Page 35 of Knocked Up by My Fake Fiancé
Her scent fills the small space, heavy and sweet, pushing me past reason. I'm drowning in it, in her. When she slides her hand between her legs and rubs her clit, looking straight at me, it's over.
"Now," she pants. "Fuck me. Now.Please."
Thatpleasedetonates whatever control I had left.
I drop to my knees, gripping her thigh, and drag my tongue up her slick seam in one slow stroke. She moans—loud, unrestrained. I want to hear it again. My tongue circles her clit, teasing until it hardens beneath the pressure. My hand finds her breast, thumb rolling over her nipple until she shudders.
She's shaking, clutching my hair, riding my face with abandon. I eat her greedily, lapping between her clit and her entrance, alternating speed until she's gasping my name. When I slide two fingers inside and curl them up, she breaks apart, body bowing, voice echoing off metal walls.
Her climax hits hard; I don't let up. I want to feel it, taste it, own it.
She collapses against the wall, trembling. I stand, haul her into my lap as I sit back on the floor, and in one motion, I'm inside her and she's hot, wet, and impossibly tight.
"Jesus," I choke out, gripping her hips. The feel of her around me is heaven and punishment all at once. She moves, slow at first, then faster, taking what she wants. The slap of skin, the rough metal beneath us, her breathless little sounds—it's chaos, perfect chaos.
She rides me hard, hair sticking to her flushed cheeks, eyes glassy with pleasure. God, she's beautiful like this—unrestrained, wild. I meet her thrust for thrust, holding her steady as she trembles on the edge again.
When she tightens around me, I lose it completely. A raw sound rips from my throat as release tears through me, white-hot and absolute.
I should not be doing this.Weshould not be doing this. But how can something that feels as good as this be wrong? Am I losing my mind?
"Damn," I hiss, my head falling forward into her shoulder. She wraps her arms around my neck, holding on, as I piston my hips into her, the pressure building so powerful it feels like I'm going to dislocate my spine.
She bites my shoulder, groans, and comes once more.
"Fuck! Jenna!" I arch into her and have the presence of mind to lift her up and away before I splash my cum on the side of her thigh.
God. My hands shake as I breathe into her shoulder. She still holds onto me, spent, her body shaking with it, and I have the craziest urge to kiss her right now.
That's when I snap back to myself.
Fuck. What have I done?
I set her down, carefully, so she is lying on the floor, her back leaning against the elevator wall, spent, drenched in sweat and sexual juices, breathing heavily.
For a few seconds, the only sound is the tick of cooling metal and our breathing. The air feels too thick to swallow. Heat and the sharp scent of sweat and skin hang in the box like a confession. I drag one hand down my face, forcing my heartbeat to slow, but every pulse still seems to echo off the walls.
Jenna doesn't speak. She's still slumped against the wall, head tilted back, eyes half-closed. I can't tell if she's dazed or furious—or both. I want to reach for her again, not out of hunger this time, but to make sure she's real, to anchor myself. Instead, I grip the rail behind me and stare at the polished metal doors until my reflection steadies.
What the hell was that? All the rules I built for myself—erased in one flash of light. I tell myself it was stress, proximity, whatever excuse will stop the guilt gnawing at my ribs. But the truth is simpler: I wanted her, and I took her.
When she finally moves, the small rustle of fabric is deafening. She straightens her clothes without meeting my eyes. The distance between us is maybe three feet, but it might as well be a mile. I can still feel her heat on my hands. I can still taste her breath in mine.
There's an emotion coursing through me, and it's not one I'm used to feeling. The best word I can give to describe it would beshame. Grayson Wolfe is always in full control. Grayson Wolfe never gives way to raw, animal instincts. What the fuck is happening to me?
I disengage the emergency-stop button, just to hear something mechanical, something that isn't us, and the car jolts back into motion. The hum fills the silence, but it doesn't erase it. It never does.
I clear my throat and try to avoid looking at her, as I clean myself off and tuck my cock back into my pants. I'm too much of a coward to meet her eyes right now.
I hear her adjusting herself, too, and even though we're in my elevator, this scene is so reminiscent of the office sex that I almost laugh.
Deja Vu. Pathetic of me.
The lift continues its ascent, just as if nothing had happened. I could almost believe it hadn't. That we'd never stopped mid-journey to rut like two animals. Almost… but not quite.
I sigh. "I think it goes without saying?—"
"Yeah, I remember the speech," she shoots back. "I'll take care of it if anything happens. I know the drill."
