“Where are we going?”
We make it as far as the hallway before I realize we’re not going to make it to the bedroom. I walk far enough to reach an alcove in the hall and I practically lift her up and smash her into the wall, slamming my body up against hers.
“Zeth!”
“Yeah, just like that. Hearing my name coming out of your mouth like that—that’s what makes me feel like a man,” I growl. Her wet hair brushes my face as I bend to kiss her neck, her jawline, her collarbone. She tastes fresh and clean and uniquely her. My cock is throbbing in my pants, so fucking hard. I have to have her. I can’t fucking wait.
I rip the T-shirt over her head and immediately bury my face in her cleavage. The. Most. Amazing. Tits. Ever. I pin her with the lower half of my body, her legs wrapped around my waist, and I can then grab hold of those beautiful tits and I squeeze. Sloane gasps, her head rocking back to expose more of her neck. I don’t have enough fucking hands. I want to be stroking and touching her everywhere.
“Damn it, girl.” I huff against her skin, grinding my dick against her. It feels amazing; I want to push harder, to sink myself so deep inside her that she screams loud enough to wake the whole house up.
She’s incredible. I take both her tits and push them together so that the pink, tightened nipples stand erect, begging me to play. She makes stifled moaning sounds as I lick at her, sucking each nipple in turn and then biting down just hard enough to make her inhale sharply. Her head kicks forward and a jolt of remembrance slams through me—her kissing me the last time I fucked her like this. How she just leaned forward and smashed her lips against mine, digging her hands in her hair. How it set me on fire. I can tell she’s thinking about that kiss, too. It would be the most natural thing in the world to kiss her now. It would be easy. Suddenly my heart is slamming inside my chest, each and every beat chanting, I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I retreat a little and let her legs slide down so her feet are on the floor.
“What’s—”
I unbutton her pants before she can finish that. She’s going to ask what’s wrong, and I don’t wanna hear it. I don’t wanna hear anything about right and wrong. This whole situation, her and me, none of it qualifies under either heading.
I rip her pants down, smirking a little when she has to put her hands on my shoulders for balance. I don’t just pull them down; I tear them off her body, taking her dainty little leather sandals with them.
She stands before me in her panties, hands twitching by her sides, trying to decide whether she wants to cover her chest or not. She’s all curves and soft lines, slim yet feminine, shy but completely unaware of the sexual energy she exudes.
I have to fuck this girl.
Right fucking now.
“Turn around, Sloane.” She gives me a guarded look, but her chest is heaving. She’s as turned on as I am. She’ll do anything I ask her to right now. That thought sets my blood on fire. And considering where most of my blood is right now, it feels like my cock is about to explode. She shoves away from the wall, turning slowly, giving me a hesitant last glance over her shoulder.
I take one look at her ass in the black lace French underwear she’s got on and I’m done for. It takes me three seconds to strip completely naked. I run my hands down the toned lines of her back, and I cup her ass cheeks, sucking in a sharp breath through my teeth. I can’t wait. I can’t fucking wait to slam home on that thing. It takes monumental restraint to gently push Sloane forward, so that she can brace herself against the wall. This has the effect I was going for; she’s bent at the waist, presenting her ass to me. And it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
She’s trembling with need. I wasn’t joking before—I feel like the motherfucking king of the world when I do this to her. I slide my hands over her sides and curve myself over her, reaching to palm her tits. They hang down, heavy and full, so amazing. I feel like a kid in a playground, and her body is my own personal ride. I thrust my hips against her and I nearly explode right there and then when she bows her back like a cat and pushes back.
“Fuck, Sloane.”
“Fuck me,” she returns. “Fuck me now. Please. Please…”
Her breathless pleading like music to my ears. She’s already wet for me—I can feel it through her panties, already soaking my dick—so I’m not gentle. I can’t be. I have zero restraint. I grab hold of those pretty panties and I rip them, not even a little remorseful about the waste. I’ll buy her more. I’ll buy her thousands of dollars worth of black lace in exchange for these ones right now. It’s the fairest trade I’ve ever made. Sloane cries out; I can tell she’s trying to stop herself, but she’s not succeeding. I’m crowing like a fucking badass cockerel in my head over that, over the fact that she can’t control herself.