. See how well it fits my cock?”
Wound so tight with the need to come, Bree dug her nails into his back, careful not to pierce the skin. But it was hard when he was feverishly pounding into her, dragging his long, fat cock over super-sensitized tissue.
No one had ever fucked her like this. No one else had ever taken her with such sheer sexual aggression or made her feel so … mastered, for want of a better word.
She was lost in him and she knew it. Lost. Burning. Frantic.
He adjusted his angle, finding a spot that made her gasp, and then he was hammering into her again, bumping that spot with every thrust. “You like that, Bree? You want more?”
“Fuck, yes,” she hissed, and he gave her what she wanted. The friction built and built, sending her higher and higher, until she was on the very verge of exploding. Her pussy fluttered, tightened, heated. And she felt the long shaft inside her swell.
“Milk my cock, baby girl. I want every drop of my come inside you.”
Maybe it was his order, maybe it was the thumb that flicked her clit, maybe it was the growl that vibrated with authority—whatever the trigger, her body shook violently as her orgasm barreled into her. Wave upon wave of white-hot pleasure surged through her, trapping a scream in her throat. Her back bowed, her head fell back, and her pussy rippled.
Fingertips bit so hard into her thigh she was surprised he didn’t break the skin. Alex cursed into her neck as his thrusts turned wilder, rougher, and more frantic. His cock went impossibly thicker as he jammed it deep and exploded with a growl. Burst after burst of hot come splashed her inner walls.
Limp and sated, they both lay like that for a while until he finally rolled off her. She was about to get up when a hand pressed against her stomach, staying her.
“Don’t clean up,” he said. “I’ll be fucking you again soon, and I want to feel my come inside you when I do.”
Her brows lifted. Well, now.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Settled at the eating bar near the front window of the deli, Elle gawked at Bree. “You’re not messing with me? You guys really did the horizontal rodeo?” Her eyes lit up. “Yee-fucking-ha.”
“It’s really nothing to celebrate. He made his exit in the middle of the night.” Bree had heard him leave the bed—there was no way of sneaking out without waking a pallas cat, for God’s sake. But she’d pretended to be asleep, and he’d pretended not to know that she was awake. It had just seemed easier that way. Less awkward.
Elle’s shoulders lowered. “That’s disappointing.”
Well, yeah. Bree bit into her soft, crusty baguette. The tastes of roast beef, lettuce, hot peppers, and mayo exploded on her tongue. She and Elle sometimes went to the deli for their lunch break. It was always busy. A long line of customers stood glancing through the glass case as they told the deli workers what meat, fixings, and condiments they wanted on their baguettes.
Bree’s cat never liked being there during lunch hour due to how hectic it could be. The feline didn’t like crammed spaces period. But Bree was used to it; used to the air being filled with the sounds of voices chatting, the microwave dinging, and the oven alarm beeping. Plus, being surrounded by the delicious scents of fresh bread, peppers, mayo, cured meats, and coffee was a bonus.
“It can’t have been pleasant for you to hear him creeping out,” said Elle.
“It stung, I won’t lie.” Her cat was mightily miffed—it was a kick to the ego that the feline would not forgive easily. “And I can’t say I like that he clearly only wanted one night with me, but I’m not surprised that he left. He’s not ready for anything more. I didn’t expect him to stay. All I’d hoped for was rough, intense, slam-me-onto-every-available-surface-and-fuck-me-until-I-screamed sex.” He’d certainly delivered on that score. Over and over, in fact.
After he’d taken her on the kitchen floor, they’d moved to the bedroom for round two. Well, they’d tried to. He’d ended up fucking her on the stairs. They’d then taken a shower during which he’d eaten her out before pinning her against the tiled wall while he pounded into her. Dry and sated, they’d tumbled into bed and fallen asleep. But it hadn’t been more than two hours later that she’d woken to the feel of his tongue swiping through her slit; then he’d propped himself against her headboard while she rode his cock.