Page 24 of Blitz
“No.” I wasn’t patient enough for beds and pretenses of romance. I pushed him back down. “Here.”
Something flashed in his eyes—surprise, maybe, or recognition that this was about control for me as much as pleasure. He surrendered with a nod, his hands settling on my hips as I took control.
I yanked at his jeans, shoving them down enough to free him. His cock sprang forth, hard and straining against his stomach. I couldn’t look, and I lifted my hips, pushing my own shorts down my thighs.
“Wait,” he panted, his hand catching my wrist. “Protection?—”
“I’m negative, PrEP,” I growled, impatient. “You?”
“Yes, but?—”
“Then shut up.” I spat into my palm, wrapping my hand around both of us. The contact sent electricity sparking up my spine, and his head fell back to the stairs with a thud. His hands gripped my thighs hard enough to bruise, and I welcomed the pain—something real to anchor me as everything else threatened to spin out of control.
“Look at me,” he demanded.
“No.”
“I don’t want it like this,” he managed, voice strained. “Not angry.”
“Once and done,” I growled, squeezing harder, eyes screwed tight.
“Trick—” My name was a plea on his lips, and I silenced him with another brutal kiss. I didn’t want to hear whatever he was about to say. I didn’t want soft words or feelings complicating what should be simple.
Our bodies moved together in a desperate rhythm, sweat-slicked skin sliding against the rough fabric of the stairs. The angle was awkward and uncomfortable, and there was nothing gentle or tender about it—just need, pure and primal.
His hands moved from my thighs to cup my face, trying to slow the kiss. I bit his lip in response, drawing a growl from deep in his throat. But he wouldn’t be deterred, his thumbs stroking my cheekbones with infuriating tenderness even as our bodies collided with bruising force.
“Stop,” I hissed into his mouth.
“Stop what?” he asked, his breath hot as sin on my lips.
“Stop making this something it’s not.”
He laughed, the sound vibrating through his chest and into mine. “You still don’t get it, do you? It alreadyissomething.”
I increased my pace, determined to bring us both to the edge before he could say anything else that might crack my carefullyconstructed walls. His hips bucked up to meet my strokes, his breathing ragged. I could feel the tension building, coiling tight in my gut, my thighs trembling with the effort of maintaining control.
“Fuck! Trick!” When he came, it pushed me over the edge. My body clenched around nothing as I spilled between us, hot and messy across his stomach. I collapsed against him, face buried in his neck, trying to catch my breath as aftershocks rippled through me.
For a moment, there was only the sound of our ragged breathing and the distant tick of a clock somewhere in the house. Reality began seeping back in, cold and unwelcome. What had I done?
I pushed myself up, avoiding his eyes as I fumbled to pull my shorts back up. My knees ached from the hard edges of the stairs, and tomorrow, I’d have bruises to remind me of this moment of weakness.
“Trick,” he said softly, reaching for me.
I jerked away, nearly stumbling as I stood. My body felt as if it didn’t belong to me—shaky, raw, burning with a dozen things I couldn’t name. I wanted to scream. To cry. To punch something until the pressure cracked my chest open. But nothing made sense. Not the kiss. Not the way his hands had felt on me. Not the terrifying ache twisting through me now, the one that felt too close to grief. I didn’t understand what I was feeling—regret? Disgust? Or was it fear? I’d spent years burying this part of myself, and now it was breaking loose, and I had no map to follow. “Don’t.”
He sat up slowly, wincing as he adjusted his clothing. A red mark bloomed on his neck where my mouth had been. The sight of it sent a confusing mix of pride and shame coursing through me. I pulled out my phone to call a ride share, and he took it from me before I was done.
“Stay.”
“No.”
“We can talk.”
“I’m not fucking talking.”
“So that’s it?” he asked, still sitting on the stairs, gazing up at me with those eyes that saw too much of me. “We just pretend this never happened?”
