I hoped I’d find out.
Her arms slipped around my waist, bringing me back to her. I raised one arm and shifted to pull her into my side.
I liked the way she felt there.
“Some view you’ve got here.” I nodded out the window.
She chuckled. “A gift from my father.” There was approximately zero love in her voice.
“The view or the apartment?”
“He’s so self-important, he’d take credit for both.”
“So you guys are close then?” I joked, and she nudged me.
“He left when I was little, but the divorce left me with a sizable trust fund. Honestly, I think he just put the money there so Mom wouldn’t get it.”
I thumbed her bare arm. “He sounds like a real delight.”
“An absolute joy.” She turned to face me, looping her arms around my neck. “What’s your last name?”
There it was—the second lie.
I swallowed the knot in my throat. “Jepsen. Why?”
“Just like to at least know the last name of guys I bring home. Makes me feel more responsible.”
A chuckle through my nose as I brushed a loose lock of hair from her cheek.
“You look worried,” she noted with a smile. “Nervous?” Her hands moved to my buttons again, unbuttoning the one she’d left off on.
A laugh huffed out of me. “I was just thinking about you straddling my bike.”
“And that worries you?”
“Only if it doesn’t happen again.”
“Tell me when we can ride again.”
“Whenever you want.”
“A dangerous offer.” Another button.
“I’ve got more where that came from.”
“I bet you do.” With the flick of her fingers, the opening of my shirt widened. Red lips met the hollow between my pecs, the softest of kisses followed by a light sweep of her tongue that sent a shock straight to my cock.
When she made to move lower, I stopped her, slid my hands down her arms, to her wrists. I stepped into her, bringing her hands together behind her back, clasping her wrists in one fist. “How about I show you.” With a tug toward the floor, she gasped softly, arching her back, exposing her throat to me.
And I took the offering.
It wasn’t slow, but it wasn’t careless, the open and close of my lips, the sweeping circles of my tongue against salty skin. She couldn’t move, restrained by my hands and the extension of her body, her lips parted to the ceiling. My hand slid to her throat, holding it gently, thumbing her chin, my eyes on those lips.
And then they were mine.
My mouth and hers were a seam, and I kissed her as if I could swallow her. Breath loud and hard as if I could breathe her in. Tongues seeking as if we could consume each other.
If I could, I would.
Arm around her waist, I lifted her, not breaking the kiss as I took two steps and pinned her to the window with my hips. A well-placed shift pressed the length of me to her core.
She broke away with a hum of pleasure, her brows drawn, eyes closed, lip between her teeth. I watched her greedily as I exposed her thighs, only stopping the grind of my hips to slip a hand between us, her legs clamping tighter to bear her weight. My fingers hooked in the web of her fishnets and pulled, rewarding me with a satisfying tear of nylon. And with a stroke, my fingertip was met with the slick heat of her. A rush of desire sent a pulse to my cock.
I tested the silken valley, charted the fluttering flesh, circled the swollen tip of her, earning me another moan.
“Was this just bare on my bike?” I slid my middle finger into her heat.
A gasp, this one joined with a flex of that tightened her thighs and straightened her back when she pushed her body into my hand to get me deeper.
“Yes,” she hissed—as an answer or a plea, I didn’t know.
“Fuck,” I breathed, my eyes on her lips and my mind on what was in my hand.
Her hands moved from their clench in my hair straight to my belt buckle, and I didn’t stop her. I didn’t stop touching her. Again, I swallowed her moans as she peeled back layers of my clothes until her hand fisted around me. A stroke. Another, my crown in her palm and her core in mine.
I reclaimed my hand, though she didn’t, my heart a jackhammer behind my sternum. Shaky hands retrieved my wallet, found a condom, and discarded the rest. She took it, lifting her chin for a kiss, one that I gave, my hands framing her face and hers busy, first rolling it on, then guiding me to the slick center of her.
The kiss broke with a thrust of my hips. Broken breaths and another thrust, and I came to a stop, the two of us panting and hot, eyes hungry. The city stretched up behind her in shades of blue and squares of light, and she was pale against it. Flaxen hair and skin like cream. Eyes like midnight, and she was sparkling starlight.
With a roll of my hips, I pulled out, only to fill her again slowly. Deliberately.
She sighed, her lashes fluttering closed, head lolling, giving me another advantageous stretch of her long neck. Though one hand was busy bracing her by way of her thigh, the other was free to trail fingertips down the line of her neck, the line of her collarbone, the swell of her breast, the rosy curve of her nipple spilling from her corset as I drove into her. I grabbed the bottom hem of the corset and pulled, freeing them.
I wanted to slow down, to take my time, to savor the sight of her breasts, round and snowy and tipped with dusky rose as they jostled from the force of my hips. But that glorious sight drove me on instead. There would be time to go slow.
That time was not now.
My free hand left its place on her breast and headed south, my thumb seeking the place I knew she wanted me. And when I stroked her, she sucked in a breath, her eyes clamping shut as a flush rose from her breasts to her neck to her cheek. Breath shallow. Body tight.
An uncontrollable draw of pleasure pulled from deep in me.
There was no stopping the pump of my hips or my thundering heart, spurred by desire and the promise of release. My circling thumb begged her to catch up, the point of no return far behind me. A flick. A press. She gasped.
“Come,” I growled. Because if she didn’t, I was going to.
Her eyes opened slowly, her pant from parted lips matching the rhythm of my hips. A purposeful stroke of my thumb, and they slammed shut again.
A slow tightening around me, a painful squeeze, her body pressing into mine in opposite force, a rising whimper that burst with her pleasure in a pulse that pulled me in, pulled me deep.
“Thank fuck,” I breathed, leaning in, arching over her, slapping a palm on the window as I slammed into her, my eyes on her as she rode the end of her high.
She looked up at me, eyes lust-drunk and smoldering.
And that was all it took.
Blinded by sensation, stripped of everything but this, of my body and hers, I drove into her until I was spent, still holding her against the window with my body, her legs trembling around my waist and mine shuddering with pleasure.
My heart hadn’t slowed, but the rest of me caught up. And her lips were waiting to occupy mine with a languid, luxurious kiss.
With a growl, I swept her up, keeping her around my waist where my pants hung open, half off my ass as I moved to the hallway where I figured the bedrooms were. She leaned back, laughing, her chin tipped and eyes closed. The picture of freedom. The epitome of joy.
I padded down the hall, knowing the image would stay with me for a long, long time.