Page 41 of Wristlocked
Same as me.
“I have to go.” I stand too quickly, knocking against the table and splashing my drink across its surface. Gale pushes back and makes to join me, but Celeste stops him with a hand on his arm.
“Oh, Gia, don’t do that,” she says, still unruffled. “You haven’t even had your dinner yet, and the food here really is marvelous.”
“Thanks, but I’m not hungry.” Even in my silky camisole and miniskirt, I’m too hot, and I need to escape.Now. I grab my jacket from the back of my chair and turn to go. Gale murmurs something to Celeste too low for me to hear, and then he’s at my side, a steadying hand on my elbow.
As soon as we’re back on the cold street, I shake him loose and take off, but he’s on me in two strides, dragging me around to face him.
“I told you not to listen.”
“Itried.”
“No you didn’t.” He cups my jaw and runs his thumb over my lower lip, uncharacteristically gentle. “But I’m glad. You were fucking brilliant in there.”
“It wasn’tbrilliant, Gale. It was awkward and awful.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? You didn’t take one minute of her shit.”
“I didn’t realize what it was going to feel like to see you together,” I confess.
He drops his hand, studying my face. Any second, he’ll ask the question, and I’ll have to decide whether I’m brave enough to tell him the truth.
“I’m sorry,” he says instead, and I’m so unprepared for it, I burst into tears. “Fuck. Gia, I’m so sorry.” He’s kissing my eyelids and catching my tears on his thumbs, and my selfish heart is in a million shameful pieces. It’s too much.
“You made me a promise tonight,” I challenge, shoving my hands into his chest. His eyes darken, but I tell myself it’s only desire and don’t look for the pain I might find underneath. “I want you to hurt me now, Gale.”
For one raw, eternal second, he hesitates, and my soul hangs in the balance. Then his hand is in my hair and he’s dragging me off the sidewalk, down into the tiny alley between the fake pawn shop’s lit windows and the dark bookstore next door. A short flight of stairs near the back leads to a dark metal door, cigarette butts scattered across the concrete steps. It’s dirty and wretched and perfect.
He shoves me up against the back of the stairs, and my hands fly up to grab the railing before my face connects with the cold metal. His hard, hot body is flush against my back, and he tilts my head painfully to crash his mouth down on mine.
He kisses me like the first time, all ravenous tongue and scraping teeth, but this time I fight back. With his other hand, he hikes my skirt around my waist before taking my thong in his fist and ripping it from my body in a burn of tearing lace. I scream into his mouth and cling to the metal bar, and Iwantwith a hunger so deep, even my monster doesn’t recognize it.
His hand is between my legs, reaching from behind to pinch my clit and smear the flood of my arousal up the crack of my ass. He presses his thumb against the tight ring of muscle as he slides two fingers into my sex, and I clench and shudder in his grip. Releasing my mouth, he drags his lower lip up to my ear, teasing me with the silver ring.
“Are you ready for me?” His voice is a low growl vibrating my liquid bones.
“Yes,” I gasp, squirming against his hand.
“Do you want to know what I’m going to do to you?”
“God, yes. Tell me all of it.Please.”
His fingers swirl inside me as his thumb presses harder, and his other hand is vicious in my hair.
“First, I’m going to bury myself inside this tight pussy of yours until your monster is screaming my name. And when you come, you better drench my fucking cock, because that’s the only lube you’re going to get when I take it out and fuck this pretty little asshole.”
Oh. My. God.
On the last word, he draws his fingers out of me and kicks my feet apart. Panic surges in a euphoric wave, and my monster whispers greedily behind the sudden stab in my heart. Releasing my hair, he reaches around to grab the railing as I sag against his arm. His belt buckle clinks through the roaring in my ears, and when he enters me, his body is the only thing keeping me standing. One hand presses on my lower back, bending my hips over the concrete lip of the landing, even as I cling to the cold bars. The angle is unholy, and each grind of his hips threads him deeper into all my secret places until I’m spilling over the edge of an orgasm so sharp and electric it almost hurts.
And my monster screams his name.
He pulls out while the aftershock is still quaking through me and covers my body with his own as he lines the head of his cock up with my rear entrance.
“Do you want me to be gentle?” he asks, rough against my skin.
“I want you to give me what I need.”
