But for some fucked up reason I can’t stop.
I press harder into her. My hand moves up, fingers wrapping around her throat, not to choke, just to hold. To claim. To control the chaos unraveling between us.
“You’re the enemy,” I whisper into her mouth. “And I need to fuck you out of my system, because you’re stuck there.”
What’s about to follow isn’t love. It’s war.
I pull the mask from her face. My mouth moves down to her jaw, to her neck. I hold her wrists above her head with one hand while the other tears at the lace she’s wearing.
She moans; I clamp a hand over her mouth. The music is loud; I’m not risking her moans to be heard.
Wrapping her legs around my waist, I move away from the door and lay her on the table behind me.
Her hips buck when I press against her. Her thighs tremble when I whisper how much I want to ruin her, my mouth moves to her ear, as I rub her pussy. “So wet, and all for me. Tell me to stop,” I ask once more.
No response, but I can see it in her eyes. She wants this.
Moving away, I undo the button to my trousers, and before they drop I take out the condom. No fucking way I’m fucking her bare. I rip it open quickly with my teeth, then I slide the condom on, pull her to the edge of the table, and drive into her hard and fast.
Every thrust is a punishment. Not sure if it’s for me or her.
Her moans disappear into my hands, her nails clawing into my shoulders.
Removing my hand, I replace it with my mouth, a kiss full of a curse, I swallow the moans escaping her.
I grip her hips tighter, so I can thrust in deeper.
“Fuck—” I gasp. “You’re so tight.”
She screams and moans in pleasure. I clamp my hand over her mouth again and keep going, trying to drive everything out of me, hate, lust, rage, until there’s nothing left.
She starts shattering under me, my hand moves a little, knowing that this is the only time this can happen between us, but I want to hear it, my name from her lips. I want to hear so I can hear it over and over, when I walk away from her.
“Matteo,” my name escapes her lips, and it’s a sound of fucking music. Her whole body begins to tremble beneath me.
I thrust hard, a few more times, and I feel myself come hard. Something I’ve wanted to do all week, as I bury myself in her.
When it’s over, I don’t move. I’m still inside her, chest heaving, hands planted on the table like I’ll fall if I let go.
I stare at Aoife, her body knowing it’s now buried with my handprint.
She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t run. And neither do I.
Because I know when I leave, that’s the end.
It has to be the end.
Her body is still trembling beneath mine when I finally pull out of her, and that’s when it hits me, I see the blood. Fuck. I still, then snap my eyes to her.
I pull back just enough to see her face. Her eyes aren’t defiant anymore, they are wide. Raw.
The tension. The way she moves beneath me. The slight hesitation.
Fuck!
I hold my gaze on her. “Was this your first time?”
She doesn't answer. Just stares past me, lips parted, breath still shaky.
