Now, it feels right.
He positions himself at my entrance. The blunt pressure of him there makes my breath hitch and stutter.
“F-fuck,” I gasp.
His forehead drops to mine. “Still okay?”
“Yes. God, yes. Please, just… do it. I need it so bad, Bastian. I need you so, so badly.”
He nods and his face screws up with concentration. Then, as we both hold our breath, he pushes in slowly, inch by inch, filling me completely.
When he’s all the way inside me, sealed hip to hip, he pauses. He bends down and claims my mouth in a tender kiss. A brush oflips on lips. Slowly, slowly, he drags himself out. The friction is almost overwhelming, but the absence of him is even worse.
Then, without ever breaking the kiss, he reverses direction and—just as slowly, slowly—he fills me up again.
It’s like that for a dozen, maybe more, long, agonizing, exquisite strokes. In, until I’m so full of him I can’t think?—
Out, until I want him back so badly I can hardly breathe?—
In and full?—
Out and desperate?—
In—
Out—
In—
Out—
Until, before I know it, we’re coupling like wild animals on the floor of his office-to-be, fourteen stories above the only city I’ve ever called home.
The tenderness burns away. His hips snap harder and faster. My nails carve into his shoulders and rake down the muscle of his back. He hisses but doesn’t slow.
“Mark me,” he growls. “I want to feel it tomorrow.”
So I score him again, deeper this time. He drives into me so hard I slide across the floor. His hands clamp my hips, holding me in place as he pounds into me.
His thumb finds my clit. The pressure of that is almost too much on top of everything else. I’m going to break apart.
“Come for me,” he demands as he reads the spasms crossing my face. “Let me feel it.”
The orgasm tears through me. I clench around him, fingernails breaking skin now, hot blood shining there.
But it’s not over yet. Growling again, he yanks me to my feet. I’m still stuttering as the orgasm makes my legs quiver, but his hands on my hips spin me around until I’m facing the window.
“Hands on the glass.”
I obey. The surface is cold against my palms. He kicks my feet wider apart. His fingers blanket mine, pinning my hands in place. Then he’s inside me again, one brutal thrust that makes me cry out and moan so hard that my breath fogs the window.
“Look at it,” he says into my ear. “Look out at what’s ours.”
The lights go fuzzy as his hips slam against me. My cheek and breasts flatten against the glass with each impact. The building is vacant and the streets are far below, but I feel exposed anyway, displayed.
He keeps thrusting, chasing his own release, using me. We’re fucking so fast and hard now that my body isn’t mine anymore—it’s his, all his, only his. Until his rhythm stutters. His grip bruises my hips.
“Fuck, Eliana?—”
