He’d treated her badly. She’d had a shit week because of him. Yet here he was saying all the right things. Making her feel all the right things.
I do want him.
“Next time,” he said against her mouth, “have some damn patience when you know I’m on club business.”
“Next time. As if.”
“Yeah, next time.”
She yanked at her arms.
He kept them held tight. “You’re not going anywhere until…”
“Until what?” She glared at him.
“Until I’ve given you an orgasm to fix this … misunderstanding.”
“Get the hell off me.”
“No fucking way.”
Suddenly, he spun her to face the wall. Her cheek pressed up against it, and her palms slapped the bricks. Her purse fell to the ground.
He kicked her feet apart and set his body flush with hers. A hard wedge of flesh pressed into the crack of her ass cheeks. “Can you feel how much I want you?” he said against her ear, his hot breath spreading down her neck. “Can you feel how hard my cock is for you?”
She trembled. Lust raged through her. Her pussy was dampening by the second. She groaned. “Yes.”
“And I know damn well you want me. You wouldn’t have been so bat-shit crazy back there if you didn’t.”
“Leave me alone.” Her throat was tight, the words hard to get out.
“That’s not what you really want, Belle.” He ran his hand up between her thighs, bunching her dress into a ruck, and then found her panties. He rubbed the material over her pussy. “You’re fucking soaking for me, Belle. Dripping.”
“Oh, God.” She closed her eyes as her knees threatened to give way. She’d craved his touch. Dreamed of it while they’d been apart. Seen his face in her mind’s eye whenever she’d masturbated.
“And I’m going to give you exactly what you need from me.” He pulled her panties down to her knees. They quickly fell to her ankles.
“Wyatt.” She arched her back, offering her bare ass his way.
“Jesus Christ, woman,” he muttered. For a moment, he fumbled behind her, then the hot domed head of his cock nudged her wet entrance. “Get ready for it.”
She didn’t have time to answer. He forged in, filling her with his steely erection. He kept on going, driving in until he was seated at the hilt and his body had claimed hers.
“Oh … fuck.” She gasped, her pussy quivering around his shaft as she adjusted to its thick girth. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.”
“Yep, that’s what we’re gonna do.” His mouth was on her cheek, his head pushing hers against the wall. “And you’re gonna come so hard.”
He slid his hand around her waist, bunched up her short dress further, and set two fingers over her clit. He rubbed fast little circles, stimulating a desperate craving that couldn’t be ignored. It had to be satisfied.
“I know your kinks and your desires,” he said on a growl. “Better than anyone.” Still, he rubbed her clit, his fingertips wickedly accurate at finding her neediest spot. “So don’t forget that.”
The pressure he built in her pelvis was almost her undoing, and her knees buckled as a long whimper left her mouth.
He held her closer, pinning her where he wanted her, then set up a crazed rhythm, plundering in and out, driving her nearer to the edge with each wild penetration to full depth.
They were both gasping. She was shaking, the need to come so intense, so consuming.
“Oh … oh…” She clenched her fists and curled her toes in her shoes. “Wyatt … don’t stop.”