People didn’t speak like that. Not to people like me. Like poetry. And yet he was. Offering up words as flowers. No—asfuel. Like oil to the flame.
My eyes fell to his lips, as if there was nowhere else they could have gone. Those lips had denied me once, and I’d promised myselfI’d never seek them out again. I knew I should deny him now, but that felt like denying myself.
Incapable of answering him any other way, I used the hold I still had on his jacket and I pulled him into me. His hands slammed against the wall at my back from the force of it, and our lips crashed violently. An attack that he willingly fell into, that he forced back onto me. Another first, and I was beginning to realize he’d have them all.
His kiss was unlike anything I’d ever felt before. A pull like a physical thing. A magnet. A tree that sprouted roots in my rib cage, the kind that grew too big under the pavement, causing it to crack open and warp from the force of its growth. It took hold in the core of me and shattered everything in its path up my chest and throat, through my mouth, and it grew into him. Tethered me to him. Tied me to him like he was another part of me. A part I’d been forced to go without that had finally returned home.
He kissed me like he knew. Like he felt it too.
Lips gave way to tongues as we consumed each other. He tasted my fire, my hatred, just as he’d asked to, drank it down greedily like he’d said he would. In return, I tasted him, like smoke and danger. More. Like devotion.
I had only ever kissed him, yet I knew that no one else’s lips could ever compare to this. No other kiss would ever be as tender. Tender like a bruise.
He crowded me in, hands leaving the wall on either side of me to tangle in my hair, to grab me by the hip and pull me into him. And I answered in kind, releasing his jacket only to slide my hands beneath the leather, to claw at his sides, his back. He wasn’t denying me this time.
Dex Weller was the ocean, and I was drowning in him. It pissed me off when we needed to come up for air, and our lips parted only long enough to fill our lungs with something other than each otherbefore I was diving beneath his surface again. Letting the tide drag me deeper. Further from the safety of the shore.
Lips found each other again. Our hands grabbed more frantically as whatever this was between us continued to escalate. I was burning up from the force of it. Dex’s leg found its way between mine like it was supposed to be there, and he swallowed the sounds I made in response. I don’t know why my body listened to him more than it did to me, but in this moment I couldn’t bring myself to care, not when he rolled his hips against me again and I felt the evidence of how much he was affected by this too.
“Fuck,” I panted the next time we broke for air. His chuckle was deep and breathy in response.
“Fuck,” Dex echoed. “Let me have more, Rabbit. Let me have you again.”
My cock throbbed as if it could answer for me, and maybe it could. I rocked against him, grinding my hips into the obvious hardness in Dex’s jeans, and he groaned. He took it for what it was, his hands leaving my hair and hip to work open the button and zipper.
“What if someone comes up here?” I asked, a sudden stab of unwanted panic pulling me from beneath the surface of lust.
He looked at me for a moment before hands found my shoulders and he shoved me to the side, slamming me back again, this time against the door. “You’ll just have to keep that door blocked, won’t you?”
As if it were that simple.
Whatever further protests I had were lost as his fingers dipped beneath fabric to circle around me, stroking me so fast and firmly all I could do was gasp and moan and struggle to stay upright. “Fuck!” I cried, sounding pathetic.
“So hard for me, baby,” he cooed, sounding incredibly pleased.
“D-don’t callme—ah—baby.”
“Hmm, fine. For now. Rabbit. But you will be my baby.”
“Not yours.” My hands clawed at his sides.
“Notyet.”
His hands left me, and I let out a cry of protest until I saw where they’d gone and I knew what was about to follow. Dex freed himself, grasping his own cock in his hand before bringing our hips together, taking us both in his large warm palm and fingers and stroking.
Pleasure like an electric shock stabbed through me, and my head thunked back against the door with a loudthud.
“Careful, Rabbit,” he warned, voice breathy with lust. “I’ll punish anyone who hurts you. Yourself included.”
“What about you?”
“I won’t hurt you,” he told me. “Never again.”
Then he aimed and spat on our cocks, and the added slickness had me crying out again as he spread it over our lengths. His hand felt so different from my own. So much more intense. I thought maybe it was because he’d used his mouth last time that it had felt so fucking good, but now I knew it was just because it washim.
Lifting my head away from the door, I glanced down between us, at the obscene sight of his cock, thick and pierced, pressed against mine, tunneling through inked fingers. I couldn’t look away. I wanted the image burned into my memory so I could revisit it in my dreams, in my fantasies, with the hope I could make myself feel even a fraction as good as he did.
“You gonna come for me, baby?”
