It was insane.
I knew that.
It was ill-advised, unwise, every synonym of stupid in the thesaurus, and yet, there was no whisper of a doubt in my mind, no hesitation in my voice, no question of what my answer would be as I told him, “Yes.”
His nostrils flared and relief made his ice-blue eyes warm for a fraction of a second. Then, his cocky side came out. I watched it happen, reveled in it. Burned for him.
He’d stopped thrusting, had stayed thick and hot inside me as I’d deliberated my answer.
Now?
He fucked me.
Hard.
Until I was screaming, until I was sobbing, until I was begging for more and pleading for less. He took me to the edge of ecstasy but didn’t let me fall over. He kept me there. Always there. With him, waiting, hovering, then, I felt it.
Deep inside, the second splash of his cum.
And like that, I was a goner.
Hell, who was I kidding?
I’d been a goner since the first day he’d walked into my tea room.