Page 130 of The Dixon Rule

Slowly, he moves forward until my back is flush against the wall next to the balcony door. His hips are moving, the zipper and button of his jeans grinding over the thin material of my dress, creating delicious pressure against my pussy.

“I want to fuck you right here against this wall,” he mutters in my ear.

“Do it,” I beg.

I’m gasping for air. I don’t even need foreplay. I’m dripping wet, and when he slides one hand off my ass and brings it between my legs, he groans loudly. He feels how ready I am.

“I forgot, I have something for you,” he says suddenly.

To my dismay, he lowers me to the ground, my legs finding footing again. He reaches into his back pocket for his phone.

“Is now the time?” I demand.

“Trust me, it is.”

He pulls up a photo and hands me the phone. My heart does an eager somersault. It’s a doctor’s report, dated two days ago. A clean bill of health.

“Look at you, chlamydia free,” I tease. We’ve both met my requirements now. I sent him my results last week. I got tested at the health clinic when I went to renew my birth control.

“But,” he says, reaching into his other pocket, “I brought a condom just in case.”

He holds up the little plastic square. I take it from his hand, twist it between my fingers a couple times. Shane watches me. Then I flick it away. It plinks against a framed photograph next to the TV and falls to the floor.

Shane’s eyes are smoldering. “You sure?”

“Yes.”

And then we’re kissing again. Now his hands are frantic, palming my breasts over my dress, slipping between my thighs again, one long finger sliding inside me.

I clench around him, crying out in pleasure before registering that the balcony door is open.

“Hold on, let’s close this,” I say, wrenching my mouth away from his. “Then you can fuck me against the wall to your heart’s content.”

“Or,” he counters. His wicked gaze flicks toward the doorway. “Get on the balcony.”

“What? No. We can’t.”

“Nah. I think we need to be out there.”

My feet move of their own volition until I’m standing outside. My balcony overlooks the pool, but it’s night, and nobody is out there. The Meadow Hill grounds are quiet. Other than the soft lights on the path and bluish glow from the pool, the courtyard is bathed in shadows.

“Stay here,” Shane says in a low voice.

My heart rate accelerates as he steps back into my apartment. One by one, I see all the lights turning off. When he returns, he’s already undoing his jeans.

“Shane,” I warn. “Anyone can see us.”

“Maybe before. Those lights were like a beacon. Now if anyone looks up here, it’s too dark to make out what we’re doing.”

I swallow the anticipation lining my throat. “And what are we doing?”

Rather than answer, he lifts my dress up from behind.

“Hands on the railing.”

My body is pulsating with pure need as I step forward and curl both hands over the edge of the balcony. We’re only one story above, but it feels like a dizzying height from here. Or maybe I’m dizzy with desire.

Shane eases up behind me. I twist my head. His jeans are still on but undone. With one hand, he takes his dick out.

---