Page 42 of Make Them Pay

We choose it anyway.

The slowness burns off fast. His hand slides from my neck into my hair and his other arm wraps around my waist and yanks me hard against him. The contact is total. Chest to chest. Hip to hip. The heat of his body through the thin thermal shirt is so intense it feels like standing too close to a fire I walked into on purpose.

I pull at his shirt. Not carefully. Roughly. The fabric bunches in my fists and I use it as leverage to press harder against him. He makes a low, broken sound against my mouth that I’ve never heard from him before. Desperate. Needy. Filthy with want.

“Fuck,” he mutters against my lips. “I’ve wanted this for so goddamn long. Wanted you. Wanted to get my hands on you and my mouth on you and feel every inch of this body I’ve been starving for.”

We hit the wall. My back against the cold metal of the storage unit, his body pinning me there hard. His hands are in my hair and on my waist and then sliding under the hoodie, rough and hungry. His mouth moves from my lips to my jaw to the side of my neck where my pulse is racing so hard it feels like it might break through the skin.

“Enley.” My name in his mouth, spoken against my throat, the vibration of his voice traveling through me like a current. “You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about this. Jerked off to this. About bending you over something and making you come so hard you forget every reason we weren’t supposed to do this.”

His words turn me on. The thought of him relieving himself to thoughts of me nearly undo me. I yank the hoodie over my head and drop it. The thermal base layer underneath is thin and I hear his breathing change the second he sees me in it. He’s seen me in this same layer for days. But context changes everything. Context is the difference between a base layer worn for warmth and a base layer worn by a woman who just pulled off the only barrier between his hands and her skin.

His hands find the hem. His fingers slide under the fabric and touch my bare waist and the contact of his hot skin on mine sends a shock through my system so sharp that my knees buckle. He catches me. Obviously he catches me. I think this man will always catch me when I fall.

“Jesus,” he breathes, voice rough and ragged. “You’re so fucking soft. I knew you would be. I’ve been dying to get my hands under these clothes and feel you like this.”

We don’t make it to the cot. We don’t make it anywhere. The wall holds me up and he holds me up and the space we occupy is about three square feet of storage unit that’s become the entire world.

It’s not graceful. It’s not the slow, careful intimacy of people who have had time to learn each other’s bodies. It’s desperate and messy and half-dressed because the urgency won’t allow anything else. He shoves the thermal shirt up and his mouth finds the skin of my stomach, then higher, and the heat of his tongue makes me gasp and arch against the cold metal.

“Look at you,” he mutters against my skin, voice thick and filthy. “All this time and you’re already shaking for me. I’ve wanted to get you like this for years. Wet and desperate and making those little sounds just for me.”

His hand slides between us, finding the waistband of my pants, and when his fingers slip inside I make a broken noise that turns into a moan the second he touches me properly.

“Fuck, Enley.” His forehead drops against mine, breath ragged. “You’re soaked. You’ve been wanting this as bad as I have, haven’t you? Sitting next to me for days, letting me almost touch you, knowing I was hard and aching for you the whole time.”

“Yes,” I manage, the word half a sob as his fingers work me open. “Yes. Don’t stop.”

He doesn’t. He strokes me with a rough, focused intensity that makes my hips rock against his hand. His mouth is at my ear, voice low and dirty and completely unrestrained.

“I’ve thought about fucking you against every wall in every room we’ve been in. Thought about how you’d sound when I finally got inside you. Thought about making you come so many times you’d forget how to stand.”

I pull at his pants with shaking hands. He helps me, shoving them down just enough, and when I wrap my fingers around his dick he curses hard against my neck.

“That’s it,” he growls. “Touch me. Feel how hard you make me. Years of wanting this and you’re finally in my hands.”

He lifts me higher against the wall. My legs wrap around his waist. The head of him presses against me and we both freeze for one heartbeat, the last possible second to change our minds.

We don’t.

He pushes into me in one hard, deep thrust that forces a cry from my throat. The stretch is perfect and overwhelming and exactly what I’ve been starving for. He holds still for a second, forehead pressed to mine, both of us shaking.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “You feel even better than I imagined. So tight. So fucking perfect around me.”

Then he starts to move. Hard. Deep. The rhythm is urgent and relentless, the wet sound of our bodies and the metal wall creaking under the force of it. Every thrust drives me higher against the cold surface. His hands dig into my thighs, holding me open for him. His mouth is at my ear, filthy and continuous.

“That’s it. Take it. Take every inch. I’ve waited so long to get inside you and now I’m going to fuck you like I mean it.”

I dig my nails into his shoulders and meet every thrust. The pleasure is sharp and building fast, coiling tight in my lower stomach. He shifts the angle and hits a spot that makes my vision go white for a second.

“Right there,” I gasp. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t. I’m not stopping until you come all over me. Until I feel you break. Come for me, Enley. Let me feel it.”

The orgasm hits hard and sudden. I cry out against his mouth as it rips through me, clenching around him, shaking so hard I’d fall if he weren’t holding me up. He follows a few thrusts later with a low, broken groan, burying himself deep and pulsing inside me as he comes.

We stay like that for a long moment. Foreheads pressed together. Breathing hard. Bodies still joined. His hands are still shaking. So are mine.