Page 71 of Ruthless Vow

“I need you right now.”

“You…need me to—?”

“I need to fuck you,” he says.

My eyes widen. “Here?”

“Yes.”

I think about it for a split second, about his mouth on mine, his hands on my body, his cock inside me. A little thrill courses through me. He wants me so much he isn’t willing to wait until we get back to the house. And that makes me feel beautiful, powerful.

Because I can always say no. Instead, I say, “Okay.”

He laughs, the sound low and dark and incredibly sexy. Then he takes my hand and leads me toward the back of the club, away for the main area, down a hallway.

“Please tell me you’re not going to fuck me in the bathroom,” I say.

“I’m not going to fuck you in the bathroom,” he says, leading me to the end of the hallway.

He opens a door. It’s a large storage closet. There are folded tables and chairs, crates, buckets and mops. He pulls me inside and closes the door behind us.

The corners of his mouth curve in a masculine smile, hungry, knowing, so sexy. The way he looks at me, like he will devour me, sends a twist of lust curling low in my belly.

“You can’t mess me up,” I say. “I need to be able to go back out there looking like a normal person, not someone who’s just been fucked in a storage closet.”

“Of course. But you’ll know that I fucked you in the storage closet. You’ll think about it and it will make you hot and horny every time you do.”

He pulls me against him and lowers his mouth to mine, his lips warm and firm, his body hard and strong. He opens his mouth on mine, his kiss hot and deep. He bites my lower lip, gently, not enough to mark. Just enough to make me gasp and clutch his shoulders.

His palm slides along the naked skin of my shoulder, down the silk of my gown to stroke my nipple. The sensation is lush, the feel of him touching me through the smooth, cool cloth. His lips are on mine. The pad of his thumb strokes back and forth across my aching nipple. I’m so sensitive, every touch feels like it goes straight to my clit.

I close my hand on the hard length of him through his pants. He shifts his hips so he presses against my palm. I love the feel of him, huge and hard.

With a harsh exhalation, he undoes his pants, freeing his cock. He rips open a package and slides a condom on. Then he slides his fingers between my legs. I’m wet. Ready.

He pushes aside my thong, not even bothering to take them off, just baring my pussy to his fingers. He strokes me, spreading my moisture over my clit, teasing, tormenting.

I gasp as he lifts me, the slit of my dress falling open, the material cascading away as I wrap my legs around his waist and he guides his cock to my slick folds.

My head falls back as I hold on to his shoulders, my heart pounding, my pussy aching.

His hands are under my buttocks, supporting me, guiding me.

He pulls me closer as he thrusts into me. I cry out as he fills me, stretches me, pumping into me in a long, slow stroke. I tilt my hips to take him deeper, to take all of him. He’s so big, so thick. He feels so good.

In. Out. He takes me with deep, slow strokes.

I burn for him, thrusting against him, gasping, moaning as I try to increase the speed, the friction.

He shifts me so that each long thrust rubs my clit, pulling me into mindless need.

He holds my buttocks tighter, thrusting harder, pulling us both deeper into the spiral of aching need.

“Touch yourself,” he orders.

I obey. I slide my hand between our bodies, rubbing my clit as he fucks me faster, harder. I’m so close, poised on the precipice.

A low cry tears from my lips as I tip over the edge, my body convulsing around his cock, my orgasm taking me in crashing, surging waves.

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