A smile tugs at my lips. “Too soon?”
“A little. I could spot you a twenty. We’ll work up from there.”
I roll my eyes. “Okay, so maybe I jumped to conclusions.”
He stops, dead serious. “No, you’re right to call me on my bullshit. Even if that wasn’t exactly what I want from you.”
“So what is it that you want from me?”
He is quiet. “To walk you home. Can I? Tomorrow.”
It’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever been asked. Like holding my hand, like a kiss on the cheek. I’m lonely enough that it seems impossible, and I stare disbelieving at the oasis. Maybe a part of me liked it dry. “And today?”
“Today…” He slides a hand down my hip, hitching me up between the wall and his body. “Today we can play a game.”
“Not the rescue game,” I whisper.
He runs his tongue down my neck while his hand reaches under me, lifting me higher, until my feet are off the ground. “Don’t count on me to rescue you, Honey. I’d only disappoint.”
But he won’t disappoint me in this. That’s the unspoken promise as his fingers find my pussy and rub through my yoga pants—hard and fast. My moan is caught in his mouth, his lips flush against mine, his tongue seeking and rough.
“What’s the game then?” I ask, shuddering as he nips my shoulder.
“The game is whoever comes first…loses.”
My laugh turns into a gasp as the rigid length of him presses flush against my clit, our clothes made of air and whimsy—nothing at all. We rock this way, in time to that ancient rhythm, feeling the beat of our hearts and our sex. There’s a beat coming from the other side of the wall, the music of someone onstage, the sound of someone’s defilement, and we use it, make it our own, writhing against each other until we reach a fever pitch.
Then abruptly, I’m back on the ground.
I would fall except for his hands steadying me, turning me around.
I’m facing the wall now, almost hugging it, face and breasts against brick. And my ass exposed as he yanks down my pants, pushing them to my knees. Coarse hands position my hips, pushing me out further so he can see… so he can penetrate.
There’s a rip. And a tear. And a blunt nudge at my sex.
I’ve fucked his fingers and his boot. But this is the first time he’s put his cock in me. It’s fitting that I’m not looking at him. Both cold and hot as I press against the cool, gritty surface and get invaded from behind.
He’s so thick, and I whimper. “Almost there,” he mutters.
But if I thought he’d take mercy, go slower, I’d be wrong. He presses all the way deep, tilting my pelvis to take him all the way inside. My mouth opens on a silent gasp. I’m too full like this. Too full of his cock. Too full of memories.
This is how Byron fucked me, from behind.
But it’s completely different too. Completely hot. Completely amazing as he fills me, again and again. As his hand reaches around to play with my clit. Casually, as if we have all the time in the world. There’s no rush, even with us out in the open.
He can fuck me forever—and he does, sliding into me until I’m slick and swollen, until my clit is plump and needy against his fingers, begging for relief.
My moan has all my pent up need. To be held and fucked. To be wanted.
“Come, Honey,” he whispers in my ear. “Come on my cock. I want to feel you gush.”
And I can’t hold back—not my body’s responses, not my tears. I shudder through climax, clamping down hard, feeling wet heat spill over his cock and down my legs. I lose the game, but it doesn’t feel like losing, not with molten pleasure filling my body. Then he’s gripping my hips like steel, digging into the soft flesh, using my body like a torque, thrusting up into me as he climaxes with a growl.
* * *
Byron is supposed to be the dangerous one. My father. Even Ivan. They are like winds that blow me, pushing me onward like I weigh nothing. Even when I dig my heels in, the rock face is slippery with pebbles and I can’t find my balance. I’m afraid of the wind, afraid of its force, but what I didn’t realize is that the greater danger lay ahead of me. Kip is my cliff. Every gust of wind pushes me closer.
It’s only a matter of time before I fall.