He pulled me by my hair and my scalp burned. “You think I won’t?”

He spun me around, forcing my palms flat against the wall. Then his hand was on me, palming my pussy. I tried not to think about who he’d been touching only hours before. It lanced. It hurt. And going into that dark place would shred me.

“Are you gonna let me go once I fuck you, Snitch?” His voice grated my neck. “Will I be out of your head?”

He kissed my neck, my ear, and I arched back.

“Will you forget how I feel sliding inside your cunt?” Harsh words from such sinfully soft lips. I heard the rasp of a zipper; then I felt it. Him. Just the tip, but it stretched me deliciously.

“This was how it was supposed to be,” I said on a breath. “A secret that disappears and dies with us.”

He tangled his grip in my hair, pulling my head back on a painful arch, until I could see his piercing blue eyes and the addictive sheen of sweat on his sharp-as-glass jaw.

“So you want me to finish it?” he asked, sliding a little bit more inside.

My mouth opened to form words, but he bit my shoulder, and all I could do was gasp. Next came his free hand, sliding between my thighs, finding my clit. A shaky, jagged groan slipped from my lips.

Sparks. Butterflies.

“So fucking wet,” he groaned.

He had me speared, spread, but only enough to tease, to madden. I tried to push back, and his other hand slipped from my clit, holding my inner thigh in a vise grip. His self-control was such an aphrodisiac. Every muscle in his body was strained, and I had to imagine he wanted to plunge in.

Had to.

He’d been waiting so long.

He thumbed me again. I scythed my nails into the wall. It was like the butterflies in my stomach were sparking, electrified from that one perfect spot between my thighs. But it wasn’t enough. I needed more.

It had never felt like this with West.

I never knew it could feel like this.

“God, fuck, yes. Come apart on my dick, Story.”

I groaned as he slid another torturous millimeter inside of me.

“Fuck me,” I begged, stupidly, wantonly, high on the little doses he’d allowed me.

He froze, fingers digging into my hip.

I should’ve taken the out.

“Please,” I said, finding his eyes. “Fuck me.”

His blue eyes burned. “You want more?”

I nodded fast.

“I don’t have a condom with me, Story,” he said, sounding suspicious, but more than that, greedy.

“What about the one in your wallet you’ve had since you were twelve?” I asked. “You know, just in case you got lucky?”

Something dark flashed in his eyes, and I was sure I was dead.