“Do you want me to fuck you?” There is an edge to the question that makes it feel dirty, maybe even wrong. But before I can understand why, I’m distracted by his mouth, taking mine in a searing kiss while he uses his free hand to yank my dress up around my waist. When he lifts me off my feet I lean back into the wall. Cool air brushes against my upper thighs, then the heat of his hand chases it away. There is no gentleness in his touch as his fingers dive between my legs, sliding the material covering me aside.

“Jesus, Franny,” he hisses against my mouth, his fingers sinking inside me. “You’re soaking wet.”

I whimper in response.

Never in my life have I had an orgasm that I didn’t have to work hard for, but the moment his thumb circles my clit with his fingers still inside me, heat pools in my lower belly, and my legs start to shake. I fight it, fight the urge to come, because I want more. I want him inside me.

Sliding my hand down the front of his pants, I wrap my fist around him and pull him free.

“Fuck,” he grunts, moving his mouth to my ear, dragging my earlobe between his teeth.

Then, before I have a moment to prepare, he’s sliding inside me. He’s so thick and long it hurts as he fills me.

But it’s the most beautiful pain I have ever felt in my life.

Back arching, I cry out as he fucks me with abandon, pulling me down onto him hard, each thrust going deeper than the last. It’s messy and raw, and everything I didn’t know I was missing.

Dragging down the front of my dress with his free hand, he roughly grabs my breast, tugging my nipple between his fingers. The sensation is all it takes to send me over the edge. Overwhelmed, I drop my head forward and latch onto his shoulder with my teeth, listening to him groan before he plants himself deep inside me, where I feel his cock pulse as he comes.

Still shuddering with the aftermath of my orgasm, I let go of him with my teeth and tuck my face into his neck, feeling his body go rigid against mine. Outside the heat of the moment, he must feel the pain of my bite.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, closing my eyes, heat climbing up my chest to my cheeks. “I… I wasn’t thinking. I⁠—”

“It’s okay,” he interrupts while lifting me off him, and I acutely feel the loss of him as he slides me down his body. Once my feet are on the floor, he keeps hold of me, adjusts my dress, then lets me go.