Page 26 of Burning Rivalry

“But what I really want to know is…” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, leaving it on the table, and undid his belt. All the while, he held my gaze, forcing me to sink deeper under his spell. “Is this pussy as tight as I think it is?”

Again, I shivered in anticipation. Raising myself on my elbows, I watched, transfixed by the sight of him pulling his dick free from his boxer briefs. Holy fuck. Thick, with a wide head that oozed precum. Yes, my pussy would be tight when it came to getting fucked by something like that. The need was building in me again, hotter this time, all-consuming.

“What do you think?” He opened a foil packet and rolled the condom down to his base. “Should I try and find out?”

“You’d better,” I told him, holding my breath, trembling as he dragged his head through my slit, so thick and wide.

So, so good once he breached my entrance and sank inside.

My head fell back, all of my focus trained on the place where our bodies now met. He sank deeper, filling me, stretching me to my limit. All I could do was reach for him, my nails dragging across his skin, my body clenching around him. I locked my legs behind his ass, pulling him deeper, my body taking over and demanding what it wanted next.

With a dark, wicked chuckle, he took me by the hips and set his rhythm. “Tight…” he groaned, closing his eyes. “So fucking tight. So greedy. I can still feel you fluttering around me. You think you can give me another one?”

“Yes,” I moaned. It was inevitable. There was no other way this could end, not with him working my body the way he did—grinding against me, rubbing his base against my clit, massaging me inside with every deep, sure stroke.

“That’s good,” he grunted, slamming himself hard enough to make me yelp while the table inched across the floor. “Because I want you to come on me. I want you to come with me inside you. Are you going to do that for me?”

“Yes!” I sobbed, already halfway there, not sure if I wanted to go on forever or if I couldn’t wait for the explosion I knew was coming. “Yes!”

There were no more words after that. There was only sensation, ragged breathing, deep groans, my helpless moans drowning the rest of it out as he took me higher, further, with every sharp stroke. Faster, harder until there was nothing I could do but close my eyes and give myself over to him. To this.

“Yes, just like that… I’m coming… I’m… Sebastian!” A deep shudder ran through me when the tension broke. Oh, yes, that was good, that was perfect. Coming with him inside me, feeling every inch of him still moving, taking what I wanted so much to give.

But not for long since he picked up his pace, taking me hard, pounding me in the final moments before slamming deep one last time. I opened my eyes to find his eyes closed, the tendons standing out on his neck. Grunting through clenched teeth, he held himself in place for a few seconds, pulled out, and left me whimpering softly in the aftermath.

Holy shit. That just happened. In the kitchen. There was no way I could have imagined it being that explosive. Intense. It was like I had never been with a man until now. He was in a whole different league.

And it was not my league. Dammit. Why did the voice of reason have to sound off in my head at that particular moment? Couldn’t I at least come down from my orgasm before reality started trickling in?

Then he smiled and made things so much worse because I wanted to smile back. I wanted to sit up and let him hold me.

Instead, I did sit up, only it was to adjust my bra and look on the floor for my clothes. “I need to sanitize this table,” I murmured, unable to look at him for fear of what it would do to my heart.

“You can give yourself a second or two,” he pointed out, chuckling softly as he pulled himself together. “I would say you owe me a shirt, but I ruined it myself. I guess that’s what you do to me.”

I didn’t find it so funny. It was so easy for him to do this to me, wasn’t it? I barely offered any resistance at all. And now he had leverage over me because he knew I wanted him. He had to know I would want this again, more than ever now that I knew how good it could be.

It meant being weak, leaving myself open to being hurt by him. I told myself it would never happen again, goddammit.

“I’m sorry about that,” I managed, my throat tight. I would never be able to use this table now without thinking about what we had done. Stupid Claudia.

“Hey. There’s no fire. You don’t have to rush around,” he reminded me with a laugh in his voice. When all I did was slide into my flats and head for the cleaning products, he stopped me, holding me in place when he took me by the hips from behind. “Claudia, come on. It doesn’t have to be like this.”

His lips brushed against my neck, and dear God, I wanted to lean against him. I wanted him again.

“Don’t you see? That’s why I can’t do this.” I forced myself to ignore the way his kiss made me shiver. I had to. One of us had to be smart, and it was the one of us who had the most to lose. “I got fucked over back home. I don’t want that to happen again.”

“Who says it would?”

“Nobody starts off to fuck somebody over. At least, I hope not.” I finally managed to extricate myself from his grasp, turning in time to observe his crestfallen expression. It only made things worse. More difficult.

“You have a funny way of standing on your principles when you’ve already gotten what you wanted.” He folded his arms over his open shirt, his eyes narrowing. “You can’t take it back now. You can’t pretend it didn’t happen or that you didn’t want it just as much as I did.”

“I wasn’t trying to pretend. I’m not going to lie. But that doesn’t mean⁠—”

“I know what it means. You can spare me.” Holding up a hand, he backed away, repositioning the table, and heaved a heavy sigh of frustration. “I’ll help you clean up.”

“You don’t have to.” Because I only thought I knew what torture was while fighting to keep away from him. This was true torture, having to face him in the aftermath.