Page 193 of A Taste of Vanilla

“You have no idea what you do to me.”

She stills, searching my eyes. “Show me.”

I kiss her. It’s messy, deep, and far past careful.

Her hand grips me, stroking me as my tongue tangles with hers and my fingers grip the hair at the base of her skull.

I can’t take it anymore.

“Condom,” I moan against her mouth.

She nods, breathless. “Wallet?”

I nod.

She reaches into my back pocket, pulling out my wallet and taking the condom out. When she hands it to me, I tear it open and roll it on, my body hot under her gaze. When I finish, her legs hook around my hips.

I step in, the head of my cock sliding against her.

She’s wet and swollen from my mouth, so slick I have to grit my teeth to stop myself from entering too fast. Her hands grip my shoulders, her forehead pressing against mine.

“Tell me what you want when you want it, Hal.”

“Okay.” She nods, her forehead pressing against mine.

“If you want slower, tell me.”

“Please don’t think I’m fragile.”

“If you want harder, tell me that too.”

She smiles. “I’ll scream it.”

I push into her slowly, and her mouth opens against mine.

Every inch is brutal.

Her cunt is tight and hot, still fluttering from the orgasm I gave her moments ago, and the angle of the counter makes her feel different than the bed did. Higher and deeper. Her legs tighten around me, and the piercing drags exactly where it made her lose her words the first time.

She gasps.

I stop halfway.

Her nails dig into my shoulders. “Don’t stop.”

“Good?”

“Good. More.”

I give her more slowly, because the alternative is taking too much too fast.

When I’m fully inside of her, I stop again. Not because I want to, but because I have to.

Because being inside Halston in the bakery, under the dim lights, with her arms around me and her breath in my ear, does something to me that sex alone has never done.

I feel placed.

Like I belong here.