“You want me this badly, huh?” I say against her skin.
Eden breathes out a laugh—shaky, aroused, defiant. “You already know I do.”
I slide a hand beneath her shirt, palm meeting warm skin. She shivers violently, her breath catching as I drag my thumb beneath the curve of her breast. Her back bows against the wall, pushing into my touch.
“More,” she whispers.
I oblige.
My hand moves higher, sliding under her bra until my palm cups her fully. She gasps—a raw, involuntary sound—as my thumb brushes her nipple. Her hips jerk against mine, her breath breaking apart in small, desperate sounds she tries to swallow.
“You’re shaking,” I murmur.
“You’re… doing that.” She digs her fingers into my shoulders. “God—”
I pull her shirt up and over her head, tossing it aside. Her bra follows, and she lets out a broken breath as the cool air hits her skin. I take her breast in my mouth, tongue circling slowaround her nipple. She cries out, biting down hard on her lip, her hands flying to my hair.
“Simon, Jesus…”
I pin her tighter between my body and the wall, grinding my hips into her. She gasps at the pressure, her legs tightening around my waist as her body arches instinctively into every movement.
I kiss back up her chest, her neck, her jaw, until my lips brush her ear. “I haven’t even touched you properly yet,” I whisper.
She trembles, full-bodied, helpless, already undone just from my hands and mouth.
I slide my fingers along the inside of her thigh, slow as sin, just beneath the hem of her jeans. She sucks in a sharp breath. Her hips lift, searching for friction.
“Here?” I tease.
“Don’t be cruel,” she breathes.
“Then tell me where you want my hands.”
She swallows, cheeks flushed, voice breaking. “Between my legs.”
I unbutton her jeans one-handed, my mouth still on her throat. She moans softly as I drag the zipper down, her breath shaking in anticipation. When my fingers slide beneath the fabric and touch her through her panties, she jolts—hips arching sharply, a desperate sound ripping from her lips.
“You’re already wet.” I press my mouth to her shoulder. “Did the race do that? Or was it me?”
“Both,” she chokes out.
I slide my fingers against her—slow, steady strokes that make her breath stutter and break. She clutches at my shoulders, her entire body trembling.
“Simon, please—”
So, I give her what she’s begging for.
I slip my fingers under her panties, find her slick heat, and stroke her—firm, controlled, relentless. She gasps my name again and again, her voice high and breathless. Her thighs clamp around me, her nails digging into my back as I work her faster, deeper, until she’s shaking in my hands.
Her forehead falls against mine, lips parted, eyes half lidded. “I’m gonna—” she gasps.
“Good,” I growl. “Cum for me.”
She breaks.
Her body arches violently, a cry torn from her throat as pleasure crashes through her. She clutches me like she’s falling, trembling hard against my chest as my fingers keep her riding the edge until she’s shaking, panting, utterly undone.
When her breathing finally slows, she collapses against me, boneless and warm. I hold her there—my fingers still tracing slow patterns along her thigh—until she lifts her head, cheeks flushed, eyes dazed.
