“Good girl,” he roughs out as I pant, twisting his wrist so I can grind up against his palm. “Good, good girl.”
Heat starbursts in my belly as I rub helplessly against his hand, thrusting to get the friction I need as he gently pulls the balls out, one by one. Eventually, I’m half-collapsed against the wall, sweating and huffing, and he has the full string of beads curled between his fingers. I gape as he puts them, dripping, into the pocket of his suit. “I’ll wash ‘em later,” he says with a shrug, wrapping his forearm around my waist and hoisting me up against the wall. I naturally clap my legs together, but he grabs both of my thighs and pulls them apart, lifting them to wrap around his waist. “Open.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” I snap, fumbling at the zip of his dress trousers. It takes half a second for him to pull his throbbing erection free, line up, and thrust inside of me. I swallow back a cry of pleasure as he plunges into me.
Oh. God. That’s good. That’s right. That’s what I needed. For the first time today, I feel my entire body relax. It’s like an itch deep in my core is finally getting scratched.
He groans, pressing his rough cheek against mine as he holds still for a second, letting me get used to the sensation. “Good?”
I nod, and he pulls his hips back, slamming into me. My mouth falls open as he does it again. Again. Again. Again. He pounds me, hot and sloppy, shivers wracking his body with every thrust. His eyes are squeezed closed, like he can’t bear to look at me. I watch him blearily as pleasure rushes through me.
This isn’t how I’m used to Zack being. Normally, he likes to tease me. To drive me crazy with his mouth and his fingers, until I’m practically begging for him. But now, it’s like he’s in a frenzy. His free hand fists in my hair, tugging through it, teasing through my carefully styled curls.
“If I cared about my hair,” I pant, “you’d be in so much trouble right now.”
He doesn’t say anything, plunging into me again. My body spasms as electricity arcs through me, and I clench my thighs around his waist, using my legs to pull him closer into me. I need him closer. I need every part of us to be touching. I need him inside me. My sex is so sensitive and achy it’s almost painful. I grind against him, desperate for pressure despite the soreness. I can’t help it. I need the touch. I’m sopping wet and slowly getting more and more frantic as the pressure builds inside me.
“God,” I murmur. “Please. Please, please.”
“Please what?” He rolls his hips, hitting a sensitive spot. Wetness trickles down my thighs, and I bite back a soft noise, jerking my hips furiously against his. I’m so close.
“More,” I gasp, and he quickly obliges. Yanking down the neckline of my dress, he starts massaging my breasts. I buck, echoes of pleasure thrumming through me and squeezing my insides, and he growls, dipping his head and tugging one hardening bud into his mouth with a harsh pop. His hot wet tongue laves over the sensitive skin, and I shudder all over. The cold night air washes over my breast, sending my skin prickling.
And still, it’s not enough. I reach down between us, sliding my hand over my stomach. He grabs it, pressing it against the wall.
“No,” he growls.
“If you don’t want to touch me, I will.”
He leans forward and licks a hot line down the side of my neck, freeing my wrist and bringing his own hand between my legs as he screws me. I gasp, my body jerking as his calloused finger curls around my sweet spot.
“Oh. God. Zack.” I let my head tip back against the wall. “Zack.”
His hips stutter against mine. “Don’t,” he mutters. “Don’t say my name.”
I bite his ear, hard enough to make him flinch. “I’ll say whatever I damn well please.” I bite him again, pressing my teeth hard into his earlobe.
He groans, tucking his face into the crook of my neck.
“You’re so…” he trails off.
“Yeah,” I admit. “I am.”
His grip on me tightens. He slams into me again and again, railing me so hard white stars flash behind my eyes, pleasure shaking my body like a rag doll. I’m so distracted, it takes me a few seconds to realise that there’s warm wetness touching my neck.
Is he crying?
“Zack.” I pull back, my vision hazy. “Hey. Hey. Are you okay?” He nods into my neck.
“Look at me,” I demand, but he doesn’t. I can feel the tension radiating off him in waves. His muscles are bunched and hard. He thrusts into me again, and I gasp, twisting. I can feel my release cresting up inside me, like a wave about to swallow me whole. “Zack. God. I’m going to…”