Mercy reached for her bra straps, and she said, “Wait, it opens in the front.”
He was fractious, panicked. “Thank Christ.” With a rough tug, he sprung the clasp and the cups fell to the side, her breasts spilling into his hands, the centers tight, cold, and aching, seeking out the warmth in his palms.
“God,” she breathed. She was covered in gooseflesh, and his fevered skin was delicious as he touched her, cupped her breasts and squeezed.
“Yeah,fillette.” He breathed a thin laugh. “I’ll be your god.”
He put his hand against her sternum and pushed her back, lowered her over the desk. Papers crackled under her shoulders, the desk was rock-hard, but she didn’t care. She lifted her spine and offered her chest to him as he bent to kiss her nipples, draw them into his warm mouth.
He touched her, soothed away the goose bumps with steady passes of his hands, across her belly, her collarbone, her breasts. He smoothed her skirt across the tender flesh of her lower belly, down her thighs, like he was trying to decide the fastest way to get the damn thing off her.
“Mercy,” she whispered, feeling helpless, needing him so badly she wanted to cry.
He hooked both hands behind her knees and lifted her legs up, pushed her skirt up, bundling it roughly, shoving it up to her hips. Then he passed his hands up and down her smooth, bare thighs, all the way up, to her hips, into the lace of her panties so he could palm her ass and squeeze. He was enjoying the feel of her, and the knowledge made her shiver.
“It’s been too long,” he murmured. “Too damn long…shit, I don’t have a condom…”
“I’m on the pill; I don’t care.”
He skimmed her panties down to her knees, calves, ripped them over her high heels. And then he was between her legs, stroking her, passing his hands up the insides of her thighs, sliding his fingers through the wetness at her sex.
“Mercy,please.”
She heard him get his jeans open, and then he pushed her knees up, leaned over her, sank inside her.
She’d forgotten, just a little, how large he was, and her breath caught a moment as he filled her. That little twinge of discomfort; that ungodly stretching. She felt that first slow stroke all the way up at the base of her throat, his contained power moving through her entire prone body.
And then she pulled in a deep breath that was more of a sob, because it had been five years, and he was inside her again. She had no grace for this moment. She was nothing but raw nerves and bleeding heart, and she didn’t ever want to let go of him.
When she caught his face in her hands and pulled him down, so their foreheads touched, he acquiesced with such gentleness. His warm breath feathered across her lips and his eyelashes flickered against hers and he held so still while she traced his jaw and cheekbones with her fingertips, holding him to her.
“Felix,” she murmured, desperate and terrified, a plea and a claim of ownership.
“I’m right here,” he said, voice the low, heavy purr she only heard now in her memories. “Hold on to me, baby.”
And then she felt the first great thrusting of his hips, and his face pulled away from her, and he braced a hand on the desk beside her head and reached under the small of her back with the other to draw her hips up tightly against his. She felt the tremors in him, the energy under his skin, the powerful muscles flexing and clenching.
And then she understood. Hold on to him, because even if he wanted to cradle her and take her gently, he just couldn’t. It had been five years, and she’d yelled at him, and this was too overwhelming. He needed to make a statement; he needed to fuck her. And she needed it, too.
He drove into her again and again, so deep, with such force the desk creaked in protest. Ava couldn’t breathe; she dug her nails into his forearms and prayed for it not to end, though she could already feel her climax coming, crashing through her like the storm that raged against the window.
She didn’t know if she screamed, or if it was the thunder, or the sirens; she thought she might have blacked out.
Mercy shuddered hard, and then dropped down over her, muttering nonsense into her neck between slow, open-mouthed kisses against her damp skin.
Her hands were like lead, but she lifted them to his shoulders, crept inward until she massaged the back of his neck. He was crushing her. His cock was still inside her and he had at least one more round in him. Ava wanted to lay like this forever, even if she couldn’t take a deep breath, even if there was a telephone cord digging into her spine. The thought of separating from him brought fresh tears to her eyes. Because once he pulled back, this moment would shatter, and they’d be back to square one, tense and hating one another.
Mercy pushed up on his hands, so his face hovered over hers. His eyes had that soft, post-coital liquid look to them, almost awestruck. “Break up with your boyfriend.”
Relaxed now, exhausted as the adrenaline drained away, Ava laughed. “Say what?”
He put his elbows on the desk and smoothed her hair back from her face with both hands, cradling her scalp like it was an eggshell he was afraid of breaking. He was still breathing hard, his chest pressing against hers, his t-shirt rubbing at her sensitized nipples. His face gleamed with a healthy sheen of perspiration. “Break up with your boyfriend. That’s not a request.”
She pushed at his shoulders but he wouldn’t budge. “It’s bad enough I just cheated on the poor guy. Now I’m supposed to drop him like a hot rock because you say so?”
There was no hostility, just words, the sense they were too raw for them not to mean anything.
“It doesn’t count as cheating if it’s with me.”
