If there was a rhythm, she couldn’t catch it. There was no way to move her hips, either with him or against him.
It was a hammering.
He held her at her hips and at her throat, and it was up to her to grip his arm. To stand up on the very tips of her toes—because if she didn’t, she would collapse against him and maybe choke for a moment. Or worse, he would stop.
It was a storm. It was magnificent, it was terrifying, and he fucked her hard.
And he changed her, every time his cock slammed deep.
Because his green gaze never wavered. He kept it trained on hers, and he watched as she sobbed. As she cried out. She hung on for dear life, he hammered into her and her body exploded.
Over and over again.
And it wasn’t just her clit. Her whole body seem to come, not just her nipples and her pussy, but everything. Every inch of her, a clenching and a shuddering, inside and out. He fucked her relentlessly, so hard it was like he was making her new.
He fucked her while she burned and fell apart, and he fucked her on and on until she couldn’t tell the difference between the fucking and the coming, a sob and a sigh.
And when she finally drooped a little, still trying to hold on to his forearm but no longer able to make her fingers grip, he shifted. He pulled out, then tumbled her down with him onto the ground. And that was part of it, she understood—that it was a bathroom. That no matter how nice the rug, it was on a bathroom floor.
And she didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything but Dylan coming down over her, still fully dressed, except for the jeans he’d opened to let himself free.
She had a glimpse of it, his huge, hard cock. And the look on his face, almost like an agony, as he stretched out over her. He pulled one of her knees up high, then sank deep into her again.
Then, if it was possible, he fucked her even harder. Even deeper.
And Jenny was sure she was done, that her body couldn’t take any more, but he dropped his head to her breast and sucked her nipple deep into his mouth. She came, that easily. Once, then again. And when she was positive that this time, she really was finished, he grinned at her. All wolf.
Dylan reached down between them and pinched her clit, hard.
Jenny screamed, but his other hand was there, covering her mouth. Taking the sound. Making it part of her coming again, in a wild, clenching rush.
Then he was groaning too, and she could feel him shudder as he came. His whole body shook as he pumped himself into her, it seemed to go on forever, and that was even hotter.
For a long while, there was nothing but breath. Both of them, breathing heavily and loud in the quiet little room.
He was crushing her down into the plush rug, and she could feel his cock inside her, semihard still. Dylan stirred, after what seemed like another long while, and lifted his weight off her.
And when his eyes met hers, she could have sworn that for the first time in as long as she’d known him, he looked guarded.
Jenny didn’t think. She lifted her hand, and took his face in her palm. She wanted to ask him if he was all right, but there was something in his face that kept her from it.
So instead, she kissed him, and not one of those carnal, impossible kisses from before.
This was sweet. Soft. It made her want to cry.
And maybe it did something to him, too, because he looked away. His breath came heavy again, but then he was rolling off her, and she had to cope with how empty she felt without his cock so deep inside her.
He moved to the sink and handled the condom, then he zipped himself up. And when he looked back at her, she could only imagine how she looked. Sprawled out naked, save for a pair of heels, utterly and completely debauched on the bathroom floor.
It was Dylan who had done this to her.
Her Dylan, and Jenny could feel a reckoning gathering around her. She understood that there was no possible way that she could process any of what had happened tonight, maybe ever. In that moment, she didn’t care about that, either.
He looked down at her, and he had that stranger’s face on, and now she knew what it meant. Now she knew all of him.
She lifted her arms up over her head, and she stretched. She felt sleepy, comprehensively used in the best kind of way, and the smile that took over her face felt silly.
Giddy, even.