Pulling back, stopping all motion until I look him in the eyes, Gray smirks, and I realize that in all my nonchalance about playing a game, I’d never thought about what would happen when he won.
“I think,secretly, all you want is for someone else to take control. Isn’t that right, baby?”
And with that, I’m completely and totally gone.
We crash together again, his mouth hot and demanding over mine, and what he said just continues pulsing through my head.
All you want is for someone else to take control.
He is right. That much is obvious in the way I dissolve into him, his hands practically holding me up and against the building, the cold stone against my back barely registering inmy mind as his mouth drops to my neck, the scruff of his beard rough and impossible against my skin.
I’m not that well-versed in public, clothes-still-on sex, but it doesn’t take much maneuvering for him to push my thong to the side, for me to unzip him and reach inside his boxers, finding the velvet heft of him there.
I gasp at the steady pulse just under the pad of my thumb, a strange sense of closeness. It’s like feeling the beating of his heart in my hand. He groans softly against my skin, and I drive my fingers into his hair, pushing back the darker locks around the back of his ear.
My eyes flash to that area, for just a second, and I spot a small, kidney-shaped birthmark you could only see if you looked. It makes me feel a flash of intimacy, of knowing something that not everyone can instantly know about this man.
Quickly, quietly, we exchange information—I’m on the pill, clean, tested in the last month. He’s clean, too, and he doesn’t have a condom on him. Right now, I can’t bring myself to summon the logical, responsible side of myself enough to care.
“Lift,” he orders, his strong hand hooking under my knee, and I do what he says, raising my leg. He grabs my calf, slides his hand down the length of it, then pins my leg to his side, opening me up. When he steps in close, his cock slides against me, the head catching on my clit and making me gasp.
With his other hand he covers my mouth, those gray eyes boring into mine.
It’s cold all around us, but searing between our bodies.
“You have to be quiet,” he whispers, lowering down and kissing my temple, then recapturing my eyes. “Can you do that?”
I nod, and he keeps his hand over my mouth anyway. It just compounds with the feeling of him trapping me against the wall, the total loss of control.
With him stifling my noises, I realize I can’t ask him for what I want—that I want him inside menow, but it turns out I don’t need to.
He lifts his hand from my leg briefly to guide himself to my entrance in one smooth move, his cock sliding fully inside me with such ease I’m sure I must be really, really fucking wet.
I almost cry out into his palm at the sensation, but at the last minute, I bite down on my tongue, closing my eyes and tipping my head to the stars.
And I’m rewarded with a low growl of satisfaction from him, a murmuredgood girlinto my neck, two words I know will forever be seared into my mind.
Chapter 3
Russell
If anyone would have asked me, I would have said public sex isn’t really my thing. Although, the only thing making this public is the fact that we are, technically, outside. The balcony is covered, so those above us can’t look down, and we’re tucked away on the other side of the door, so even if that velvet curtain is drawn, nobody can see us.
That’s important to me.
Because I want to be the only fucking person who gets to see her like this.
With her head tipped back against the wall, her ruby mask sparkling in the light, she looks like a painting. Like something erotic and suggestive at only the expression on her face, that particular shade of red in her mask, matched by her chest, cheeks, nails—the dress bunched up around her waist as I thrust against her, grateful for the control of the wall.
I like that I get to call the shots here, take her as deep and fast as I want. Each time I grind into her, it hits against her clit, and when she lets out a low, simpering noise, I press my hand in tighter over her mouth, and her eyes spark with delight.
When she ran into me at the refreshments table, she didn’t look like the kind of woman who would purr at being told whatto do, who would consent to a public fucking on the balcony just outside the gala—but I guess looks can be deceiving.
I drink every part of her in, tugging on her long, loose brown hair and burying myself in the nape of her neck, like I might find her name written there. Instead, I just find more of that spicy vanilla perfume, which smells like dessert and wine all at once.
My fingers dig into the meat of her thigh, and it just makes me crazier, the press of her against me, the fact that there’s so much for me to grab and hold.
I want to get this dress off her, take her back to my hotel room, show her that—if we weren’t up against a stone wall digging into her back—I could lift her completely, hold her ass in my hands, drive into her with her arms around my neck and her gasps in my ear.
