“You’re killin’ me,” he rasps. “You’re so fuckin’ wrong for me, being here with you like this is a betrayal of the brotherhood, but I don’t think I give the first fuck.”
I open my mouth to tell him that it’s not worth it, that I’m not worth it, but he doesn’t let me. I want to tell him that I’m not wrong, more like forbidden. It’s not betraying anyone. He’s not married. I’m not married. Just because Ivy has set some rule that I had no say in doesn’t make this wrong.
I don’t get the chance to say anything, though. My words don’t come out. Instead, he shoves his hand down my shorts before he cups my pussy. My breath hitches at the feel, my eyes widening even more.
Inwardly, I beg for him to slip his fingers inside me.
Outwardly, I just stare at him, because I have no words to say. They don’t form even if I could think of anything to actually say. He doesn’t do what I silently beg him to do, at least not right away.
Goose leans forward, touching his lips to the center of my throat, his mouth gliding down to the hollow of my throat and stopping. He sucks on the skin there, then shifts his fingers and finally slips them inside me—filling me.
Reaching down, I curl my fingers around the edge of the counter and lift my hips slightly, whimpering when his fingers drive deeper inside me. He curls his fingers, his palm pressing against my clit.
My head falls back, my fingers holding on so tightly that I know my knuckles are white. It feels so damn good. Lifting my hips further, I meet his palm, grinding my clit against it over and over, my body climbing higher and higher.
I’m on the edge, ready to fall over, when he removes his hand.
I straighten my head, and my eyes pop open and find his. “Goose,” I hiss.
His lips twitch into a smirk before he shakes his head a couple of times. He shifts forward, touching his lips to mine, then his eyes search my own. “You gonna be my good girl?” he asks.
I swear my pussy clenches from his words alone. I could probably come if he called me his good girl a few times. It just plain does it for me. I love everything about the way he says it—his tone, his husky voice, and the praise.
Love. It.
“What do you want?” I ask, although I’m not sure I’m ready for the answer he’s going to give me. I hope I can actually be his good girl, that I can give him what he wants. Because that’s what I want to do, but at the same time, I want things from him, too… I want everything he can give me. I’m not naive enough to demand love, marriage, babies, and fidelity. Not with this man. I know that some of the others have settled down and seem to really love their women, Ivy included, but I could never have that kind of luck.
No, these stolen moments will probably be all that happens for me with Goose. Right now, I’m exciting because I’m off-limits, and I don’t expect I’ll be anything more than that. Then, when he’s not locked in a closed space with me, he’ll vanish again, and I’ll be a distant memory just like last time.
At this very moment… I do not care.
His lips stay pressed gently against mine as he speaks, moving against my mouth. “Everything, Cidney. I want fucking everything from you.”
I’m sure he does. And more, too. He can have it. He can have every little thing. Forcing myself to uncurl my fingers from the edge of the counter, I reach around the back of his head and grip his hair, tightening my fingers in the strands before I pull him closer to me.
“Yes,” I hiss against his mouth.
He makes a noise in the back of his throat before he shifts backward, his eyes connecting with mine and keeping our gazes connected. Then, without another word, his fingers grip the hips of my sleep shorts, and he strips them off my body and tosses them somewhere, I don’t care where. He could throw them away, and I would be fine with it.
Goose grips the outsides of my thighs, tugging me closer to the edge, and then I hear the teeth of his zipper slowly slide down. I think about slipping my hands down between us and wrapping them around his length, but that doesn’t happen, because before I can do anything, he’s inside me.
One thrust from him. One gasp from me.
Our eyes connected.
This feels too good to be wrong.
He fucks me on the counter, hard and fast, the edge of the counter biting into the flesh of my ass. I love every ounce of the pain. Maybe even crave it a little. Our gazes stay connected. There is nobody else in this whole world but us. Just the two of us.
Right here. Right now.
He continues to move inside me, and the sound of our heavy breaths fills the kitchen space around us. The sounds each of us makes—the grunts, the whimpers—just make this all the sexier.
Then his eyes widen, and his movements become more erratic, harder, and faster. I’m close, so close, and then it happens before I realize it. My orgasm rushes through me, consuming me. I feel almost as if I’m floating right before he slams into me, stilling, and then he comes.
He buries his face in my neck, his lips touching the side of my throat, which causes goose bumps to break out on my sweat-soaked skin.
“Fuck, you taste good,” he murmurs.
