Page 50 of Just This Once

And so damn tired of fighting it.

I dig my fingers into the soft strands of his hair and lock my feet at his back, earning a growl of approval from him. He pushes me up against the hard wooden wall, and my bottom lip stings from his teeth, but I love it.Needit.

I claw at him, any place I can get at, his neck, the slope of his shoulder, his back after I hike up his sweatshirt. His skin is hot and tastes like salt when I skate my tongue over it, sucking on his neck. I’ve never been particularly into vampire stories, but I suddenly want to know what his blood tastes like. Would it fill me up? Quench my thirst?

His hands are everywhere, in my hair, gripping my ass, digging into my sides. We are anything but graceful. Messy andraw, all clashing teeth and searching tongues. I can’t hear anything besides his panting breaths and my racing heart. But God, I feeleverything.

The pulsing desire settling between my legs and the relief of finally giving in. It has been agony.

I feel his trembling hands and his fading self-control as he accidentally rips my shirt. I don’t care.

Because I am just as desperate.

“Fuck, duchess,” he groans, trailing his lips over my cheek and ear, rolling his hips so his hard length pushes against my clit. “I think I might come in my pants.”

“No, don’t,” I laugh, my head thumping against the wall so he can pay attention to my throat, but he doesn’t. He stops, his eyes reflecting the twinkling lights above us as he smiles.

“I love your laugh.”

Then he thrusts against me, and I close my eyes. “I’ll be laughing at you a lot if you finish before we’ve even started.”

He grunts and spins around, moving so fast I’m disoriented, so I don’t understand what’s happening when he turns me away from him. I’ve barely found my balance or breath when he pops the button on my gray slacks, tugging the zipper down to slide his hand inside my panties. “You should know by now…” His teeth graze my jaw. “I take fucking you very seriously.”

Then two thick fingers find and press on my clit as he wraps his other hand around my throat, forcing my back against him and tilting my mouth up, taking no prisoners. I am utterly at his mercy.

But I don’t want to be anywhere else, and I reach behind me to hold on to his hips, rocking back against his cock impatiently, earning a hiss and another scratch of his teeth. Though he can’t lose the trace of laughter in his voice. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll get there.”

Then his mouth is on mine once again, his tongue invading me like his fingers do, pushing in, curling and thrusting. With him wrapped around me, I don’t feel the cold November night air, but I shiver when he shoves my pants down, giving him more room to work his fingers in and out of me. I’m a panting, delirious mess, my nipples hard points beneath my bra and shirt, and I’m clearly out of my mind, not thinking as I tear the rest of the buttons away, letting my favorite oversized shirt fall to the floor. In some far-off part of my brain, I think I should be upset I ruined it, but I don’t care. I don’t care about anything except the crackling fire in my belly and Dante’s breath against my ear.

He yanks the left cup of my bra down to pinch my nipple, but my ragged cry is too loud, and he slaps his hand to my mouth, rasping, “I didn’t insulate the walls, and you have the tendency to get noisy.”

“Fuck you,” I mumble under his palm, and I feel his smile against my temple.

“No,I’mfucking you. Now, come on my fingers, so I can fuck you with my cock.”

It’s a neat trick how my body responds to him, going off like a bomb, and I’m glad his hand is over my mouth to muffle my shout as I convulse under the weight of pleasure that has been building and bearing down on me for all these weeks.

I deserve a trophy for even lasting this long.

Or maybe he deserves one for bringing me to my knees.

Tearing apart my self-control with well-timed smiles and well-placed touches on my shoulder and back, ever supportive. Always a memory.

And now, here, in this tiny hideaway he made me, it is better than I remember.

I blink my eyes open to find him sucking on his wet fingers, the ones he had in me moments ago, before usingthose same fingers to drag my pants and underwear down to my ankles, and my skin pricks with goose bumps. He barely spares a glance down my body before he tears off his hoodie with a rough, “Bend over. Hands on the table.”

I do as he says, but I keep my gaze over my shoulder as he quickly undoes his jeans and pulls out his erection, the tip wide and glistening. “I don’t have a condom, but I’ve been tested, and I swear to God I’ll pull out. I swear, Taryn.”

It’s completely reckless and absurd, but the words are out before I consider any other answer. “Do it.”

I brace myself with wide feet, having already waited too long. I have no chance of getting pregnant, and I trust him when he makes promises.

The voice in the way back of my mind calls me every name in the book: stupid, idiot, fool. But I don’t care.

Never in my life have I cared less about the consequences of my actions. Because there is a fire inside me, and the only thing that can put it out is Dante.

“Please,” I whimper, and he shakes his head slowly, as if he can’t believe his good luck.

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