Page 32 of Ansel

My chest tightened. “I hurt you.” The words were low, rough, because even now, saying them out loud felt like shoving glass down my throat.

Her eyes flicked to mine. “Yeah, you did.”

“And I didn’t just hurt you. I dismissed you. I took you for granted. I was a selfish asshole, Neha.”

“You were never selfish…but yes to the asshole part,” she joked.

I let out a slow breath, raking a hand through my hair. “I was scared.”

“I know.”

“Of wanting you.” The truth slipped out before I could stop it. But I didn’t want to take it back. Not now. “I always have. From the beginning.”

Her breath hitched, and the air between us became thick and electric. Every molecule vibrated with the unspoken desire that had been simmering for weeks.

She was a fucking vision, her red dress clinging to her curves like it was painted on, her tits straining against the fabric, her nipples already hard pebbles begging for attention.

I felt predatory as I raked my eyes over her body, my cock already a steel rod in my pants, aching to be freed.

I wanted to say something, anything and then I thought, fuck that. In one fluid motion, I grabbed her by the waist, yanking her against me so hard she gasped.

“Tell me you love me.”

She looked at me, her eyes clear, her smile wide. “I love you.”

Our mouths crashed together in a messy, desperate kiss, tongues tangling like we were trying to drink each other in.

Neha moaned into my mouth, her hands clawing at my shirt, tearing it open as buttons flew across the room.

Her hands were cool against my bare chest, my muscles taut and slick with a thin sheen of sweat. Foreplay had been going on for months, and now weneededthis!

I spun her around, pinning her against the wall of windows with my body, my erection pressing into her ass. She whimpered.

My hands were everywhere, groping her tits through the dress, then grabbing the hem to yank it up over her hips. I slid my hands under her panties to cup her.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” I growled, grinding against her ass as my fingers teased her clit in rough, circular motions.

Neha cried out, her hips bucking against my hand, her back arching as I felt her pleasure ripping through her, pulsing.

“I need you inside me,” she panted, her voice a desperate plea.

I didn’t need to be told twice. I unzipped my pants with one hand, my cock springing free, thick and throbbing, the tip already slick with pre-cum.

I found a condom in my wallet, managed with shaking unsteady hands to cover myself.

“Hurry,” she protested.

I grabbed her hips, positioning myself at her entrance, and with a brutal thrust, I buried myself to the hilt in one go. Neha screamed as I bottomed out inside her.

“Look at us,” I ordered.

Her eyes lifted, and she saw our reflection on the mirrored window.

I plunged into her, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the apartment, mingling with our moans and gasps.

My hands gripped her hips so hard I knew I’d leave bruises, but I didn’t care—I wanted my marks on her, wanted her to feel me even when I wasn’t with her. These emotions were primitive, foreign, but then I’d never made love with a woman I loved.

“You like that, baby?” I snarled, my cock pistoning in and out of her dripping pussy. “You like getting wrecked like this?”

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