“You in here alone, Violet?” he asked, approaching me.
Even though it made no sense, I retreated, my back hitting the coffee machine.
I nodded, staring at him as he pressed his body against mine.
“You’re in here alone while the whole rest of the street is closed up for the day.”
I frowned at this, not sure what it had to do with anything nor why it was the cause for his angry tone.
“And you left the door unlocked,” he added, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
I hitched up my shoulder. “So?”
His eyes flared. “So?” his head jutted toward me. “So it means any fuckin’ one who wanted could come in here and do this.”
He didn’t give me a moment to react. Instead, he turned me around, yanking up my skirt.
My hands found the flat of the counter on instinct, my heart in my throat and my entire body brimming with sudden, animalistic desire.
He pushed my lower back down so I was completely bent over, so I was facing the large windows at the front of the café, displaying the quickly darkening night. There weren’t many lights on in here, and the windows had a slight tint, but if someone walked past and really peered in, they’d see us.
My nipples pebbled at the thought.
His hands went to my panties, ripping them apart.
The clang of his belt and the crinkle of foil was the only warning I got before he surged into me, snatching my hair and yanking my head back.
I let out a strangled cry from the pleasure and pain as he fucked me with abandon.
He was rough, relentless, hadn’t even prepared me for this because he knew my body well enough to know I’d been soaking fucking wet the second I heard his boots against the floor.
“My bad fuckin’ girl,” he grunted, fucking me. “Is this what you wanted?”
My body tensed at his rage, in response to the edge to him that seemed wild … unpredictable. He was always so controlled everywhere else, but lately, with me, his control had been slipping. He was as much of a slave to this as I was.
His grip on my hair tightened, then he yanked my head closer to him.
My orgasm rushed toward me.
“Is this what you wanted, Violet?” He punctuated his question with a brutal thrust.
“Yes,” I whimpered in ecstasy, nearly senseless. “You’re what I want, Elden. Only you. I’m yours.”
My scalp burned under his grip as I met his eyes. “Say it again, Violet,” he commanded, neck tight with the restraint he was still showing even now with his own impending climax.
“I’m yours,” I moaned dutifully.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “That’s my girl. Now come for me.”
I was already falling before he spoke, but my body exploded at his words, at the roughness of them.
He yanked my hair tighter as I milked his release out of him, sending us both to a sacred place that I didn’t think existed for anyone but us.
I was barely breathing by the time I regained coherent thought. My legs quaked, barely able to hold my weight. I leaned heavily onto the counter, trying to catch my breath, slow my heart rate.
Elden must’ve gone, taken care of the condom, because when he turned me around, his jeans were buttoned back up. He thoughtfully pulled my skirt down from my hips, but there was still an edge to him. A wildness to his eyes that only grew the more we were together. His control was fraying. It filled me with satisfaction, made me feel more comfortable with parts of myself they were becoming less orderly, more animal.
But as Elden righted my skirt, I found grasp over more rational thoughts.