Cross let out a sharp laugh. “Groupies don’t talk back,” he growled, yanking my head back.
I arched into the pain, into the stretch of him filling me, the piercing inside me — moving. “Then fuck me like I’myours,” I panted, the words slipping out before I could stop them. The railing dug into my ribs almost unbearably. The city below was still asleep, oblivious, but up here, the world had narrowed to the wet sound of skin on skin.
His grip on my hair tightened, and for a second, I thought he might actually snap — pull too hard, shove too deep, do something reckless. But then his free hand slid around my waist, fingers finding my clit. He rubbed it, slowly, teasing me, before pinching hard enough to make my vision white out.
“Say it again,” he demanded, his voice a rasp against my ear. The phone’s lens was inches from my face now, capturing the way my lips parted, the way my eyes fluttered shut when he rolled his hips.
“I’m yours,” I moaned. And I didn’t just say it because it sounded hot, though it did sound extremely hot.
The words hung in the thick air between us, heavier than the humidity clinging to my skin. Cross stilled behind me, his breathragged against my neck. I heard the clatter of the phone as he tossed it over the patio chair.
I ground my hips against him, trying to tease him into motion, but before I could finish a full circle, his cock slammed into me so hard I cried out. His hand left my hip, sliding up to wrap around my throat. He pulled me up against his body, holding me pinned against him.
“Again,” he growled against my ear. His other arm banded across my waist, fingers splayed over my stomach.
“I’m yours,” I gasped.
A rough sound tore out of him. Then he started fucking me like he’d lost control.
Hard. With thrusts that lifted me onto my toes.
“Fuck— Mary—” His voice was wrecked. “You have no idea what you just did.”
Oh, I hadsomeidea.
All those filthy midnight texts when he was half-drunk, sent under the handle of SaintCross69, told me enough about the kind of man he was. Obsessive, generous… and alone. That was generally the way it went with all famous people. I suspected that under all that ego, he just wanted to beloved. I could give him that fantasy.
He suddenly pulled out, spun me around, and lifted me onto the wide railing like I weighed nothing. My back arched over the terrifying drop as he shoved my legs open and thrust back inside in one violent stroke.
I wrapped my arms around him, my mouth next to his ear. “Just like that, baby,” I cooed, running my hand in his hair. “You’re fucking me so, so well…”
Cross made a broken sound against my neck — half growl, half surrender — and drove into me harder, if that was even possible. The railing creaked under my ass, and for a moment I feared Imight go over. My legs locked around his waist, heels digging into his lower back, pulling him deeper.
“Fuck…” I tugged at his hair, feeling the pleasure building, and moaned against his neck. “I’m coming— I—"
Cross groaned, his hips stuttering as he buried himself to the hilt, the piercing rubbing against me in a way that made my vision swim. His fingers dug into my thighs, and then he was coming with a rough curse, his cock pulsing deep inside me.
His forehead pressed against mine, his chest heaving as he fought to steady himself. Our breaths came in labored gasps, and for a split second, I thought I might just pass out. His hands slid up my back, fingers tangling in my damp hair. I could feel his cum already dripping down my thigh.
He pulled back just enough to look at me.
“Think we woke up the neighbors?” I asked, my breathing still fast.
Cross let out a breathless laugh. “If we didn’t, they’re deaf.” His thumb brushed over my bottom lip, pulling it down slightly before he leaned in to kiss me.
Oh, boy. The things that mouth did to me. I couldn’t understand how one man — a man! — could make me feel this… unsteady. What backwoods voodoo was this?
When he finally pulled out, and the rest of his cum trickled down my thigh, I was properly breathless again. And then—
I felt his fingers on my pussy, spreading me open, moving back to watch the cum drip down onto the tiled floor. “Such a filthy girl.”
Me? Filthy? It’s you who’s—
Suddenly, he was on one knee, his mouth hot against my cunt, lapping up his own cum.
“Oh—” I gasped, and my fingers knotted in his hair as his tongue dragged over me. The piercing in his tongue caught against my clit, and I jerked.
“Too much,” I whimpered, trying to push him away even as my hips rocked forward.
