“So warm,” he whispers hoarsely. “Just like this.” He draws out slightly and drives back inside, pushing me harder against the glass. Every single nerve is a live wire singing, and my heart is beating so fast I’m afraid it might shatter me and the glass.
He comes at me again, arching his hips up, his cock so thick and rigid, filling me to the brim. I can feel his ass flex against my legs as he pounds deeper and deeper in intense, animalistic thrusts. His mouth is hungry, wanting, as it devours my neck, and I feel so wonderfully desired, taken, needed.
Lachlan is just a pure fucking machine, made to fuck, to come, to deliver me into star-bursting ecstasy. He’s merciless in his lust, and I surrender every part of me. I’ve never felt like so much of a woman before, with so much of a man.
“How do I feel?” he asks, breath ragged, before he grunts with another long, hard thrust, and I’m forced to moan in kind.
“Unbelievable,” I tell him. “I need more.”
His hand slips to my clit and he presses his thumb there, rubbing with each thrust. “And now?” He pulls his head back to stare at me, his eyes flashing with every upward pump of his cock. “How does your sweet little cunt feel now?”
Dear god. Just his words, those dirty fucking words in that rough accent from that wet full mouth, is more than I can handle. I grab him tighter as my back hits the glass again and again. Each strike brings fear of breaking through, of falling to my death, while each thrust brings me closer and closer to pure fucking bliss.
“Look at me,” he commands, voice raspy and broken. I open my eyes—I hadn’t even realized I shut them—and meet his, inches away from mine. “I could watch you come all day,” he says.
I bite my lip, swallowing a groan as his cock drives me closer to the edge. “And I could come all day, if you’re ever game for that.”
“You’re fantastic,” he murmurs, kissing me quickly, hot, wet, and sweet, his tongue teasing the seam of my mouth. “So bloody fantastic.”
Something changes in his eyes, like a switch being flipped, and they look almost menacing in their desire for me. His pace quickens, his hips like pistons, firing again and again, my whole body slamming against the glass until I’m gasping, but I don’t know if it’s from fear or from pleasure. Maybe they’re the same thing right now because being with him, having his cock barreling into me, is as scary as it is amazing. Because the feelings that he’s stirring, the threats of hedonistic pleasure, have the power to take over my life.
He’s making me crazy. I’m insane for him, every single inch, from the line between his brows to his thick length inside me, and I don’t even know who I am anymore. I’m just here, being fucked hard against a thin pane of glass, high above San Francisco, holding onto a man that will eventually have to leave.
My orgasm sneaks up on me. I feel it generate from my core, spreading outward like a supernova, gaining speed in waves and waves and waves of stardust until it lets go, thundering in aftershocks. I yell nonsense, holding him tight, breaking away from his eyes because it’s too much for me to see. I can’t even contain it. I ride it, muscles jerking, body a ragdoll gone rogue.
He comes with hoarse grunts and powerful thrusts like he’s actually going to fuck me out of the window, but it’s okay because I’m already falling and falling and falling.
I collapse into his arms, not even able to keep my head up. Every part of me is both soft and translucent and shaking from the strain.
He grabs my waist and pulls me off the glass, spinning me around and laying me on top of the bed. He climbs in beside me, hooking one of his large, long legs around mine, pulling me an inch closer so my face is nestled into the crook of his arm.
I regain my ability to breathe, in and out, trying to come back down to earth, while he trails his fingers over my hair, from crown to shoulder, over and over, this softness, this gentleness that nearly lures me into sleep.
I open my eyes and look at him. His head is propped up on his hand and he’s looking me over with a heavy, sated expression. Everything about him in this one moment is soft and diffused. Even the lines on his forehead and the hardness in his eyes have been worn away to a smooth slab.
He clears his throat. “Do you think anyone saw?” he asks gently.
I swallow, my mouth parched, everything in me so exhausted. “I hope so. We would have given them quite the show. Or the scare. I thought I was going to go over the edge.”
“I would have gone right with you,” he says gently, running his thumb over my lip. I gently kiss it then close my eyes. The world is still spinning, but it’s beautiful.
It isn’t long until one of the dogs whines from the other room. I snap my eyes open and see Lachlan smiling at me happily. “Well,” he says, moving to get up. “At least they let me fuck you like that.”
I can’t help but grin at him and watch his ass as he strolls—nude, large, and in charge, into the other room. I fight the urge to run after him and take a bite of his ass, like an apple, and instead use the bathroom.
Once inside, I look in the mirror and barely recognize the girl staring back at me. My lips are red and puffy, my face and chest are pink from orgasm. My eyes are large, wet pools, and my hair is an absolute wreck. I look like I’ve had a few good days of nonstop fucking and that thought alone makes me wonder what I’d look like then.
When I walk out of the bathroom, I’m not really sure what to do. Do I go home? Stay the night? At least stay a bit longer? But Lachlan is at the door, already fully dressed with the dogs on leashes.
“Come on,” he says. “Let’s go for a walk.”
I’m totally naked still. I eye the silky dress on the floor. My heels are in the bedroom. They’re clothes for getting fucked in, not for taking dogs for a walk.
He’s smiling at me, amused, as I quickly slip my dress over my head then head back into his room to retrieve my heels. I slide them on, and when I come out of the room, he’s holding a black leather moto jacket out for me. It’s huge and looks like he’s had it for decades.
“To keep you warm,” he says as he puts it over my shoulders. He eyes me up and down, admiring the look. He nods and makes an agreeable noise. I pull it close around me and breathe in deep. The jacket is a relic, but it smells amazing, like him.
Though the little dog, Emily, is still looking at me like I’m public enemy number one, we get the dogs into the elevator and walk toward the waterfront. I’m amazed at how well they are behaving with him, walking on a leash like its second nature. It seems unlikely that he can’t train them.
My mind wants to focus on what he said earlier: behavioral problems. But I push the thought away. Even if it’s true, the fact that Lachlan has issues doesn’t scare me at all. In fact, it’s pretty obvious, just from looking into his eyes, that there are some demons deep inside of him. My only problem is the need to find out. My damn curiosity. If he’s broken, how and why? Because he was put in an orphanage? I can only imagine growing up like that would provide you with a lifetime of personal demons.
“So,” Lachlan drawls out in his thick brogue as we sit down on a bench, the Bay Bridge nearly over us. “I was wondering…how would you like to come away with me on Friday and Saturday night?”
My heart does a flip. “But I thought you leave on Sunday?”
“Aye, I do,” he says, twisting the ends of the leash over and over again in his hands. “It’s…last minute.”
“Where would we go?”
“Napa Valley,” he says, stealing a glance at me. “Bram invited us.”
“Us?” I repeat.
He nods once. “Yes. One last hurrah or something like that. He and Nicola. Linden and Steph. And…you and me.” He pauses. “I haven’t told him yes or no. I wanted to ask you first. I know that we don’t know each other well and that going away on a trip can be a minefield for relationships. As if relationships aren’t minefields by themselves.” He looks away and smiles bitterly at some memory, his face shadowed in the streetlights. “I also know that this…” He gestures with his finger between us, “…is different.”