Sinful Longing

“This is what, Elle?” he asked, his voice a sexy taunt, urging her on.

“Intense,” she said on an exhale, as he filled her so deliriously she nearly screamed. She was vaguely aware that there could be people nearby—workers, waiters, bartenders—and she somehow found the will not to sing and shout her pleasure to the stars. But she felt it. The intensity thrummed in her bones, sizzled across her skin. “Incredible. It’s so incredible,” she said on a moan, as he thrust into her.

Then, because he was a fucking expert, because he’d studied all the shortcuts to her pleasure, he looped his fingers in her hair and pulled hard, exposing her throat to him. That was like an electric burst of ecstasy.

“Fucking you is the best,” he said, layering kisses onto her skin. “You get so wet, and I love how it feels to slide into you over and over.”

“Tell me how it makes you feel,” she said, losing touch with the earth as he talked to her, his dirty words sending her into a tailspin. The way he spoke to her was such an insane turn on, and she was already aroused beyond her own comprehension. He kissed the hollow of her throat and drove his cock deep into her.

“It’s fucking extraordinary. Being inside you is extraordinary. And I love it when you come on me.” He slid a finger between her legs, brushed it lightly against her clit, and her lips parted, forming an O. A silent, glorious O, containing all the pleasure in the universe. He’d flipped that switch, pushing her from chasing an orgasm to falling apart in his arms. She shuddered, pleasure wracking her cells, racing through her to flood every corner.

Helpless to stay quiet, she felt her silent cry turn to an audible moan as she shouted the beginning of his name. He clamped a hand over her mouth, covering her noises as he thrust up into her like a mad man on a frenzied ride, desperate to follow her to the other side. He fucked her as aftershocks rippled through her, the sensation spreading to her fingers and toes.

As her moans subsided, he dropped his hand from her mouth and gripped her waist. She opened her eyes, watching him, loving the way he looked when he came. Nothing was sexier, nothing was hotter than watching the man she wanted lose control.

All for her.

She didn’t understand why, but somehow she was his undoing.

And he was hers.

He fucked her into his own release, his eyes squeezed shut and his face contorted in pleasure. He grunted, and groaned her name before biting her collarbone, holding in all his sounds, too, as he came.

“We can’t stop,” she whispered, voicing the most dangerous words. Words she shouldn’t say. But her body had the reins, making decisions for her, seeking more bliss.

“We can’t and we shouldn’t,” he murmured, layering soft kisses on her neck.

Soon, as they came down from their high and her senses reattuned to the world around her, the tinkling of glasses reached her ears. The after party was starting…

Which meant.

She was about to become a pumpkin.

From inside her clutch purse, the alarm sounded on her phone.

“I have to go. My mom has a shift at eleven. I told her I’d be home by ten-thirty.”

“I’ll walk you to your car,” he said.

In the parking garage, he cupped her cheek gently, pressed his lips to hers, and gave her a sweet good-bye kiss that would linger on the whole way home.

He whispered, “Go.”

In three minutes, she was on the road, rushing to return home to her son.





CHAPTER FIVE


Her mother’s head was bent over the kitchen counter, her fingers swiping in a wild blur across her phone screen.

“Gotcha, flesh-eater!”

“Saving the world, Mom?” Elle asked, as she closed the front door to her apartment.

“Somebody has to fend off the infected,” her mom said with a final slide before she looked up and closed the game.

Elle laughed. “I thought you were giving it up. You said it was giving you video game thumb or something.”

Her mother shook her head, her bouncy ponytail swinging with her. “I tried. Oh lord, you know I tried. But your son… He plays a mean game of Dying Light, and he challenged me. I can’t back down.”

“You’re going to need to work on State of Decay next. Alex and his buddies are moving on in the apocalypse gaming world,” Elle said, dropping her keys on the counter and giving her mom a peck on the cheek. Her mother wore green scrubs with Snoopys and Woodstocks on them. “How was he tonight?”

“Fine. Just fine. I plied him with pizza and schooled him with my survival skills.”

“No easier way to the heart of a fourteen-year-old boy, is there?” While there was plenty of truth in her statement, for her son, video games weren’t just the snack-food-and-candy path to winning his teenage heart—they were essential to his emotional survival. They were the difference between him talking and not talking.