I try to pull away, but he has my body pinned against the dirty brick wall and my head is telling me to kick the Jerk in the balls. What the fuck is that thing my body is doing?
It’s becoming soaking damn wet and you’re thinking about all the places he could stick that tongue in.
I bite his lip with slight force, coercing him to pull away, but his body is pressed hard against mine and like ice, my body is melting under his touch. I know this is wrong, yet something is happening that excites me in a way I have never experienced. I loathe him. He is annoying and his sole purpose on this earth is to push my buttons.
And he just happens to be pushing the right ones.
His tongue is circling mine at a slow yet intense pace, teasing it enough to make me moan. I am unable to pull away now, and surprise even myself with my hands moving towards his hair, tugging it until he grunts in my mouth. These sounds are foreign and the excitement is overwhelming, my panties soaked with a persistent throb.
I know I have too much pride to ever allow this to happen, and slowly coming to my senses, I make a proper attempt at moving my mouth away from his and using my upper body to twist out of his grip. Of course it is fruitless, and with a forceful body slam, his groin is pressed against me so hard that I feel it throbbing, exciting me further.
Pulling his lips back, his warm breath smothers the air between our faces. “This,” he says, with a low rumbling growl, “is payback for smashing my face.”
This beautiful yet damaged face is only inches away from mine and so close that I can count the tiny freckles along the bridge of his nose. His lashes are long and curl just above his hazel eyes. Even as we stand in the dark (and I am heavily intoxicated) the color of his eyes have this shimmery light speckle that I have never noticed before. Well, why would you notice? You’re too busy telling him to shove it where the sun don’t shine. So, no point giving him a bigger head (excuse the pun) and telling him how pretty he is. Give it back—jerk style.
“You deserved it,” I tell him, catching my breath in between his ravenous kisses.
“Then you, Malone . . . deserve this.”
Against the wall in the dark and dirty alley, he pulls my dress above my thigh, scratching my skin as he clasps his grip firmly on my ass. I beg myself to stop this madness, but the desire has driven me into such a blissful paradise that my body is in full control. His kisses are heavy against my neck as I arch to the right, giving him free rein to my sensitive spot. My body is sinking further, my pumps barely able to hold myself up with my legs quivering in anticipation.
It’s just the alcohol making me want him.
It’s a rebound.
You just want to forget Jason was with another woman.
You’re an idiot and will regret this.
What was that last part my brain was saying?
The frenzy in his touch drives me to move my hands inside his shirt,
and his body, cool as steel, is sculpted with lean muscle. I want him inside me; the thought is dangerously exciting and very off limits. I feel the ache inside me, hungry for him to fill me and take me to places that previously only existed in my wildest imagination.
“You are such a fucking tease, Malone. You know that?”
“I don’t tease, you’re just greedy and can’t help yourself.”
“Maybe you’re right,” he tells me, running his teeth along my lobe.
I can’t even hold a conversation here, not when his hands have moved into my dress and are squeezing my breasts in a desperate plea. His constant rub against my nipples is driving me insane, and I am this close to stripping in the cool night’s air so he can suck on them like the hungry beast he is.
I lose my train of thought and giggle. Fueled by the alcohol, I struggle to stop making my skin feel so highly sensitive with every flick of his tongue. He lets me go and my laughter stops. He produces a silver foil packet and my body tenses immediately. Is this really happening? There is no turning back. . . . back away right now, Presley! My pathetic pleas are soon forgotten as he slams his lips against mine while fiddling with his belt buckle.
He is off limits.
Think of the consequences!
You’re giving him what he wants. Unless of course . . . you make this about what you want.
What the hell do I want?
I want to be lost in a moment, drowning in ecstasy, and reminded why I gave up everything I had worked so hard for. Roll around in the green, green grass that is supposed to be on the other side.
But reality knocks me out cold, and in the distance I hear the noise of the night traffic; even then, the tearing of the packet is the only sound I focus on.
I can tell him to stop.