He found my core, already weeping for him, and I burrowed my nails into his back again, scoring his skin once he found my clit.
Pumping my hips, I sought release—he owed me that much after handing that man his ass downstairs—I chased his lips and thrust my tongue between his this time.
As I fucked his mouth while he finger-banged me, I shimmied against him in the semi-darkness, reveling in the roars from the crowd, my favorite songs playing, and the possessive fury of this man who was mine.
I exploded, then screamed as he continued plunging two fingers into me, hunting down my G-spot like it was prey, palpating it over and over and over until I found a second release.
I sagged in his hold, but my nails remained buried in his back as he pummeled me with pleasure. Unyielding until I was a moaning, mewling mess.
Finally, he relented.
Finally, he petted my pussy.
Finally, he pulled back from the kiss to end all kisses that started with me dominating it, only for him to prove he owned me.
Deep down, deeper than my core, deeper than my heart, I knew he alwayshad.
Stan proceeded to suck on his fingers while my dazed eyes struggled to flutter open.
I felt his erection branding my stomach, but the strange gleam in his expression caught my attention. He’d been in a weird mood all day, so floating on a nebulous cloud of orgasmical hormones or not, I knew when something was going down.
“What did you do?”
His brows lifted at the odd question.
It wasn’t so odd—we might only have dated one another a short while, but I recognized that expression.
I’d grown up around too many boys not to recognize mischief when I saw it.
“Come with me,gattaredda.”
My brows lifted too. “Been a while since you called me that.”
Humor danced in his eyes, which came as a shock. I figured he’d be fucking me into the floor by now.
“Can you stand,duci?”
“You want to fuck me standing when there’s a perfectly good table over there?”
“You’re right,” he agreed, then I yelped when he swung me into his arms again.Afterhe straightened out my dress.
Only, instead of taking me to the table, he carried me out of the box and into another room.
A bright one.
I pulled a face at the light, blinking back spots as he deposited me on a couch.
“What’s going on?” I complained because he didn’t tumble me into the cushions. If anything, he straightened.
When I peered around, I frowned at what I saw.
Then, I glanced at him and took note of that strange fire again—it was more prevalent in the light. Fiercer. Those chestnut orbs glittered. Any other guy, I’d have said he was high.
But not Stan.
I knew his ‘high look’ better than most.
This was something else entirely.
