“Fuck,” I cursed, forehead falling forward to rest against her hair. “I don’t have a condom.”
Maven stilled, a long stretch of time and disappointment passing between us.
“I have an IUD,” she said, quietly, as if she wasn’t quite sure what those words meant in this context. “Are you… um… do you have any…”
“I was just tested at camp,” I told her. “And I haven’t fucked anyone since.”
That seemed to surprise her.
I didn’t want to ask the same of her, but my mom had given me too many talks about safe sex for me not to. “Maven,” I said, her eyes fluttering shut at the sound of her name as my hand slid between her legs to cup her. “Tell me you’re tested, too. Please, tell me I can fill this needy cunt the way I want to.”
“Yes.”
The word might as well have been a prison sentence and a freedom flag all at once. I slid one finger inside her from where I was cupping between her legs from behind, and she mewled, bucking into the touch.
I withdrew just as quickly.
With one hand at the crook of her hip, that velvet fabric of her dress resting on my wrist, I placed myself at her entrance, gliding my cock up and down her wet seam until I was coated.
I wedged myself inside just half an inch, both of us hissing at the feel of it.
Then, I hooked my hands around her elbows, holding her arms back and her chest puffed until she had no choice but to look at me in the mirror.
“Watch,” I commanded.
And I slid it home.
The room shrank as I did, the air suffocating, neither of us able to breathe until I was all the way in. Everything snapped back at once then, and Maven shook in my grasp, her knees buckling, eyes fluttering shut.
“Come on, baby,” I coached, kissing her hair. “Watch as I fuck you.”
She peeled her lids open, her eyes connecting with mine in the mirror. She was so wet from my mouth, from her climax, that she stretched open for me with just that flex of my hips. I slowly pulled out, watching her as I did, and then pressed back in again, finding more depth.
It was me who closed my eyes this time.
My head lolled back, and I bit my bottom lip on a curse before I looked in the mirror again.
Maven just smirked, hinging at the waist, allowing me better access to drive it in.
My first strokes were slow, calculated, like I was pushing reps in the gym. Withdrawing for four breaths, pressing in for one, holding for two, and then repeating again. And the whole time I was torn between watching Maven’s ecstasy in the mirror, or where her ass rippled every time my hips slammed into her.
I wanted to savor it, every second, committing the whole thing to memory. I wanted it tattooed on me.
I wanted her in my fucking bloodstream.
Slowly, I picked up my pace, kissing her neck and shoulder and jaw as I held her arms behind her. My mouth was on her neck when I glanced in the mirror and saw her eyes closed, her lips open in a moan, her tits bouncing wildly where they were shoved up and over the top of her dress.
“Eyes on me, baby,” I said, nipping at her neck.
She seemed drugged as she forced her head up, her gaze toward me, and when those heavy golden eyes locked on mine, I pumped faster, harder, never breaking our stare.
I released one of her arms, my free hand scooping up under her thigh and lifting one leg. I held her steady, stretched her open, and sucked on her earlobe before saying, “Again. Play with that pussy until you come again.”
She whimpered like she wasn’t sure she could, but then her hand dove down, nudging her dress out of the way so she had access to her clit. She circled it slow at first with just a couple fingers, and I slowed my pace to match hers. But when those two fingers turned into her whole hand, when she was bucking and trembling and circling her palm quickly over that sensitive part of her, I railed her, letting out a long, slow curse as I came.
I groaned with the first release, and Maven was right on my heels, crying out as she found her second orgasm. She was melting into me, and I took her weight even as my body convulsed and shook with her. It was so fucking good, so fucking us — hot and angry and unpredictable.
“Yes, baby,” I moaned, filling her again and again. I could feel my cum dripping out of her already. “Just like that.”
She cried out, bouncing against me, riding out the last of her climax until we were a trembling, filthy mess. Sweat slicked our skin, and our breaths were still haggard and harsh as I carefully set her foot back down on the ground, releasing her arm, both of us wincing from how we’d been tangled up now that the rush had passed.
“Jesus. Fucking. Christ,” she panted between breaths, and she turned to face me, leaning her back against the mirror.
She smiled.
I smiled.
And then she laughed, shaking her head as she started to right herself.
“I told you.”
“Told me what?” she asked, attitude present as ever as she tucked her tits back into her dress.
“That I’d have you in my bed soon.”
She looked around with an arched brow. “I didn’t realize you slept in the weight room.”
I bit my lip before letting a growl out, laughing a little as I pinned her. “Smart ass,” I said, and then I kissed her smile.
“Vince, wait,” she said, pressing a hand to my chest. She looked at that hand, then up at me. “This… this can’t happen again. I know we have this… this thing between us, and that was… so hot. But it was just once. Just to scratch an itch.”
“Scratch an itch,” I repeated.
She nodded, brows tugging inward.
“What happened to what you asked me?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You asked if I’d feel the same, even after having you,” I said. “Why would you ask that if this was just to scratch an itch?”
She swallowed, her eyes flicking between mine before she stared at where her hand still pressed into my chest and held me at a distance.
“It was a one-time thing,” she murmured again.
“Uh-huh.”
“I mean it.”
I wanted to ask her why again. Why was this a one-time thing? Why “couldn’t we,” as she had put it? What was she hiding?
What was she so damn afraid of?
But I knew, even then, with her looking me dead in the eyes and saying that this was it — she was a damn liar.
This wasn’t it.
Not even close.
So, I humored her, stepping back and giving her space.
Because if there was anything I loved more than fucking Maven King, it was proving her wrong.
“Fine,” I said.
Then, I crossed the room, bending to retrieve her panties. I walked back to her just as she was sliding her dress down over her hips.
“Put these on,” I said.
“I was going to—”
“No,” I said, cutting her off. Her finger was pointed toward the bathroom, and I pulled that fingertip to my lips and kissed it before draping her panties over the knuckle. “You’re not allowed to clean up yet.”
“Not allowed—”
“Put these on, and walk home with my cum dripping out of you. I want you to feel a reminder of what just happened with every fucking step.”
Her lips parted, eyes wide.