I suck hard enough that she gasps and her back arches off the dresser. Her hand grabs the back of my head and holds me there.
"Yes—like that—don't stop?—"
I push her scrub pants down with one hand while my mouth works.
She kicks them off.
I slide my hand between her thighs and find her already wet—hot and slick and ready—and the sound I make against her skin is something between a groan and a prayer.
Two fingers inside her. No build-up. She cries out and her thighs clench around my hand. I press my forehead against hers to watch her face while I work her.
Nothing like the first time. Nothing gentle about it.
This is fast and rough and exactly what both of us need—the anger and the fear and the helplessness channeled into something that makes us both feel alive instead of hunted.
"More," she says. "Coin—more?—"
I pull my hand away and she makes a sound of protest that I swallow with my mouth.
Kiss her hard while I shove my jeans down.
Condom—nightstand—she wraps her hand around me and strokes once and I nearly lose my mind.
"Now," she says. "Right now."
I lift her hips and push into her in one stroke.
She screams.
Not in pain, but in something that sounds like relief.
Like she's been waiting for this since the second she walked through my door and told me I didn't have to be gentle.
I set a pace that has nothing to do with patience.
Hard. Deep.
Her back against the dresser, her legs locked around me, her nails raking down my shoulders.
The dresser rocks against the wall with every thrust and I don't care.
The whole goddamn house could come down around us right now and I wouldn't stop.
"Harder," she says, and her voice is wrecked. "God, Coin. Harder!"
I give her harder.
I give her everything. Every ounce of anger and fear and want that I've been locking down for weeks.
I fuck her like I'm trying to burn it out of me, and she takes it.
All of it.
She doesn't try to gentle me, doesn't tell me to slow down, doesn't treat me like something fragile.
She matches me, thrust for thrust, her body rising to meet mine, her mouth hot against my neck, my shoulder, my jaw.
"I'm—Coin, I'm going to?—"
