He moans—low and rough—hand clamping over mine, holding it there, restraint trembling between us, but his mouth doesn’t let up—tongue sliding in over mine like he already knows how I like it. I meet him, pace for pace. Breathless. Greedy for more.
I break for a second, reaching up, tugging the knot at my hair loose. It spills free, wild and heavy, brushing over my bare skin.
His eyes darken.
“Did I ever tell you,redis my favourite colour?”
He doesn’t wait for a reply—just hooks his hand under my ass and pulls it towards him, arranging me exactly how he wants me. Exactly how I need.
My body follows without question—shoulders dropping, hips lifting—until I’m braced on my elbows, half-lying, caught right at the edge of the table. Right at the edge of him.
Then his hand slips down between us, and without breaking eye contact, he wraps his hand around his cock—guiding it right to where I’m open and aching for him.
The head brushes against me, hot and thick, and my heart stalls, but he doesn’t push, just holds there—his gaze still locked on mine like he’s waiting not for an answer, but for permission.
Everything in me goes still. The noise. The hunger. Even the air between us. It’s just him. Hard, ready, hovering at the edge of me like he belongs there.
“I don’t want soft. I don’t want careful.” I arch my hips as I remind him, the head of him rubbing against me, catching justenough to make us both shudder.“I wantthis, so stop waiting, and fucking take me.”
He stills for a heartbeat—like he’s giving me one last chance to take it back—but I’m already shifting closer, the slick drag of him against me stealing any thought of retreat.
Then he moves—one hard drive of his hips—and the sound that rips from me isn’t human. My fingers claw at the table, searching for something to hold as he sinks in, deep, deeper, until the air leaves my lungs.
The stretch, the pressure, it's too much and not enough all at once. I shake my head. “More, please...”
“Like this?” he murmurs with a wicked grin, then grinds into me again, harder.
“Fuck—yes.”
My head falls back, hips lifting to meet him as his right hand glides up over my stomach, then higher, cupping my breast. His other hand stays locked at my hip, firm, holding me steady—keeping my body from shifting with each thrust so he can drive in further, over and over, each stroke pulling a fresh gasp from my throat.
“You feel so fucking good,” he grits out. “I’ve imagined this a hundred ways, none of them come close tothis.”
I shatter, the fact that he’s thought of this, of havingmewrapped around him like this? It shreds something inside me wide open. I push up, mouth on his before I can stop myself, my thighs lock tighter around his waist, heels digging into his back, like I need to feel every inch of him or I’ll come apart.
He groans—low, wrecked—and his hands move, sliding up my back until they hook over my shoulders with just enough force to keep me flush against him—so when he moves, there’s nowhere for me to go, nothing between us, just the brutal drag of him deep inside.
God. It feels too good, he feels too good. For a second, the thought terrifies me, but it’s just tonight; it doesn't mean anything more. It’s just sex, just escape.
Just—
His mouth grazes the hollow of my throat, and the thought splinters.
My fingers dig into his skin as I gasp. Every cry torn from me in time with the steady roll of his hips, relentless, slamming in and in.
A crack splits beneath me as the table starts to give, legs buckling. “Shit,” he growls, then he grabs me, spins, and throws me on to the bed like he can’t get me there fast enough.
A quick look to check I'm okay, before his mouth traces lower—heat and ruin, catching my hard nipple with his teeth just as his hips grind down, one long deep thrust. I call out his name as the full weight of him now sinks into me, taking me, consuming me whole.
And the angle the pressure, god. It hits different. It hitseverything.
But he doesn't stop, just grinds down deeper, relentless. Again and again.
My legs lock around him, tight—as sharp, desperate pulses of pleasure rip through my body.
“You have no idea what you do to me, Lyra, when you walk into a room,fuck.” He says as he slams back into me.
I don’t answer. Ican’t.
