I fucked her with my fingers and ate her pussy until her thighs were shaking and her voice was cracking and her nails were raking down my scalp. I added a third finger and pressed deep and she came with a scream she didn't bother muffling, clenching hard around me, hips grinding against my face, thighs trembling, my name mixed with profanity in a combination I planned to replay in my head for the rest of my life.
Her thighs were still trembling when she grabbed my jaw and pulled me up. "Get up here."
I stood and she was already at my belt. Got it open, shoved my jeans and boxers down, and wrapped her hand around my cock. I jerked against her palm and my forehead dropped to her shoulder and I heard myself groan into her neck.
"Hard for me," she said, stroking, her grip firm and sure and devastating. "How long?"
"Since Thursday."
"Liar."
"Not even a little."
She twisted her grip on the upstroke, thumb sliding through the wetness at the head, and my brain shorted out. Then she slid off the bar, dropped to her knees, and took me in her mouth.
I caught the rail for balance. Her lips were still red and she looked up at me while she sucked and the visual alone almost finished me. She swallowed me down, tongue working the underside, one hand wrapped around the base, and the wet heat and the suction were taking me apart.
"Jenna, fuck—"
She hollowed her cheeks and took me deeper and I felt the back of her throat and my hand found her hair, not pushing, holding on, because if I didn't hold onto something I was going to lose my knees. She pulled back to the tip and swirled and sucked and then deep again, and my knees were going, my grip on her hair the only thing keeping me upright, and I eased her off because thirty more seconds of her mouth and this was over.
"Not yet," I said. My voice sounded wrecked. "I want to be inside you."
"Clean?”
“Check. You?”
“Yes. And I’m on the pill. Now get inside me."
She stood and I spun her around and bent her over the bar. Her hands braced flat on the wood and she pushed her ass back into me and the curve of it on my cock made me grip her hips hard enough to leave marks.
"You going to stare or are you going to fuck me?" she said over her shoulder.
I lined up and drove into her in one long stroke.
The groan that came out of me was involuntary and obscene. She was tight and hot and wet and the feeling of sliding into her bare, nothing between us, wiped every thought I'd ever had.
"Oh fuck," she breathed. "Oh, fuck, you feel—"
"Yeah." I bottomed out and held still, jaw clenched, because the sensation was so intense I needed a second to not end this embarrassingly fast. She didn't give me one. She pressed back against me, grinding, her voice dropping low and filthy, and I started to move.
I fucked her hard. She wanted it hard. Told me so in explicit detail between moans that bounced off the bottle wall. I gave her everything, one hand on her hip, the other braced on the wood next to hers, driving into her with a rhythm that rattled the glasses on the shelf. I could see myself sliding in and out of her, wet and slick, and the visual combined with her moans and the way her pussy clenched around me was pushing me toward the edge faster than I wanted.
I slowed down. Long, deep strokes, pulling almost all the way out and sinking back in, and she cursed and tried to push back for more.
"Don't you dare slow down."
"Patience."
"I don't have patience. I have a place I need to clean and a bodyguard who's taking too long to make me come."
I slammed into her deep enough to knock her breath out and she gasped and then laughed, startled and hungry, and I loved the sound so much I did it again.
"Harder, God, yes, right there—"
"You feel incredible." I was bent over her, lips at her ear, and the words came out rough and raw. "So fucking good. You have any idea—"
"Less talking," she panted. "More fucking."
