But it was just lust. It could only be lust.
With that thought and the demanding ache in his balls, he squeezed her ass and thrust to the hilt in one smooth motion.
“Fuck, yes!” Mickie cried out as she locked her ankles behind his back.
He didn’t ask if she was okay. Didn’t check if she wanted more. Didn’t think about anything but the searing heat and eye-crossing clench of her pussy. Possessed by the driving need to come, he fucked her with an enthusiasm he hadn’t had since his twenties.
With one hand, he held her wrist anchored to the window and with the other he controlled the movement of her hips, ramming their bodies together again and again.
Within minutes, his balls ached with the need to come, to empty inside this woman, and for the first time in his life, he regretted the use of a condom. He wanted to mark her from the inside out.
“Fuck, fuck, yes, fuck me,” Mickie chanted. Her fingers curled into the back of his neck, scoring his skin with the nails. The bite of discomfort had him growling and attacking her neck. As he pounded her pussy with his cock, he sucked the soft skin of her neck between his lips. Mickie moaned and tilted her head away, baring her throat to him. He nipped and sucked until she was bucking in his arms and babbling nonsense.
“Close, close,” she said, gasping as she tightened her legs around his back. Her heels dug into his ass giving him the impression she was beyond desperate to keep him inside.
He’d be lucky if he wasn’t bruised to shit and unable to sit tomorrow.
Damn, he hoped that was true.
“Oh, my God, I’m coming,” she shouted.
One flutter of her pussy was all it took to blow his top. “Fuck,” he hollered as they writhed and jerked against each other. For long seconds, she bucked in his arms, holding him with a punishing grip. He prolonged her orgasm with tiny thrust, and her continued clenching milked him completely dry while drawing out his own climax until his dick felt so sensitive, he flinched as her pussy continued gripping him. But damn, he didn’t want to leave the tight heat of her body.
Eventually, Mickie sagged between him and the wall as though completely depleted. He understood the feeling as his own body felt worn out in the best way. In all the times he’d run into her, he’d yet to see a single strand of her hair out of place. Now, some stuck to her cheek and neck, plastered by sweat while the rest of her head looked as though birds had tried to make a nest. She also had a post-fucked tilt to her swollen lips and suddenly he couldn’t resist one last taste.
With a much gentler touch than he’d handled her seconds ago, he smoothed the damp hair back from her face. Her eyes popped open, sleepy and sated but showing her shock at the tender move. He kissed her hard, in contrast to his light hold. Though they’d kissed before, he’d been in such a frenzy to fuck, he hadn’t taken the chance to savor her flavor. Or the bold way her tongue met his and her fists curled into his shirt to hold him in place.
This woman like to fuck. Maybe as much as he did.
Reluctantly, he drew back to replenish his oxygen.
Red flushed her cheeks, which was a huge improvement over the ashy gray she’d turned after the encounter with his father.
His father.
Fuck.
The catalyst to all of this.
Christ, she’d been hurt and scared, and he’d attacked her like some savage animal.
The mood in the room plummeted as Mickie seemed to realize at the same moment that what they’d done was madness.
Not meeting his gaze any longer, she cleared her throat. “Can you let me down?”
“Oh yeah, shit. Sorry.” He released her, stepping back only after certain she was steady on her feet.
One of her shoes lay on its side a foot away while the other held her jeans around one ankle.
“Mickie that was…” Words failed him. Nothing seemed strong enough to describe what had just occurred between them.
Any lingering pleasure from the monster orgasms they’d shared vanished as horror crossed her features. “So, uh, I need to get going.” She scrambled to get into the other pant leg. At one point, she almost tipped over.
Keith reached out to steady her, but she lifted a hand and held him off as though his touch was no longer welcome.
“I got it.” Still moving with urgency, she shoved her foot halfway in the shoe, grabbed her keys and phone from the ground, and limped toward the exit. As her hand gripped the rail, she turned. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t...I mean for losing control and attacking you like that. That’s not me.” She shook her head. “That’s not who I want to be. I didn’t mean to. It won’t happen again. I’m really sorry. That’s not me anymore.” Then she shoved the door open and was gone in a blink.