I guide him between my thighs, pressing the head of his cock against my entrance, and his hands grip my hips hard, every muscle in his arms visibly straining, trembling against my skin. A low groan rumbles through his chest that I feel against my tits.
“You walked me home on purpose,” I say, pulling him closer with my legs. “You planned this.”
“I planned to walk you home.” He thrusts forward just enough to stretch me open around the head, and the feeling sends a bolt of heat up my spine and a gasp tears out of me. “This part is your fault.”
“You’re so full of shit, Midnight.” I pull him deeper with my heels, another inch, then another, slow enough to feel every ridge of him dragging against my walls, and his breathing goes ragged against my mouth, each exhale shaking on the way out. “You’ve been thinking about this all night, haven’t you?”
“All night?” His hands tighten on my hips. “Try since the gym, or since the first day you fucking showed back up in Dark River.”
The words hit me in the stomach and a fresh rush of wetness coats his cock where he’s half inside me. The idea of Dominic Midnight walking around his gym during all that time, thinking about fucking me, distracted by it, losing sleep over it, is so hot I can barely stand it.
“Then stop wasting time,” I breathe, and he pushes the rest of the way in, one deep stroke that fills me completely, and the sound that rips out of both of us fills the apartment.
His groan is low and guttural and mine is high and desperate and neither of us tries to hold it back. The fullness is staggering. Every inch of him stretching me, pressing against spots that make my whole body hum. His hips are flush against my inner thighs and I can feel the pulse of his heartbeat through his cock and for one suspended second we just breathe.
Then he pulls back and drives in hard enough to send the table screeching across the hardwood, and I stop thinking entirely.
“Yes,” I gasp, bracing my hands behind me on the table, arching my back so the angle shifts and every thrust drags across my front wall. “Yes, like that, don’t stop.”
He doesn’t stop. He sets a pace that’s deep and relentless, his hands gripping my hips, and the table is migrating steadily across my dining room with every stroke. The legs scraping against the floor should be annoying but I can’t hear anything over the sound of my own moans and the slap of his body meeting mine and the grunts he makes every time he bottoms out, like the feeling of being inside me is punching the air out of his lungs.
“Fuck, Brooke,” he groans, driving in harder. “Your pussy is going to be the death of me.”
“What a way to go.” I wrap my legs tighter around him, pulling him deeper, and the next thrust hits so deep I see white behind my eyelids and cry out, my nails scratching across the table surface. He does it again and I scream so loud the sound bounces off the walls, and somewhere in the back of my brain a tiny voice is reminding me that I have neighbors but the rest of my brain has staged a full coup and does not care.
My dress is bunched around my waist and my bra is still on and I’m suddenly frustrated by all of it, by every scrap of fabric between his skin and mine.
“Zipper,” I pant between thrusts. “Get this thing off me.”
He reaches around and finds the tab and drags it down while he’s still buried inside me, his hips grinding forward in shallow circles while his hand works the zipper, and the multitasking is genuinely impressive. The dress loosens around my body and I yank it over my head and toss it, then unclasp my bra and let it fall, and the cool air hits my bare chest and my nipples tighten immediately.
His eyes drop to my tits and his rhythm falters. Just half a second, but I catch it, and the rush of power that comes from making Dominic Midnight lose his focus is almost as good as the sex.
“Eyes up here,” I tell him, grinning.
“I’m admiring the full picture.” He cups my tits in both hands, his thumbs brushing over my nipples, and the calluses on his palms from years of wrapping his hands and hitting bags create a friction against my sensitive skin that makes me gasp. He rolls my nipples between his fingers, tugging gently, then harder when my breath catches, and I arch into his hands because my body has completely mutinied against my brain.
He dips his head and takes one nipple into his mouth, sucking while he drives into me, and the dual sensation tears a moan out of me that I feel in my toes. My fingers threadthrough his hair, pulling him closer, holding his mouth against my breast.
“God, your mouth,” I pant, my head falling back. “Don’t stop doing that.”
He switches to the other side, giving it the same thorough attention, sucking and licking and grazing with his teeth until both my nipples are swollen and aching and every pull of his mouth sends a direct line of heat straight to my clit. He’s still thrusting into me the whole time, that relentless deep pace, and the combination of his mouth on my tits and his cock hitting that spot inside me is building something enormous at the base of my spine.
“Dominic.” His name comes out of me on a moan that doesn’t sound like my voice, breathless and needy and completely undone. “Yes, right there, right there, don’t change anything.”
He releases my nipple and looks up at me with slick lips and dark eyes. “That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“Enjoy it. Itwon’thappen again.” I grab his jaw and kiss him, tasting my own skin on his lips, and he thrusts deep at the same time. He swallows the sound and gives me another just as deep, and another, each one hitting that spot with a precision that has my walls fluttering around him. “Yes yes yes,” I gasp, my hands bracing on the table behind me, and then something creaks ominously beneath us. A sharp, splintering sound that has nothing to do with the noises we’ve been making and everything to do with structural failure.
“Oh fuck.” He laughs, slowing but not quite stopping.
And I laugh too, breathless and disbelieving. “I think we’re actually about to break the table.”
He grins against my mouth. “What the fuck is this thing made of, cardboard?”
“It’s Ikea, I’ve had it forever. I’m a busy woman, you think I have time to go furniture shopping?” The table groans again and lists sideways and I yelp, grabbing onto his shoulders. “Okay, okay, we need to move before I have to explain this to my insurance company.”
He grabs me, hands under my ass, lifting me off the table with his cock still inside me, and starts thrusting as he carries me. Each step drives him deeper and I’m moaning into his neck, my legs clamped around his waist, my nails raking across his back, and by the time he sets me on the kitchen island I’m half out of my mind. The marble is freezing against my bare skin and I suck in a breath, my whole body tightening around him.
