We crash into each other like we’ve been starving for a week. His hands are in my hair, and mine are clawing at his shirt. Aminute later, we’re stumbling backward into my room, knocking into the desk and sending the lamp wobbling. He tastes like whiskey and desperation, and I bite his lip hard enough to draw blood because I need him to feel what this week has done to me.
“This fucking shirt,” he growls against my mouth, fisting the silk in his hand. “You wore this on purpose.”
“I wanted you to remember.”
“I haven’t forgotten a single second.” He pops the buttons open on my shirt before kissing down my neck and tweaking my nipple. “I’ve been hard since you sat down at dinner.”
“Good.” I’m yanking at his belt.
“I can’t get you out of my head, and I’ve tried, but I can’t fucking do it.”
“Shut up.” Buttons scatter across the floor because neither of us has the patience for careful. “Fuck me.”
He shoves my jeans down, and I kick them off while he fights with his own.
“Be careful what you wish for.”
We’re both frantic now with hands everywhere, mouths clashing in kisses that feel more like combat. Within a minute, we’re both naked and panting. Our lips don’t break apart as he walks me backward to the glass window.
He grabs my hips and spins me, shoving me forward until my palms hit the window.
I gasp when my nipples touch the cold glass.
His hands grip my waist. “Look at you, naked in front of a window, waiting to get fucked by someone you hate. What would Daddy think?”
I turn around and face him. “He’d never approve of you.”
A sly smirk graces his perfect lips. “Well, darling, luckily, I don’t need his permission.”
He goes to grab a condom, and I pull him back to me.
“I want to feel you.”
His brow pops up, and he swallows hard.
“I’m on birth control.”
Without saying a word, Patterson presses my palms against the glass and then moves behind me. A second later, he slams into me, and I cry out before I can stop myself.
His hand clamps over my mouth. “Do that again, and I’m leaving you dripping and desperate,” he warns.
“You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.” He starts moving, allowing my body to relax as I brace myself against the glass.
“There are people down there,” I moan out, wondering if they can see us. The thought has me stifling my moans while he pounds into me.
“You like this, the thought of people watching, of getting caught.”
“I like it when you shut the fuck up.”
He laughs, then slows down his pace when my body tenses. “Your mouth says one thing, but your pussy says another.”
His hand snakes around to find my clit. “You’re dripping down my cock, Ken Doll, absolutely soaked.”
“Are you going to make me come?” I ask, leaving the snark in my tone.
He continues working my clit, and I jerk forward, forehead hitting the glass.
