As his fists pummeled and his feet moved, I had wondered if I ever really knew him at all.
But then the fight was over and that crowd was cheering again, and I felt that same thrill that I had felt the other night. I knew that no matter what, I was drawn to him, and I couldn’t deny it. I was drawn to him inexplicably, like a planet pulled toward a star. I just had to be careful that it didn’t swallow me up.
But of course, whenever I got around him I completely lost myself. I only wanted more and more, and I didn’t think about the consequences. I couldn’t help myself, not when he touched me, and especially not when he kissed me.
Which was why, when he pressed his lips against mine in that empty dressing room, I knew that I was going to let him slide his hand down under my dress and feel how soaking wet I was.
“I knew this was what you wanted,” he whispered in my ear.
We stood in the middle of the room, his lips against my ear, his hand between my legs. Shivers ran races down my spine as wave after wave of cascading pleasure crawled through me.
I’d already told him I wanted him to stay, but I hadn’t been completely honest with him. I didn’t tell him why I wanted him to stay: because I couldn’t stop thinking about those nights, a year ago, when he made me feel so much.
I gasped as his fingers deftly flicked under my panties and found my clit. I bit down on his shoulder as he began to move in furious circles.
“Easy there,” he grunted. “There’s a lot more to come, girl.”
“Shit. Sorry.” He laughed and kissed my neck, rubbing my pussy.
“I get it. You’re starving.”
“No,” I gasped. “Not at all.”
“Liar. When are you going to figure it out?”
“Figure out what?”
His fingers stopped and his hand pulled away from me. I let out a small noise but stifled it, stopping myself from begging him not to move.
“I know exactly what you want.”
He kissed me again, our lips pressed together, his tongue and taste entering my mouth, sending my head into dizzying circles.
His hands were on me again, running up my legs, cupping my ass, pressing my breasts together, touching every inch of exposed skin. I couldn’t help but throw myself into it, kissing him back with abandon. I needed his hand back on my clit, back on my spot, sending me into ecstasy.
And then his strong arms wrapped around me and lifted me off my feet.
“Hey!” I squealed. It wasn’t very ladylike.
He laughed and carried me over to the couch, pushing me down into the cushions. He crushed me with his body.
“Asshole. Don’t pick me up.”
“I’ll do what I want,” he whispered in my ear as he kissed my neck.
“No you will—” I began to say, and stopped as his fingers found my pussy again, my dress slid up along my hips.
“Fuck,” I gasped instead.
“I know you like that,” he said. “I know you can’t help yourself when I work this little clit.”
“Cole,” I moaned.
“I wonder,” he said, moving back and sliding my panties down my legs, “which Cole you’re talking about. Your husband or your stepbrother?”
“Neither,” I gasped as he spread my legs apart.
“I think both.”
His face dropped from view as his tongue and mouth found my pussy.
I couldn’t argue. I couldn’t say a word, or even think, as his tongue licked my pussy with the perfect amount of pressure. His fingers began to slide inside me, moving slowly in and out as his tongue sucked and licked my clit.
“Holy shit,” I gasped.
“You taste amazing,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about this for a year.”
“That feels incredible,” I gasped as I grabbed his hair. I felt like I might tear it from his scalp, but he just kept working me.
His strong hands spread my legs even wider, working my pussy, sucking my clit, lapping up every inch of me. It was incredible, pure fire, as he did his work.
It was just like I remembered. There was nothing else but his mouth and his body working my clit, my whole body tense as waves of pleasure overtook me.
I couldn’t believe I was letting him lick my clit and fuck my pussy with his fingers in some random dressing room after I had watched him beat a man in a fight, but I couldn’t stop him even if I wanted to. He was a force, a wave washing down over me, rolling through my body and taking me way beyond myself.
“This fucking cunt,” he said, kissing my clit, “is perfect.”
“Don’t stop,” I moaned. I couldn’t help myself. I’d beg him to do whatever he wanted so long as he kept making me feel so incredibly good.
He reached up and took my hair in his fist. “You want this, don’t you?” he whispered in my ear, pulling me down toward him.