Page 94 of Can't Get Enough

She pants above me, her breasts heaving like we’ve run a mile. I let her leg slide off my shoulder and stand, pressing her into the wall, wrapping my hand around her throat and crashing my mouth down on hers. She bites my lips, chases my tongue, licks my teeth and the lining inside my jaw. It’s a feral kiss, both of us drunk on the taste of her, on the taste of our mingled passion. The need to be inside of her is locomotive. A driving, churning ache that must be relieved.

I turn her to face the wall, slipping my fingers between her legs and pushing back inside. Her gasps and moans encourage me to push in another.

“I want to fuck you, Hen.”

She flattens her hands to the wall and pushes back onto my hand.

“Do it,” she chokes out. “Hurry up.”

“You want it?” I ask, releasing one finger to caress between her legs.

She drops her head to the wall and swivels into the contact, increasing the pressure of my finger on that bud of nerves.

“Yeah,” she almost slurs, sounding as drunk as I feel. “Please.”

I pull my fingers out and touch them to my lips.

“You taste so damn good,” I groan.

She presses her ass back against me restlessly. “Come on, Mav.”

I push the hair aside and over her shoulder, taking in the long expanse of her flawless back and the exaggerated jut of her ass from her waist. My hands actually shake when I get my pants open and down. I nudge her feet wider and with one hand angle her hips back so I can push up and into her. I slide in smoothly, perfectly. We both gasp when her body clenches around me.

“Fuuuuuck.” The word erupts from me and I tighten my hands at her hips. “I’m raw.”

She reaches behind us and grabs my ass, pressing me deeper inside. Her body greedily sucks me in, and a groan pushes past my lips.

“I’ve been tested,” she pants. “And I’m on birth control, but I don’t… we can’t—”

“I’ll pull out,” I cut in, breathing heavily at her neck. I don’t want her worrying about anything except how good this feels. “I’m negative, too, but I’ll still pull out.”

Every thrust drives me deeper inside, and it’s not just her body clamping around me every time I push in and withdraw. What’s happening between our bodies is only a portion of it. Something connective is growing between us. Every gasp and moan knits it. Strengthens it.

The door swings open and we both freeze. I’m still buried so deep, Hendrix whimpers when I shift the slightest bit. I curl my hand around her mouth to stifle her cries. The screen barely covers us, and one sound would alert whoever just entered of our presence.

“I hate to leave early,” a woman drawls. “But I have a flight to catch.”

“No problem,” a man answers. “You have your ticket?”

My hips are flush to Hendrix’s ass, barely a breath separating our bodies as we wait, holding our cries captive. Her pussy spasms around me and I have to move, just little thrusts that make her bite into my hand. Finally the door closes behind the two guests, and Hendrix pushes against me, reaching one hand back to grip the back of my neck.

“Get it, Mav,” she moans. “Shit.”

I pull almost all the way out and then slam inside again. Hendrix pounds her fist lightly against the wall, the movement all the more powerful for its restraint. This is not how I envisioned our first time together—a symphony of muffled cries and suppressed gasps. I wanted to hear her scream my name and see her spread open beneath me. Instead it’s this rushed act that I should have been strong enough to resist, but couldn’t.

Next time I’ll feast on her and she’ll feast on me. I don’t allow myself to thinkIf I get a next time. After this, there’s no way I’ll go the rest of my life without having her again.

“Touch yourself,” I command, knowing how close I am. My slow, steady strokes have dissolved into an erratic, frantic rhythm. I can’t hold out much longer. She reaches between her legs and in a few touches, cries out, tensing and clenching around me. I push in deeper, harder.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I chant, losing all sense of myself for a span of seconds. We could be center stage for all I care.

I pull out just in time to spill into my hand and on her smooth skin, barely resisting the primal urge to smear myself all over her. Bare breasts flattened to the wall, Hendrix tips her head forward. She draws in harsh breaths and her shoulders tremble with the receding wave of our passion. I kiss the curve of her neck and pluck the silk handkerchief from the pocket of my suit to clean us up. I make quick work of it, but she looks over her shoulder and our eyes hold in the intimacy-charged seconds while I set us both to rights.

The first strains of “Happy Birthday” creep under the closed door, snapping us back to the party.

Hendrix turns and pulls away from my touch to gather her discarded clothes.

“I can’t believe I did that.” She clutches the dress and shapewear to her chest, hiding her luscious breasts from me.

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