Because sheislying, and we both know it. Her body is betraying her, already responding to my touch like she’s been starving for it. Like she’s spent this last week apart from me craving exactlythis—the push and pull, the anger and desire, the way we set each other on fire and burn everything down around us.
We fall into each other like enemies declaring war, hands everywhere at once, frantic, clawing, needy. My fingers work at the button of her jeans while she tugs at my jacket, pulling it off my shoulders violently.
I slip my hand inside her jeans, past the barrier of simple cotton, and find her slick and hot. Robin’s head falls back against the wall with a soft thud, her mouth falling open on a gasp that sounds like surrender.
“Always wet for me,” I murmur against her ear, stroking slowly, deliberately. “Still mine, no matter what you tell yourself.”
Robin’s response is to yank up my dress and slide her own hand into my underwear, fingers finding me easily. “You’re a selfish, greedy, narcissistic asshole,” she hisses in my ear. “I’m not yours and I never will be.”
My fingers press into her easily and she bucks forward to meet me, gripping my shoulder for leverage. We rock together, each thrust burying my hand deeper inside her.
But Robin’s fingers are also driving me higher, relentless and knowing.
I will not come before her. I will not allow her that.
“You tell me I’m greedy,” I pant. “But look at you, little bird.”
Her other hand clasps the back of my neck and she pulls me in against her forehead. “You’re the one who looks desperate, Eva,” she tells me through gritted teeth.
Desperate isn’t even close to describing it.
The whole world has narrowed to the feel of her hot, wet cunt around my hand, to slick thrusts punctuated by harsh breathing.
My thumb slides over her clit, and she jolts like she’s been shocked. I rub tight circles, coaxing a gasp from her lips, a gasp she tries to suppress by burying her face in my neck. Her breath is hot on my skin, her teeth grazing, marking. But any sense of triumph dies as she twists her fingers inside me, making me gasp and clench down on her.
She lets out a soft scoff that infuriates me. Is she laughing at me? She needs to remember who’s in charge. I redouble my efforts, but no matter what I do, she doesn’t want to lose herself.
Not to me. Not again.
Well, we’ll see about that.
My free hand finds the hem of her t-shirt, yanks it up to reveal that white cotton bra that has haunted my dreams since we parted. Her nipples are hard inside it, and I pull her breast out roughly, let the heavy flesh fill my palm. The nipple is tight, flushed dark pink. I roll it between my fingers, pinch until she cries out, until she bucks into my hand frantically.
She’s struggling, fighting herself and me at the same time. Her hair is a mess, falling over her flushed and damp face, andIdid that. I provoked that from her. And I love the chaos I’ve wrought.
But I want more.
I pinch harder at her nipple, twist until she’s writhing, until she’s fucking my hand in earnest. God, the sounds she makes as I stoke her heat…
Her eyes meet mine, and she adjusts her fingers, bending them inside me, seeking out that detonator. Pressured. Steady.
And then she finds it, makes my whole body shudder against her.
“You like that?” she rasps out, taunting and vicious.
“You can’t win against me,” I pant back. “Remember that, little bird. I.Always. Win.”
I know she’s close. I can feel it in the flutter of her cunt, in the tension of her thighs. But she’s fighting it, biting her lip, eyes screwed shut.
“You might be able to buy my body,” she grits out, “but you’ll never own my heart, Eva.”
And with that, she gives up the fight, her body going rigid and her head thrown back. She rides my fingers, letting her whole body give in to what it wants.
It’s the most intense feeling of power I’ve ever had, watching her lose control. Watching her nuclear meltdown on my fingers.
And now I can take my own satisfaction. I press my hand over hers where it still wriggles inside me, knowing she’ll hate herself as soon as her orgasm dies away, so I keep up the rhythm, grinding down onto her fingers. Her expression shifts frompleasure to clarity, from clarity to anger, and I laugh with vicious delight as I come, reveling in this feeling, this total and complete possession.
Who the hell needs her heart when I can take every other thing from her?
