Sweet Ache

He slips his other hand off my back and I stand there, shoulders against the wall, pelvis thrust forward, skirt askew, and body humming. My eyes flash open to catch his, their gray color burning black, lids heavy with desire. “I told myself I could wait until after class”—I hear the telltale rip of foil, my eyes widening with the sound because that means I’m getting more than just fingers … I’m getting all of him—“but I can’t.” He says the last words with a pained restraint before glancing down to jacket himself. “I just can’t.”

His mouth is on mine again as his fingers grip my hips and direct me to the side until my ass hits a small console behind me. I cry out, having forgotten it was there in the darkness, and then acquiesce to his physical commands as he helps lift me up on the shallow top of it. The cabinet is so narrow that my backside sits halfway off it, so I lean my back against the wall, thighs framing his muscular torso and hands gripping the edge as he lines his dick up to my entrance.

He teases me with his head, slowly pushing into me and then withdrawing several times. I groan out in frustration, my body amped up on the thought of him fucking me senseless. He kisses me again, demanding and possessive. “Quin … I have to have you,” he moans as his hands grip my thighs, pulling them apart at the same time he thrusts all the way into me.

My cry of ecstasy drowns out his groan of pleasure as my body welcomes the girth of his dick slamming into me, nerves singing, body stretching, endorphins surging. I’m writhing against him in jerking movements, my backside half off the console adding to the depth he can reach with my weight bearing down some on where our bodies meet.

“Easy, Q,” he says, his voice gravelly as it scrapes over my eardrums, his obvious pleasure a turn-on. I glance down to where his dick is slowly pulling out of me. My arousal glistens against the faint light at his back and it’s sexy as hell to see the evidence of what he does to me, what he makes me want more and more.

I look back up to the salacious look in his eyes and know he’s turned on by the fact that I like to watch him slide in and out of me. We hold each other’s gaze as he moves slowly back in and it’s like one big chain reaction of electricity from my core out to my fingers and toes with every movement of his.

Fixated on the eroticism of the moment, I glance back down to watch us. I’m so turned on by everything—the man before me, the idea of being here and doing this when we shouldn’t be, the pleasure he’s most definitely bringing me—that I purposefully squeeze my muscles around his dick when he begins to withdraw so that the wide crest of his head has trouble pulling all the way out.

I love the groan he emits and the way his head falls back at the sensation, giving me a glimpse of his strong jaw and Adam’s apple before looking back up and straight into my eyes. “Keep doing that sweetness and I’m going to come quick and hard.”

Wanting to watch him, I fight the urge to close my own eyes as I’m swamped with the sensation of him bottoming out inside me and holding there in a silent dare. “Quick and hard?” I whisper, leaning forward, muscles contracting again with the movement. “Yes, please.”

His eyebrows arch and a libidinous smirk curls up one corner of his mouth. “Fuck …” He moans the word out as desire and my comment snap the restraint he was barely holding on to. “Hold tight, Q.”

And the minute the words are out of his mouth he begins to move at a demanding pace, the cabinet hitting smartly into the wall behind me with each thrust. The small space fills with the hushed sounds of our desire, the slap of skin on skin, and the console rattling from the force. My hands grip the edge for support as I open my eyes to see his face pulled tight with pleasure, eyes closed, shoulders tense.

He obliterates everything else so that I can focus only on him, on this, and the way he’s manipulating my body. All three pull me under the frenzied state of bliss so that I’m almost drugged when my orgasm hits me in an earthquake of sensation that reverberates through me and then comes back to slam into its epicenter once more.

I manage a broken cry of pleasure before suppressing it when I realize where we are. And it’s almost as if the minute my sex starts contracting around him, when he knows I’ve had mine, Hawkin sets a punishing pace for himself to chase his own climax.

He’s sexy as hell when he comes, head thrown back, fingers unknowingly bruising the tender flesh of my thighs to match the marks he left there this weekend, and he releases a feral groan that resonates in my ears and scores my memory.

He rests his head on my shoulder as we both catch our breath. “Class,” he murmurs as a reminder to himself where we are before lifting his head and pressing a chaste kiss to my lips as he slips out of me. “Holy shit, you’re incredible.”

He shakes his head before glancing down to remove the condom and clean himself up, while my ego and emotions soar from his compliment. I slowly dismount the console, testing the stability of my legs since he’s just rocked my world.

He zips up and looks at me watching him. “That was right up there with cookies ’n cream,” he says with a raise of his eyebrows and a flash of a grin. I laugh that this was as good to him as his beloved ice cream. “Take your time; I’ve got to act like we weren’t just in here doing …” He just shakes his head, his sudden shyness adorable in so many ways.

“Oh, I brought you something,” I tell him when suddenly the irony of it hits me and causes me to smile. “It’s in the front part of my backpack.”