Her words were disjointed, but so were her thoughts. Not that it mattered; an almost-growl rumbled through him as he slid two long fingers into her, and she forgot what thoughts even were as he worked them in and out until she was shaking.
He pulled away abruptly, but before she could protest, she heard the rustle of fabric, the rip of a condom packet, and then his breath wasn’t the only hot thing caressing her skin. Not being able to see him was delicious torture. She was at his mercy, unable to control what he did next. And what he did next was take his cock and trace it up and down the same path his fingers had just taken, circling her clit, then sliding up to tease her entrance, back and forth until she thought she’d explode.
“Fuck, Leo,” she gasped. “Fill me up already.”
He answered with a light slap to her ass, and then she felt the stretch of his cock sliding inside her body. God, she’d forgotten. How had she forgotten the way he fit her just right?
“That feels amaz—”
He cut her off with a hand over her mouth as he drove into her with hard strokes. He grunted with each thrust, and he kept her torso pinned to the black metal table. Shock danced along her skin when she realized what he was doing: No eye contact. No talking. No emotion. This wasn’t Faith and Leo reconnecting; this was the collision of two bodies. She might as well be a stranger he was using to work out his lust.
She should be enraged. She should bite the hand covering her mouth, should stomp on his foot, should shake him off her. But in truth, the realization spiked her lust even higher. He wanted to use her body to work out all that anger coiling between them? Fine. She was on-fucking-board with that.
Arching her back, she thrust upward, straining up on her toes to grind against him each time his hips slammed into her, increasing the friction and meeting his determined silence with her own.
Leo broke first.
“Fai—fuck,” he gasped, wrapping an arm around her chest and pulling her up against him. His fingers plunged under her tank, inside her bra, and he pinched her nipple, making her see stars. His other hand found her clit, and the stars became fireworks.
She was pinned to his body by his hands and his cock, and her mind short-circuited at the realization that they were still mostly dressed, their only skin-to-skin contact the places where his fingers tweaked and circled and teased and, of course, where he was thrusting and retreating and stoking the heat even higher.
She should feel cheap. She should feel used. Instead, she felt dirty and powerful and, oh hello, that was an orgasm shimmering on the horizon.
She pressed down on Leo’s fingers where they circled her clit. “That’s perfect. Stay right there,” she gasped.
He did as instructed, chest heaving against her back as he worked her and worked her until she gasped and shuddered and sagged against him. Only then did he remove his hands from under her clothing to grasp her hips for his final frantic thrusts, ending in a muffled groan against her shoulder as he came.
They both slumped against the table afterward, his body hot against her back, the metal cool against her cheek.
When he finally pulled away from her, she felt the whisper of a touch against the nape of her neck. She almost wondered if he’d pressed his lips there but immediately dismissed the idea. This wasn’t sex that ended with a kiss. This was desperation and pressure release, nothing more.
The thought brought her back to reality, and she immediately straightened, tugging her skirt back into place. Self-consciousness crept in at what had just happened, how she’d sounded, how she’d looked. What they’d just done.
He didn’t seem bothered by anything though. He might still be in the room with her, but he’d clearly disappeared into his thoughts as he tossed the condom into the trash can in the corner, adjusted his pants, and pushed his hair back into place as best as he could. By the time he was dressed again, she was feeling awkward as hell, and when he opened his mouth to speak, she lifted her hand to stop him.
“Don’t. Just don’t.”
His mouth snapped shut, and he watched her warily as she rebuttoned her jacket and felt behind her to confirm that yes, the safety pin holding her skirt together in lieu of the missing button hadn’t gone anywhere.
“I don’t need to hear it, okay?” She was suddenly bone-tired, and she didn’t have anything left in her tank for another lecture from her sulky, hot-as-hell ex-boyfriend. “I get that we’re not friends. I get that this was a mistake. You can skip the big speech.”
He ran his thumb along a thick eyebrow before pressing it against his temple as if he had a headache. “I was just going to ask if you were okay to get home.”
He sounded almost gentle. Almost like the boy she’d been crazy about in high school. But as she stared at him unspeaking, that hint of vulnerability vanished, and he became the iron-jawed asshole she’d been dealing with since he moved back to town.
“But you’re obviously fine,” he said tightly.
“Been taking care of myself for a while now.” Back when she’d been a dumb kid, she’d dreamed that he’d be the one to do the taking-care-of someday, but she’d been wrong. And she hadn’t made that mistake since.
There didn’t seem to be much else to say after that, so she swooped her discarded purse off the floor and turned to leave. But something made her turn back. When she did, she found that he hadn’t moved; his eyes were opaque, and the crooked collar of his shirt was the only sign of what they’d just done together.
“Um, thanks,” she said. “For the grant. It means a lot.”
His brows snapped together. “I didn’t do it for you.”
She inhaled hard through her nose, forcing herself to stay silent for a five count to keep herself from lashing back. Once she’d subdued her temper, she allowed herself to exhale.
“If you say so, Leo.” Then she pushed the door open and left.
