Page 60 of Wretched Love

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I opened my mouth to argue with him, since there was still a long line of people waiting for coffee, but Swiss took that moment to drag me off.

Drag. Me. Off.

I didn’t fight him at first because I was surprised, and because I didn’t want to make a scene. Then I got a look at his face, the look in his eyes, and I was no longer thinking about fighting him.

I was thinking about something else entirely.

“Swiss, you can’t just drag me out of work because you want to have sex with me,” I protested as he pulled us off the sidewalk and down the alleyway that ran down the side of the building.

The alleyway itself was quiet. The building on the other side of it was a quaint antique store that was closed on weekends. I looked lovingly at the window displays of the store whenever I walked into work, imagining walking in there, buying the jade green lamp or the vintage oil painting of a cottage garden.

But I never went in.

Because I did not have a home to put a jade green lamp in or a wall to hang a painting on.

Right now, though, I was not thinking about lamps or paintings. I was thinking about Swiss taking me down an alley in broad daylight with a certain look in his eyes.

“Swiss!” I snapped when he didn’t respond to me, yanking the arm he was dragging me with.

He stopped walking, but he did not turn to have a conversation with me. Instead, he pushed me against the brick wall and started kissing me.

I responded immediately, the reality that there was a sidewalk at the opening of the alley not far away disappearing from my mind. The brick was rough against my skin as Swiss pressed his body into mine, his hands shoving my skirt up to my waist.

I wasn’t sure whether I was clawing at him, trying to tear his clothes off, or if I was just holding on for dear life. All I knew was that I met his desperate, carnal hunger with something animal of my own.

Maybe I blacked out, or maybe I was drowning in the clashing of our mouths, but at some point, he’d freed himself from his jeans, and my panties were pushed to the side. My leg went around his hip, then he plunged inside of me. I was already soaking wet for him, from the second he’d started to drag me from the café, despite my protests.

My head might’ve slammed back against the brick wall had his hand not protected it. One of them was half lifting me at the hip, the other was at the back of my head, making sure I didn’t give myself a concussion.

His strangled grunts of pleasure echoed through my bones as his lips moved against mine.

Swiss fucked me with ferocious abandon, and I met him for every thrust, every cell in my body singing for him. My body was coiled tight, ready to explode.

Swiss’s hand moved from behind my head to around my neck. The familiar pressure almost took me over the edge, the pain, the black spots in my vision beckoning me to the abyss.

“Look at me,” Swiss snarled, barely sounding human.

My eyes found his immediately, drowning in the obsidian pools of his irises.

It was then, right then, that I exploded. That Swiss’s grunts of pleasure harmonized with mine.

He emptied himself into me, each pulse of his cock causing aftershocks to ripple through me.

We’d had the conversation a week ago about me being on birth control, about me being comfortable with him not using a condom. He’d barely been able to keep his hands off me since then. And I was somewhat the same. To put it mildly.

Slowly, both of my feet settled on the ground, though I was not strong enough to hold my body weight quite yet. Swiss steadied me, keeping hold of my hips with one hand while righting my skirt with the other. He used a bandanna that was tucked into his back pocket to clean me and the cum trickling down the inside of my thigh.

I blinked the world back into focus, the light suddenly bright. Sounds of cars and people not that far away.

We just had sex in an alley in broad daylight. Essentially right outside my place of work.

And it did not bother me one bit.

It took a long time to compose myself, my breathing.

“You wear shit like that, Countess, I’m gonna drag you out of work and fuck you.” When he spoke finally, his voice was thick and gravelly, causing my skin to prickle with gooseflesh.

“I’ll make a note to buy three more of these skirts,” I replied, my voice husky.


Tags: Anne Malcom Romance