He thrusts into me, his mouth crashing into mine to swallow my moans of pleasure. His muscles clench and ripple against me, and I gasp as my thighs clench even tighter around his grooved waist. My nails dig into him, raking down his back and over his ink as his shoulders bunch and clench.
He growls like a beast into my mouth and then drops his lips to my neck again, biting and sucking on the delicate skin there before moving to my collar bone. I cry out and then bury my mouth in his neck, biting down like he did to me. He hisses and thrusts his hips even harder, making me moan wildly as he starts to plunge into me harder and faster.
He grips me tight, holding me in place as he drives into me over and over, sinking that huge, gorgeous cock into me again and again until I swear I’m seeing double. My whole body trembles, my head spins, and my pulse races like an engine as we drive harder and harder towards that sweet release.
This isn’t a hookup; this is the cosmos aligning. This isn’t insanity, it’s clarity. And this isn’t sex, this is religion.
I cling to him, utterly losing myself and completely letting myself go as we crash together again and again. My arms are around his neck, my legs tight around his waist, and his big hands holding me and cupping me like something claimed and something treasured at the same time.
He plunges deep, and as I start to let go and fall, I can feel him swelling so big inside. I crush my lips to his, and with my final breath, I scream my release into his mouth. No warning, no “I’m almost there,” because I know he already knows. Somehow, I know he can tell without me saying a word. And when I come, it’s like he’s timed it exactly.
“Come for me,” he purrs in that thick accent right in my ear just as I crest over the edge. And with a cry, my entire body spasms and clenches tight to him, and I explode.
He roars and sinks his huge cock to the hilt inside of me, and suddenly, I moan as I feel him following me over. He groans, his hands so tight on me that I know he’ll leave marks, but I don’t care. This is release, and freedom, and letting go, and I want it all. He kisses me fiercely as his cock pulses inside, pumping rope after rope of hot cum deep into me. I cling to him, like I’m holding on for dear life while the climax thunders through me, until I realize we’re still, and panting.
He doesn’t let go. He doesn’t pull away. He just holds me—tightly, possessively, and like I belong to him. And in this moment, I do. Whatever comes after, right now, I’m his.
I sink against him, burying my face in his neck. My eyes open, and I look past him at the wall behind the counter.
My heart skips.
Oh fuck.
The race—Bryce’s stupid fucking race, and he’ll lose it if I’m not there as his perfect little prop.
“Fuck, shit,” I gasp, pulling back.
My stranger arches a brow.
“Not exactly the feedback I was looking for, but okay.”
I giggle, biting my lip.
“No, sorry, I just…” I swallow and look at him. “That was really good.”
“I happen to agree.”
“No, I mean, that was…” I blush. “That was fucking really good.”
He grins that roguish smile at me that gets my pulse racing and my body suddenly aching for more. But, I’m already late, and making Bryce Barnes wait is usually a really, really terrible idea.
“It’s just that I have to be somewhere.”
I realize it’s quiet, and I look outside and realize that it’s stopped raining, and the storm has passed. The stranger frowns.
“What time is it?”
“Just after ten.”
He swears. “Fuck, same here. Gotta be somewhere.”
He kisses me slowly and then eases out, making me gasp as his size leaves me. He helps me down from the counter, and I blush as I grab a napkin to clean up with. He grins, handing me my panties from the floor which is somehow both a chivalrous and totally filthy move all at the same time.
“Thanks,” I say quickly, yanking my underwear and uniform back on. My other clothes are in my truck—I’ll change when I get to the track.
“Fuck,” I hiss again, glancing at the clock again. He’s gonna kill me.
“Hang the fuck on, who’s going to kill you?”
Oh, lovely, I said it out loud. Great. I cringe and clear my throat, turning back to him. “I—no one, I just have to get to this thing.”
He frowns deeply.
“You married?”
I glance up sharply from putting my shoes back on. “No,” I say quickly, shaking my head. “No, God no.”
His gorgeous blue eyes narrow. “I don’t play games like that, darlin’.”
“I’m not married,” I hiss again, holding my very ring-less hand up before I turn to collect my purse and things from under the counter.
“But you belong to someone.”
I whirl back on him with fury in my eyes and in my voice that surprises even me. “I don’t belong to fucking anyone.”
He grins. “Just tell me straight.”
“That’s the straight. Not that it’s any of your business—”
“Well, it is.”
I roll my eyes. “Well, I’m not married, and I’m not anyone’s.”
But, I am. I am owned, in a sense, and I hate it.
“Anyways, you should get going.”
His look hardens. “It’s like that, huh?”
No, I want you to stay and fuck me another hundred times. Then I want to drag you to my bed, just you and me, and keep kissing you. Also, marry me?
But instead of saying all of that like a crazy person, I just frown, my mouth tight.
“Yeah, it’s like that.”
It has to be like that, because if I’m late like this, it’s not outside of Barnes’s style to either send someone or come himself to the diner to “check on me” without a head’s up. He’s done it before, and if it happens to happen tonight, well, that would be very not good.
If Barnes were to catch the two of us here together alone, it’d be trouble for me. But it’d be worse for my stranger. He’s a huge, built guy, but it’s not like Barnes would fight fair. He’s a pussy and a sadist, and he’d probably have six of his guys jump the Englishman.
My stranger locks eyes with me and just nods as he pulls his jeans up. He tugs his shirt and hoodie back on and shrugs.
“Well, thanks for the coffee.” He frowns. “Why do I feel like tipping right now would be fucked up?”
I grin. “I think you already did.”
I blush at my own dirty joke, but he just levels that hard, smoldering gaze at me.
“You okay?”
I blink. “Um, yeah?”
“No, really.”
“Y—yeah,” I force a smile, trying not to think about the prick I have to play nice with now.
“Aren’t waitresses supposed to wear name tags?” his lips pull into that roguish grin again. “I don’t know your name,” he growls.
I bite my lips, my eyes holding his.
“You’re right,” I say softly, smiling.
He grins thinly. “Nice to meet you, stranger.”
“You too,” I whisper.
Please don’t go. Please don’t let this night ever end.
But of course, it has to, and it does. He looks at me once more, grabs his jacket, turns, and walks across the diner to the door. He half turns at the door, but if he was about to say something else, he stops himself. And with a nod and a ring of the bell over the door, he’s gone.