Lovely Trigger(29)

I shivered involuntarily.

He moved in closer behind me, that wandering hand going to my waist, gripping. I could feel the heat of his palms, one on the skin of my shoulder, the other through my clothes. The contrast of the touches made me catch my breath.

A sensitive muscle very low in my belly began to quiver.

He moved closer by infinitesimal degrees, until I felt him leaning over me, head tipped forward. I thought he must be staring at my features, gauging my reactions.

“What are you doing?” I asked him in a shaky voice.

“You said you didn’t want to have our conversation here. I’m improvising.”

I shook my head slightly, then froze as, gently but firmly, the hand at my waist moved up and held my breast. His palm slid softly over the already hardened peak.

“This is not the place for that, either,” I whispered furiously.

But I didn’t move away.

His other hand moved from its scorching grip on my shoulder, covering my right hand, which was clenched into a fist on the table in front of me.

He lifted it, pried it open until he could fit his thumb against my palm, and started to rub. His touch was so soothing, so fundamentally pleasurable, that my hand fell open like he’d unlocked it with a key.

And that was when he knew he had me.

He continued to fondle me while he straightened my arm, then pulled it behind my back, palm twisted to face him. Without a word, he pulled it to the front of his pants. Slowly, leisurely, he rubbed himself into my palm, stroking himself with our connected hands. Up, down, up, down, each stroke taking its sweet time along his broad length.

My lips were trembling, my body shaking, every single muscle in my belly tight with anticipation.

I felt like all of the nerves inside of me were about to shatter. And I wanted it.

How was it so easy to fall into this old pattern, of all things?

Still stroking my breast and his cock with our combined efforts, he whispered into my ear. “If you say no now, I will stop. But I can’t make any guarantees for after. Now is the cutoff for no.”

I shuddered. After everything, the rise and the fall of us, the pain and the aftermath, why did his touch still bring such comfort? How could it unearth such a sense of security?

I made my mind into a temporary ally with my want, my desire, yet again, and took the plunge.

I felt so out of control that I didn’t even care what happened after.

It was madness.

And yet, completely necessary.

“Yes or no. I want to hear it.”

My eyes fell closed and I gripped him harder. “Yes.”

His breath shuddered out harshly, and he fumbled at his pants, working them open.

I gripped and started stroking as soon as he spilled, bare and hard, into my open palm.

I felt him working my skirt up, his other fingers plucking firmly at my nipple through two layers of fabric that I would have liked to make disappear just then. But there was no time for undressing, not here.

This was a direct access; get at it as fast as you can kind of f*ck. And yes, it had a name. Thanks to the devastating power of our history together, nearly every damn thing did.

The hand in my skirt lifted it high, and he fit himself behind me, his swollen flesh pressing hard into my thigh.

He pushed the heel of his hand against the throbbing nub of my clit. It pulsed against him like a heartbeat.

“Oh,” I cried out before I could stop myself.

The hand on my breast moved up to cover my mouth. I mewled softly into it while he rubbed at my needy flesh.

“Shh, sweetheart,” he rasped in a hushed voice. “I don’t know if you’ve forgotten where we are, but this is not the place to make a lot of noise.”

I shook my head, my body shaking, throbbing with unfulfilled need as he shoved my panties to the side and rubbed the thick head of his cock slowly along my wet entrance.

His mouth moved to the sensitive tendon between my neck and shoulder, biting down gently, he plunged in hard.

I bit his hand (not gently) as he started to f*ck me in earnest.

I had to brace both hands on the table in front of me. It wasn’t all that sturdy; it began to shake, clanging into the wall with each movement.

I didn’t give a damn.

A few delicate fans fell off, and still I couldn’t make myself stop, even knowing I’d be sorry later.

That was the all-encompassing, undeniable control he had over my body, the absolute power.

The power to make me forget, and to make me let go.

He stretched me, my flesh clenched around him. He surged in and out of me, filling me, taking all of the emptiness away for that brief respite.

I throbbed in time to his steady rhythm. As ever, he played my body to his beat. Who else? It had been tuned for his hands alone. The years apart had only illustrated that fact even further.

In huge glowing neon letters.

His mouth stayed on my neck, licking, sucking, his free hand digging into my hip, anchoring me for his relentless thrusts.

The pressure inside of me built with each sure thrust, until I was biting so hard at his hand that he pulled it away.

I tensed as I felt the wave coming, muscles drawn tight as he continued to pound into me. I bit back a cry as my entire body began to convulse.

I broke, shuddering, clenching, wave upon wave of pleasure washing over me, crashing relentlessly, again and again.

Like it was rinsing me clean.