I have a pretty good suspicion of what would have gone down. I run a scathing eye over her dress. It’s cut so low that her breasts almost heave out with every angry breath. The slit up her thigh is almost crotch-high.
“I had it under control,” she mutters.
“You were going to fuck him.”
She doesn’t respond.
“It’s true, isn’t it?” I push out. Rage is suddenly winning out over the relief of having her back.
“So what if I was?” she finally snaps. “It has nothing to do with you.”
I stare at her for a second. Yep, rage is definitely winning the day.
“You’d do that?” I shake my head. “Have sex with the man who raped you? Who murdered your brother? What the hell is wrong with you?” I want to reach out and shake her till her teeth rattle. Till there’s room for sense in that hard head of hers.
“You don’t get to make judgments about what I do or don’t do with my body. Or my life!”
“How could you say that, Andy? After_”
“After what?” Her jaw juts out. “After we fucked?”
I feel my throat work as I swallow.
“Because you know that’s all it was, right?”
Not for me, it wasn’t.
“Sure!” I bite out. “Just another fuck. Another way to fill your insatiable cunt till you found someone else to do it for you.”
It’s a low blow and I’m not surprised when her hand swings up to strike my face. I catch her wrist before her palm connects though. When she tries to jerk free, I pull her roughly against me, feeling her breasts heaving against the front of my shirt. Before she can aim more venomous words at me – before I can do the same – I lower my head and close my mouth over hers. She clamps her lips tightly shut, but I run my tongue over the full swell, prying them open. Her struggles grow half-hearted. For the second time tonight, she melts against me as I deepen the kiss.
Whatever may have happened between us, this is a place we’ve always managed to connect. Her fingers curl into the lapels of my jacket and then they’re grasping at the damp fabric. It’s barely seconds before both of us are panting.
My hands rove down her back, cupping her ass. Wishing I wasn’t remembering Whitlock’s touch there. I slide one palm to her hip, feeling the smooth bare flesh where the slit of the dress splays open. As my hand explores further, there’s no lace or satin to hamper my fingers. She’s bare beneath the revealing dress. Easy access.
I want to groan low in my throat, but I don’t.
“Were you really going to make it that easy for him?” I say cruelly instead. “Your cunt’s practically on display.”
“You bastard!” she snarls. Her hand is up again, clawing at me, but I grab it and pin it behind her. She yelps then makes a small mewling sound as my fingers press between her thighs and slide into her. Easily…so damn easily.
“You’d do that, Andy?” I ask, finding her wet…hot. “You’d give yourself to him?”
She twists against me, the struggle futile. I’m not the one she’s fighting. She’s already spreading her legs to let my hand in further.
“You don’t understand!” she says hoarsely.
“Oh, I understand enough.” I sneer. “If you’re that hungry for cock, you can have mine.” I pull her hand around and cup it over the front of my pants, rubbing roughly against her palm. As perverse as it seems, I’m already hard as a rock. “Unzip me.”
“Fuck you!” She pulls her hand away. But she gnaws on her lip as I seek out her clit and begin rubbing wet circles over it.
“Do it!”
Her hand hovers, and I flick my fly free, then take her fingers and close them around the zipper tab. I keep my eyes locked with hers as the metal grinds loose. I’m so damn hot for her, I could explode with just the touch of her fingers on my flesh. Although I’m probably risking my manhood right now because at any moment she might sink her nails into me…or worse.
I keep working that little nub, feeling it begin to engorge and swell beneath my fingers. Her hips start pushing forward in small rolling motions.
“You’re wet as fuck,” I say, not breaking eye contact. She makes a whimpering sound in the back of her throat, glaring at me. And then something gives. I feel her hand delve into the front of my pants, past the waistband of my shorts. My breath hisses out as fingertips stroke my flesh. “Jesus, Andy…”
