“No panties. You dirty whore.”
I bristled at his use of the derogatory term, the logical part of me offended. But my logical part wasn’t in charge—my dirty whore part was, and Dark Donna was only more turned on by his words.
His hand appeared at my neck again, and he pushed—his touch not rough but firm, demanding—until my cheek was against the wall. My nipples brushed the rough brick, and rain pelted my bare back. Every place his skin touched mine felt as if it were on fire. I was nothing but heady sensation—putty in his strong hands.
I arched my back, sticking my ass out even farther, and he flipped my skirt up to expose me to the dark alley.
Done wasting time, he reached between my legs and stroked me firmly, and my already heavy breathing kicked up another notch. His appreciative moan hummed at my back as his fingers glided through my wet folds effortlessly. He put one finger inside, making me gasp at the sudden intrusion, then twisted it as he removed it. Another finger joined the first, and he slid them in and out of me at a steady pace.
The hand at my neck disappeared, but my incoherent sound of protest morphed into one of ecstasy as Hendrix wrapped his arm around my front. His body crowded me once again, that cinnamon scent mingling with the fresh rain. With one hand still fucking me with his fingers from behind, the other went to my clit and started stroking in rhythm.
Another clap of thunder shook the ground, and the rain beat down even harder, plastering my hair to my face as I grunted. With every punishing thrust of Hendrix’s fingers, his other hand rubbed me up and down, and my tits scraped against the brick.
It didn’t take long before my orgasm was washing over me as intensely as the rain. I squeezed my eyes shut, seeing stars, as I clawed at the wall, desperately seeking something to hold on to as every muscle in my body tensed up in ecstasy.
“That’s it. I want your cream all over my hand.” Hendrix’s voice was strained and gravelly in my ear, his words only intensifying my orgasm as I writhed under his touch.
He removed his fingers and stroked me gently as I came down, my knees shaking, my breathing ragged. His hands clasped either side of my head, his forehead rested against my temple, and his warm breath caressed my cheek as the rain washed away the slick evidence of my pleasure from his hand.
After a few moments, he placed a gentle kiss on my cheek, my neck, my shoulder—his soft, warm lips such a contrast to the sharp, cold rain. He cupped my breasts, making me gasp, then surprised me by lifting the two front bits of my halter top over my chest and backing away to tie them.
I frowned. Didn’t he want me to return the favor, get him off? But I didn’t really have time to think about that.
My knees buckled, but before I ended up on my ass in a dirty alleyway, Hendrix’s strong arms wrapped around me and held me against his chest. His steel-hard erection dug into my ass, but he didn’t rub up against me. He just whispered against my wet skin, “I got you.”
What the fuck is happening? Usually, the guy would make sure he got off, regardless of whether I did, and within about two minutes, he’d tuck himself back into his pants and disappear. I was fine with it—preferred it, actually. But I found myself leaning back against Hendrix, allowing myself to relax farther into his arms.
When he bent down and scooped me up, the voice in my head demanding that he “put me down this instant, you Neanderthal” hardly even sounded convincing. I rested my head on his shoulder, breathing him in, as he grabbed my purse off the top of the dumpster and dropped it in my lap.
“Where’d you park?” he asked as he set off toward the front of the building. The words reverberated through his chest, just loud enough for me to hear over the rain.
I lifted a lazy hand and pointed to the back corner of the lot. It was nice to have someone take care of me for a change. I’d worry about the terrifying implications later.
Chapter Eight
Hendrix
Even soaked from head to toe, she was light in my arms. I’d gone hard at the gym that afternoon, but I felt as if I could carry her all the way back to Devilbend if I had to.
My shoes squelched in the gravel as I trudged through the easing rain past rows of parked cars. Donna readjusted herself in my grip and turned her nose into the crook of my neck. She took a long inhale, then licked me.
My steps faltered.
My cock was straining against my jeans, demanding I bend her over the hood of one of these cars and do as she asked in the first place—fuck her raw. But I’d promised myself I was done doing risky, stupid shit, and having unprotected sex with a chick I barely knew was the definition of risky. Donna was probably on the pill and clean—she was wound way too tightly not to be on top of every little detail of her life. But her very presence here indicated a streak of recklessness too. I couldn’t take the chance.
I chuckled and decided to ignore her hot little tongue on my throat and the steel rod in my pants. “What are you doing?”
“I just wanted to see if you taste as good as you smell,” she murmured and scratched the back of my head, sending tingles down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold rain.
“What do I smell like?”
She sighed. “Like expensive cologne and cinnamon and . . . sex.” She punctuated the sentence by licking my neck again.
I hid my groan beneath a clearing of my throat and looked around, desperate for something, anything, to distract me from this torture.
“Fuck.” I stopped and turned. I’d walked right past my car.
Donna finally lifted her head from my shoulder, and just like that, she had my full, undivided attention again.
We stared at each other—only inches between us—and I forgot I even had a car, let alone where I’d parked it. Wait. Wasn’t I supposed to be taking her to her car anyway?
“Hendrix,” she whispered, leaning forward.
I mirrored her movement, pressing my forehead to hers. “Yeah?”
“What . . .” Her gaze bored into mine with increasing intensity. The orgasm high was wearing off, and her mind was kicking back into overdrive, trying to make sense of it all. I held her just a little closer, fully aware of what was about to happen but hoping to prolong the moment anyway.
“Shit.” She squeezed her eyes shut, as if trying to wash a nightmare from her mind’s eye. Then she licked those delicious lips and leaned away, no longer looking at me.
She pushed against my chest and wriggled her legs. Resisting the urge to hold on tighter was a Herculean effort, but I managed it.
“Put me down,” she growled, but I was already bending down, already releasing my hold, already missing her warmth . . .
I’d known it was coming, but it still made me want to throw something when she looked at me with a sneer.
“Ah, there it is.” I stuffed my hands into my pockets and smirked. No choice now but to go back to our bickering default. I wasn’t about to show her how badly I wanted to pull her back into my arms when she was looking at me like that. “The instant regret. Aren’t you glad I only fucked you with my fingers now?”
“There isn’t a single thing about this night I’m glad about.” Ouch . . .
As the rain petered out to a pathetic drizzle, she turned and started to walk away.
I watched her hips sway, her spine straight and shoulders back. She’d just spent time in the seediest establishment for miles, had let me fingerfuck her in the dirty alley next to a dumpster, had a face covered in smeared makeup, yet she was still walking away with confidence. As if she owned this place.