A sharp javelin pierces through my chest as mine and Tripp’s shouting voices carve their way into my mind. Our fights have no substance. They don’t matter; and somehow, they still hold the power to rip us apart.
My eyes search Connor’s with a burn in my throat, and as he frees my wrists, I take a firm hold of his face to pull him toward me. My thumbs trace the smooth skin of his jaw as his hands settle on my hips and I take his mouth, letting his tongue slip against my own with a soft moan.
“What the hell are you doing?” He asks, pulling himself away from me.
My head shakes, my eyes flicking between his as I pull in a sniff. “I don’t know.”
“You’re married.” His tongue moves to wet his lower lip, his focus on my mouth. “He loves you.”
“It doesn’t feel like it,” I challenge.
I can see the battle taking place in his mind. He’s lonely; I know that. I overhear it when he jokes with Tripp, but I know the truth that hides beneath the jokes.
I’m lonely, too.
“Please,” I plead with my lips millimeters from his, “just for a minute.”
He stares at me, studying me, for too many moments too long before his lips crash into mine again. My hands take a firm hold of his jaw as his tongue meets mine, and I whine, letting my body melt against the counter behind me, trapped between it and the pressure of his warm body.
“We can’t do this,” Connor breathes as his hands work to open his belt and slacks.
“I know,” I nod.
His body presses against mine again as he dives into me, meeting me in a fervent kiss as he reaches past the slit of my dress to pull down my thong and send it to the floor.
Lifting me onto the counter as if it takes no effort at all, he pulls my legs to hook over his hips before pushing inside of me in one harsh motion, and his hand presses against my mouth to muffle the moan that escapes me.
“Oh mygod,” he groans, tucking his face into crook of my neck.
My eyes drift shut, my head falling against the mirror behind me as Connor’s hips work. Quickly; almost too quickly, but I haven’t had sex with anyone but myself in so long that I don’t care if all we can manage is a few fleeting minutes.
The pleasure radiating through my body is almost blinding, forcing another muffled whine from my mouth and into the palm of his hand.
“I know, Princess,” he pants against my ear, “but you have to be quiet.”
I nod in understanding, letting my eyes flit to the bathroom door and the party that rages just on the other side of it.
Where my husband is having a beer with his friends.
Connor’s free hand trails up the length of my thigh to knead into the flesh of my ass as he pushes in to the hilt, forcing my eyes to roll in my head as I’m met with a shockwave that sends a shudder throughout my body.
As his breathing grows heavier and his body stills, I grunt with a hard shake of my head, using my hands to push at his hips. The confusion that flashes behind his eyes is immediately replaced with realization as he pulls out of me, leaving no longer than it takes to pull in a breath before warm jets hit the inside of my thigh, each pulse paired with a quiet groan that pushes its way from his throat.
Pulling his tie from around his neck with abject horror carved into every feature of his face, Connor balls the fabric in his hand and works to wipe his spilled cum from my thigh, his eyes locked onto mine as he wipes the fabric between my legs.
“He can never find out about this,” he tells me. “We didn’t do this. Wecan’thave done this.”
“I know.”
“Shit, Julia.” He moves to the side of the counter to deposit the tie into the waiting garbage bin before returning to me, studying my face.
Neither of us moves for a long time – too long.
My underwear are discarded on the floor, Connor’s tie is in the trash, and the single strap of my dress is now hanging off of my shoulder.
My dignity is somewhere else – it’s certainly not in this room with me, anymore.
I silently slide off of the counter to pick up my underwear and slip them back into place before fixing the strap of my dress.
