Reasonable Doubt: Volume 2 (Reasonable Doubt #2)(6)

I slowly parted my lips, and he narrowed his eyes as he slid his finger against my tongue. I felt his c**k rub against my thigh, felt him using his other hand to wrap my leg around his waist.

“Tell me that you don’t want to f**k me,” he said. “That you don’t want me to bury my c**k deep inside of you right now.”

He grabbed my face and pressed his lips against mine, drawing my bottom lip into his mouth with his teeth.

I was sliding off the edge of the counter, about to fall, but he suddenly pressed me back against the mirror.

I kept my eyes locked on his as he unwrapped a condom, as he put it on and stared at me with that same angry expression he’d been wearing all night.

He grabbed me by my ankles and pulled me forward, sliding his c**k into me as my legs gripped his waist.

My hands clawed at his neck as he pounded into me again and again.

“I’ve missed f**king you,” he rasped, threading his fingers into my hair and pulling my head back. “But you haven’t thought about me at all?”

“Ahhh!” I screamed as he sped up his thrusts. I squeezed my legs around him even tighter, trying my best not to give in.

I shut my eyes and heard him saying my name—panting, “Fuck, Aubrey...Fuck...”

“Put your hands on the counter...” he commanded, but I ignored him and tightened my grip around his neck.

“Aubrey...” He bit my shoulder again, still f**king me harder than ever. “Put your hands on the counter. Now.”

I slowly unclasped my hands from around him and lowered them to my sides—gripping onto the cold counter. The next thing I felt was his tongue swirling around my ni**les, roughly sucking my br**sts.

I gripped the tile harder as his kisses became more ravenous—more possessive, and as he f**ked me harder and harder I felt myself on the verge of losing control.

“Andrew....” I moaned. “Andrew....”

He released my nipple from his mouth and slid his hands underneath my thighs, picking me up and pinning my back against the wall.

“I know you love the way I f**k you, Aubrey...” He looked into my eyes, forcing his c**k even deeper into my pu**y. “And I know you’ve touched yourself every night this week, wishing it was my c**k inside of you instead of your fingers.”

My clit throbbed with his every word, and I was wetter than I’d ever been in my life.

“Tell me it’s true...” He pressed his lips against mine and slipped his tongue into my mouth—muffling my moans with an angry, unrelenting kiss. “Finally tell me something that’s f**king true...”

Tremors traveled up and down my spine, and I was seconds away from coming, but he wouldn’t let my mouth go.

He was still kissing me—glaring at me, begging me to tell him the truth.

I nodded, hoping that he could read my eyes and see that I needed him to let go of me, I needed to be able to breathe.

He slammed into me one last time—hitting my spot, and I managed to tear my mouth away from his.

“Yessssss!” My head fell forward into his shoulder and I gasped for air.

“Aubrey...” He gripped my waist until he stopped shaking.

As we both came back down, there were few random knocks at the door, a few “Is anybody in there?” taps, but both us remained silent and breathless.

Minutes later, when his breathing seemed to be under control, he pulled out of me—staring into my eyes. He tossed the condom away in the trashcan behind him and pulled up his pants.

I watched as he fixed himself in the mirror, as he smoothed everything so well that no one would ever know that he just f**ked the shit out of me.

I slid off the sink and looked at my own face—flushed cheeks, wild hair, runny mascara—and pulled my bra straps back over my shoulder. Before I could pull up my dress straps, Andrew moved my hand away and pulled them up for me.

Our eyes met in the mirror as he smoothed my hair, and for a split second he turned away—to pick up my headband. He gently held it over my head and slid it into place, and then he walked away.

“You know, it’s rude to just leave someone after sex without saying anything,” I muttered.

“What?” His hand was on the doorknob.

“Nothing.”

“What did you say?” He cocked his head to the side. “I’m not a mind reader.”

“I said it’s rude to just leave after you f**k me. You could at least say something, anything.”

“I don’t do pillow talk.”

“It’s not pillow talk.” I scoffed. “It’s part of being a gentleman.”

“I never said I was a gentleman.”

I sighed and turned around. I waited to hear the door close, but his hands were suddenly on my waist and he was spinning me around to face him.

“What am I supposed to say after I f**k you, Aubrey?”

“You could ask if it was good for me or not...”

“I don’t believe in asking pointless questions.” He looked at his watch. “How long do you have to stay here?”

“Another hour or so.”

“Hmmm.” He was quiet. “And while you were stalking me and my date how many shots did you have?”

“I wasn’t stalking you and your date. I’ve been avoiding you all week, or haven’t you noticed?”