He bends over, his hands cupping my hips, then my waist, then sliding up to grab my tits. He squeezes hard, the pain shooting all the way down to my cunt, making me even wetter, making my muscles clench ever tighter around him as he pounds inside me.
His cock fills me, his balls slapping hard against my ass as he fucks me from behind, harder and harder, riding me until I want to scream from pain and pleasure and the wild, frantic need for release.
I taste blood and realize that I’m biting my lower lip in an effort to stay quiet. I haven’t made a sound, but I have moved. My hand has slid down, brushing the thin cotton of my floral print skirt, easing it up slowly until I have to clutch tight to the material in defense against the overpowering urge to ease the garment all the way up.
I’m breathing hard, lost in my fantasies. I’m so wet now, and all I can think about is sliding my fingers under my panties and fingering myself.
I want to imagine it’s Dallas touching me. Dallas wanting me.
Me, goddammit. Not some tattooed bitch he grabbed as a prop and who now thinks she’s got a claim on him.
A warm hand falls on my shoulder and I jump, my cry stifled by the hand that is suddenly pressed over my mouth.
“Don’t startle them.” It’s Dallas, of course. His voice low, his lips so close to my ear that his breath makes me shiver. “They haven’t seen you. We wouldn’t want to interrupt the moment.”
I swallow, understanding that he doesn’t mean their moment, but ours.
His hand slides over my rear, cupping my ass through my thin skirt. Slowly, he starts to inch the material up, mimicking what I’d been on the verge of doing only moments before.
“Dallas,” I murmur, my voice whisper-soft. “The door—”
“Is closed.” He fists his hand around the thin strap of my thong panties, then yanks them off, forcing me to swallow a gasp in order to keep our secret. “Do you think I want anyone else to see this?” He lifts the back of my skirt up all the way and tucks it into the waistband, completely exposing my ass. “Do you think I want to share such an incredible view?”
I close my eyes, overwhelmed by the rough passion in his voice. In front of us, the couple has shifted. Now she is on her back and he is on his knees beside the bed. He’s removed his shirt, and her legs are over his shoulders. Her thighs are pressed to either side of his head, and her hips are writhing as he eats her out. No way can this guy hear a thing that we do. And the woman is too lost in the sound of her own moans to notice us at all.
“Does it turn you on to watch?” Dallas slides one hand between my legs as he asks the question. “I guess it does,” he continues, slipping a finger inside me. “Fuck, you’re wet.”
“That’s not from them,” I protest. “It’s from you.”
He bites the edge of my ear. “Bullshit,” he says, adding another finger and thrusting hard. “It’s all of it. Watching them. Me touching you. Knowing that at any moment we might be discovered. I closed the door, Jane. But did I lock it?”
“Dallas …” His name is a moan, because he’s right. I’m completely and totally turned on by everything. Excitement. Fear. Danger. And, yes, I know that he locked the door—I trust him too much to believe otherwise—but that doesn’t mean that the fantasy of getting caught doesn’t excite me more than it should.
“Tell me,” he demands. “Tell me how fucked up this is.”
“You know it is.”
“Tell me you like it.”
My body shudders as he teases my clit. “You know I do.” And so help me, it’s true. Being like this with him sets me on fire. I don’t know why—as a rule, I’m all about control, and right now I’m most definitely not in control of anything, myself included.
Maybe that should bother me, but it doesn’t. Right now my mind is too sex-blurred to even try to think analytically. I only know need. I only understand want.
I only crave him.
“Dallas,” I murmur, grateful that I have at least enough self-awareness left to keep my voice down. “Please.”
“Jane.” His voice beside my ear is an incantation, taking all of my senses to the next level. “Do you have any idea how much I’ve craved you tonight. How much I’ve wanted you?”
“Have you?” I retort, and though I’d meant for the words to be soft—a tease—I know that he has heard the hint of genuine uncertainty in my voice. I can feel the way his body tightens, and he hesitates, the gap in motion almost imperceptible. But not to me; I know him too well.
“Oh, baby. Don’t you know that I have?”
“Dallas, I—”
“Shhh. Let me show you. Let me prove it to you. Let me make you explode.” He slides his fingers back, stroking my perineum until he reaches my ass. His hand is slick with me, and I gasp as he slides his thumb deep inside me, then eases his fingers forward again until he slips his forefinger in my vagina, effectively finger-fucking me both ways.
I close my eyes, lost in pleasure, then reach out with my left hand and grab the wall to support myself as I push back against his hand, forcing him in harder. Deeper. Wanting everything he is willing to give, and then more.