Me, obviously.
My hands shook as they slid under her thighs, lifting her higher on the counter so I could grind against her more, the soaked denim chafing my cock in the best way. Every roll of my hips pulled a whimper from her, and I swallowed it like oxygen.
Take her home. Chain her to the bed. Never let her leave.
The thought hit savagely, a growl rumbling in my chest. I pictured her wrists in cuffs, ankles spread, my sheets twisted around her naked body while I fucked her over and over for days. Weeks. Forever.
Except…when I’d pushed my fingers inside her, there’d been resistance…She’d gasped like it hurt anddidn’tat the same time.
I was pretty sure she was a virgin. And if not a virgin—although I wanted to kill someone thinking of another guy touching her—then at least very inexperienced.
When I had sex with her, it couldn’t be on some random bathroom counter with some drunk pounding on the door. It would be in my bed with candles, clean sheets…her name carved into the headboard. Perfect.Mine.
I pulled back just enough to rest my forehead against hers, breath ragged, heart pounding like I’d just run sprints. Her scent, sweat, sex,her, filled my lungs, and I wanted to drown in it.
She shifted on the counter, thighs spreading wider, and a wince flashed across her face. A soft, pained sound slipped out before she could stop it.
I froze, worry spiking through the haze. “Are you sore, sweetheart?”
Her cheeks flushed deeper, eyes dropping. “Yeah…a little, but it’s agoodsore,” she blurted, almost tripping over the words like she was scared I’d take it the wrong way.
Pride hit me hard, a dark, possessive thrill curling in my gut.I did that. Made it so she would feel me hours from now.
Marked her in a way no one else ever would again.
Underneath the rush, though, I made a mental note to watch her…She liked to be my good girl, to please, even when it hurt. I never wanted to let that sweetness be something that hurt her.
I cupped her face, my thumb brushing her lip as I grinned. “Fuck, I love that.”
Ophelia bit her lip, then glanced toward the door. “I guess we should go back out there,” she said in a small, disappointed voice.
She looked worried suddenly, her fingers twisting in my shirt, tugging like she didn’t want to let go.
I didn’t want to, either.
The idea of stepping back into that noise, of having anyone else look at her…it felt wrong.
But I couldn’t keep her in a dirty bathroom forever.
“I guess we should,” I murmured, even though every part of me rebelled against it.
I slid my hands to her waist and lifted her off the counter, setting her gently on her feet. She wobbled, and my grip tightened automatically. I didn’t miss the tiny wince, or the way she tried to hide it behind a shy smile.
“Easy,” I said softly, letting my thumb trace the edge of her hip again because I couldn’tnottouch her.
I glanced around, huffing out a quiet laugh when I saw the torn scrap of lace on the floor. I grabbed the ruined panties, holding them up by one finger. The lace hung in shreds—my best handiwork, if I did say so myself.
“These aren’t making a comeback, sweet girl.”
Her blush flared, but a giggle escaped, and I savored the sound.
I brought the scrap to my nose, inhaling her scent. It was sweet and musky…my new favorite aroma.
My cock pulsed, another hot spurt leaking into my already soaked jeans. I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing myself to picture Emma and iced milk, anything to keep from coming again right there.
That actually worked quite well.
“I’m keeping these,” I rasped, hoping the roughness in my voice didn’t spook her.
