“More,” I gasped, my hands fisting in his hair. “Austin, please.”
His mouth moved lower, his tongue flicking out to taste my skin. When he reached my breasts, he paused, his breath hot against my skin, and looked up at me with eyes so intense they burned.
“I need you,” he said simply, and then his mouth closed over one peak.
The sensation was a jolt of pure pleasure that shot straight to my center. A sharp, ragged gasp escaped me. His scruff was a delicious abrasion against the sensitive skin, and his mouth was hot, wet, and demanding. He licked and sucked, one hand coming up to cup my otherbreast, his calloused thumb stroking, teasing the peak into a tight, hard bud.
My head fell back against the cool, grimy windowpane, and my mind dissolved into pure sensation. But I wasn’t content to simply receive. An answering need surged through me, a desperate hunger that demanded I touch him, claim him back. I slid my hand down his sweat-slicked torso, over the hard ridges of his abdomen, feeling the muscles jump under my touch.
“Shit,” he hissed, his hips bucking forward involuntarily. “My G?—”
His words cut off on a strangled groan as I wrapped my hand around his thick, hot length. He was heavy and hard, throbbing in my palm. I stroked him once, twice, learning the feel of him, and he shuddered against me.
“You’re killing me,” he gasped, his forehead dropping to rest against mine. “I won’t last if you keep doing that.”
“Then don’t,” I said, my voice bold despite the tremor in it. “I want you to lose control. I want to see you fall apart in front of me.”
Something wild flashed in his eyes, and suddenly his hand was sliding across my stomach, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. His calloused fingers, so competent and sure, dipped lower, threading between my legs. I gasped and opened them wider, my back arching against the windowpane as he found me slick.
“Jesus,” he muttered. “You are ready for this, aren’t you?”
I could only nod, beyond words, as his thumb found the sensitive bundle of nerves at my center and began to move in slow, deliberate circles. The coil of pleasure inside me, already tight from his mouth on my breast, wound impossibly tighter.
“Austin,” I breathed, my hips moving against his hand. “Please.”
His motions were relentless, his thumb never stopping its maddening circles. I cried out, my body clenching, and he cursed under his breath.
“You feel so good,” he said, his voice strained. “I need to be inside you. Now.”
The raw desperation in his voice made me clench harder. He was coming apart at the seams, and I loved it. I loved that I could reduce this controlled, careful man to base need and pleading.
I watched, dazed and gasping, as he fumbled for his wallet with shaking hands, retrieving a condom and rolling it on with clumsy, desperate efficiency. The sight of him preparing himself for me, his jaw clenched with concentration and need, was almost my undoing.
Then he positioned himself between my legs, his hands gripping my hips, and I could feel the blunt head of him pressing against my entrance. He entered me in one deep, decisive thrust that drove the air from my lungs in a sharp cry. My back pressed against the windowpane. The sensation of being filled by him was everything. He was perfectly big, stretching me in the most delicious way, and for a moment we both just breathed, adjusting to the perfection of it.
“God,” he growled, his face a mask of intense concentration. “You’re so tight. So right.”
He began to move, and the rhythm he set was frantic, almost desperate. This was not the man who methodically repaired fishing rods and hung siding. This was someone else entirely. Someone raw, untamed, driven by weeks of suppressed need.
I wrapped my legs around his lean waist, pulling him deeper, meeting him thrust for powerful thrust. Thefriction was exquisite, building a fire inside me that threatened to consume us both. I raked my nails down the hard muscles of his back, feeling the skin ripple, earning a sharp hiss from him.
“Yes,” I cried out, as my back slammed against the window again and again. “God, yes. Harder, Austin. I need more.”
He slammed into me again, deeper this time, harder, and I screamed his name. The sound seemed to drive him wild, and suddenly he was moving with a wild fury, his hips snapping against mine.
“Is this what you want?” he rasped, his voice almost unrecognizable.
“Yes!” I cried, my nails digging into his shoulders. “Don’t stop.”
The coil inside me wound tighter and tighter, past the point of bearing. I was so close, balanced on the knife’s edge of release. Austin must have sensed it because suddenly his hand was between us, his thumb finding that sensitive bundle of nerves and pressing hard.
The wild glare in his eyes, combined with the relentless pressure of his thumb, shattered me. A cry was ripped from my throat, my body convulsing around him as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me. Through the haze of my climax, I felt him stiffen, his release tearing through him with a force that made him shake.
“Iris,” he groaned, my name a prayer on his lips as he climaxed inside me.
We stayed like that for a long time, entwined at the window, breathing hard. Our bodies were slick with sweat and coated in a fine, gritty layer of plaster dust. The reality of what we had just done, and where we had just done it, began to slowly seep back in. As did the uncomfortable press of the window against my spine.
Then worry washed over me, chilling my overheated skin. Was he going to bolt? Put his walls back up and pretend this was just a momentary, regrettable lapse in judgment? I braced myself for the inevitable withdrawal.
