Page 47 of Into Pitch

Then he flips us so quickly I yelp out, my back connecting with the wood as his hands slide to frame either side of me. If my heart was beating before, it’s jackhammering now as I drop my head back to look up to him.

“Feel the way I’ve crawled inside of you?” he whispers, mouth dipping to my ear. “The way I’ve infected every thought and desire.”

“Stop,” I rasp.

“No,” he growls, his fingers tightening on the bar top. “You want me to leave, then you say it like you mean it.”

“Alex.”

“Those aren’t the words you’re looking for. Though I do like hearing my name come off your lips so breathless.” He whispers, his mouth dragging the shell of my ear.

“You don’t get to win,” I whimper, more of a plea than anything.

“You no longer have a say in that, so stop pretending.” His hand lashes out to capture my jaw and my eyes blow wide as his mouth angles over my own.

And I hate myself for it, but I surge back up into him. There is nothing gentle or sweet about the way he kisses me. It’s a collision of mouths clashing together with all the rage and want we’ve been circling for weeks. My hands fist in his coat as if I might tear it apart, as if holding him is the only thing keeping me upright.

And the world narrows to heat and the terrible, undeniable knowledge that I’ve crossed a line I can never uncross.

Chapter twenty

Chapter 20

We stumble up the stairs into her bus, my hand yanking the door shut behind me as I follow after her. How we got out of the bar to here so quickly, I’m not sure, but I don’t care. Not as long as she keeps kissing me like I’m both her salvation and damnation.

My arm bands around the low of her back, lifting her off her own feet the moment we are on equal ground. Her small frame molding to my front as my hand sweeps out to clear the table top. Her breathless laugh lost in the chaos as I drop her to the table, her hands reaching for my belt eagerly.

Tsking, I shove them away and pin them to the table beside her.

“You don’t get to touch until I say,” I growl against her mouth. She scoffs, but when I release her wrists she doesn’t reach for me again, spurring a groan of satisfaction from me. Sliding my hands forward, I wrap my fingers around the fabric of her jean shorts and the lace beneath. “Lift,” I demand.

She arches her hips, allowing me to tug all that fabric down in a smooth motion. I toss them toward the bench behind the table and grip her knees, spreading them wide. She curses when I reach for her shirt and remove it much the same. Grinning when I find the full swell of her breasts through the thin fabric of her bra.

“This has to go,” I purr, plucking the clasp at the back. She swallows and I watch as her breasts fall from the fabric, spilling out perfectly into my waiting hands. I spend a moment worshipping them, watching the little micro-expressions that break across her features before moving my grip up to her throat. She yelps when I shove her back first into the table, her blonde hair spilling out around her face as I come to stand between her parted thighs.

She lays completely bare before me, her chest heaving as her eyes blow wild with fear, wondering what I’ll do to her. A beautiful canvas of lean muscle and skin wrapped around a delicate frame.

I squeeze, reminding myself how easily it would be to just—snap.

I bite down on the dark impulse before it can swell and lower my mouth to the sweet heat of her skin. My teeth and tongue tracing a path down, down, down. Down every curve I have been mapping beneath her clothes for weeks. She rewards me with a moan torn straight from heaven’s throat and I sink to kneel between her thighs. My focus falling over where she’s already so fucking ready.

“For someone who claimed they didn’t want me, her pussy is awfully fucking needy.” I purr before diving in. My tongue swipes clean up her center, from bottom to top, and the taste of her explodes across my senses. Another groan—this one deeper in my chest—vibrating through me.

Her body arches up and my hand is quick to slide up to her sternum, pinning her to the table and exactly where I want her. I don’t give her time to think past her own pleasure, my tongue carving up to her clit before I latch on.

She screams, bucking off the table when my teeth nip just hard enough to sting and register. My forearm flexes as I force her right back down, grinning despite myself when her nails sink into my scalp. The pain registers a moment before I press two of my fingers past her entrance, thrusting hard enough that she rocks back on the table. Well aware that by the time I am finished with her she’ll walk with a reminder of me for days in the ache between her thighs.

“Alex,” she pleads, her tone wrecked.

She should know by now that there’s no mercy here.

That all we are is all in or nothing at all.

I sink a third finger to join the other two, eyes flicking up in time to watch her brows furrow as I work to stretch her open. It doesn’t take long and her body is bowing off the table completely, coming on the tip of my tongue and fingers. Groaning, I lap up every drop of her desire, not stopping until she’s twitching and whining.

I chuckle, wiping my mouth at her thigh before I climb back up her body to survey my handiwork. She’s flushed, her skin warmed and her lashes fluttering where they are hooded over her steel-green eyes. My hands slide to span down her curves, over the swell of her thighs and to the junction behind her knees.

“Hold them,” I growl and shove them toward her chest. Her eyes pop open at that, to be so open and exposed before me, but she takes them without fight. My eyes dropping to the chipped black paint on her nails as they bite into the softness of her own skin.