But then Freddie’s lips are on mine, and all rational thought flies out the window.
The kiss is electric, sending sparks through my entire body. It’s everything I’ve been dreaming of for months, everything I’ve been trying to convince myself I don’t want.
When we break apart, we’re both breathing heavily. Freddie’s looking at me with a mix of desire and confusion that I’m sure is mirrored on my own face.
“Alex,” he starts, his voice husky. “I?—”
“Don’t,” I cut him off. “Don’t say anything.”
Because I know what he’ll say. That this is a mistake, that we should just be friends, that he’s not looking for anything serious. And right now, with my body humming from his touch and my heart threatening to beat out of my chest, I can’t bear to hear it.
Instead, I grab his hand and pull him to the supply closet. It’s cramped and dark and smells faintly of cleaning products, but I don’t care. All I care about is Freddie’s hands on my waist, his lips on my neck.
As he presses me against the wall, as his hands roam my body with a desperation that matches my own, I know I’m playing with fire. I know that tomorrow, when the heat of the moment has passed, I’ll have to face the reality of my feelings for a man who doesn’t want to be tied down.
Freddie’s lips trail down my neck, and I bite back a moan, acutely aware of how thin the closet walls are. His hands slip under my shirt, calloused fingers tracing patterns on my skin that make me shiver.
“Are you sure about this?” he whispers against my collarbone.
Am I sure? No. I’m not sure about anything when it comes to Freddie. But I’m sure about how I feel right now, how much I want this.
“Yes, I liked it when you told me what to do before,” I breathe, pulling him closer.
“You like that?” His eyes gleam, and I nod. His hand cups my cheek, and his thumb rubs over my lower lip.
Our clothes come off in a frantic rush, hands fumbling with buttons and zippers in the dim light.
Suddenly, a loud crash echoes through the closet. We freeze, hearts pounding.
“What was that?” I whisper, panic rising in my chest.
Freddie reaches behind him, fumbling in the dark. “I think I knocked over a mop bucket,” he says, stifling a laugh.
I can’t help it—I start giggling. The absurdity of the situation hits me all at once. Here we are, half-naked in a supply closet, scared by a mop bucket.
My giggle is cut short as Freddie’s hand wraps around the nape of my neck, gentle but firm. His eyes meet mine in the dim light, dark with intent.
“Quiet,” he whispers against my ear. “Unless you want the whole building to hear what I’m about to do to you.”
Heat pools low in my stomach at his words. His other hand slides down my body, claiming every inch. When he presses me against the wall, I wrap my legs around his waist instinctively.
“Good girl, Lexie,” he murmurs, nipping at my neck. The praise sends shivers through me.
His large cock enters me slowly, deliberately, making me feel every inch. My head falls back against the wall as he fills me completely. The angle is perfect, deep, almost too much. He holds me up easily with one arm under my ass and the other on my back.
“Look at me,” he commands softly. When I meet his eyes, he starts to move. Each thrust is controlled, purposeful, like he’s trying to ruin me for anyone else.
I bite my lip to keep quiet, but Freddie’s hand covers my mouth anyway. “Can’t have you screaming my name,” he breathes against my ear. “No matter how badly I want to hear it.”
The small space makes everything more intense—the heat of his skin, the sound of our breathing, the way he feels inside me. When his free hand finds the wetness between my legs, I whimper against his palm.
“That’s it,” he encourages, his movements becoming more urgent. “You’re so wet for me, Lexie. You’ve gotta come quick, okay? Before we get caught.”
The urgency of our situation only heightens everything. He presses me harder against the wall, going deeper, and I clutch his shoulders as pleasure builds. His mouth finds my neck, kissing, claiming.
His movements become more urgent, more intense. My body is wound up so tight, ready to explode. When his thumb circles just right, stars explode behind my eyes.
When I come, it’s with Freddie’s hand over my mouth, muffling my cries of pleasure. He follows right after, burying his face in my neck to stifle his groan.
