Sliding lower, Huck traced the zipper—thumbed the brass button. I couldn't close my legs, his knee was a firm blockade.

He nuzzled my cheek; thick, dark hair caressed me. “Say that you're wet for me. If you can do that, I won't fuck you in this filthy alley. I'll take you back to my place, lay you out on a nice bed... make it soft and tender and sweet as god damn honey.”

His fingers tread in circles, curving over the gap of my thighs. He was so close to my cunt. It didn't feel like I had anything between us, nothing to keep him from realizing how excited I was.

Licking my lips, I shut my eyes. Do I want to tell him? I didn't know. I was lost in my desires, completely forgetting how hard I had fought against this man. My reasons were muddled under the tingles.

I was hungry for him. I could feel my own slick juices without moving.

But still, admitting how wild he was making me... it was too much.

“Last chance, doll,” he growled. Cupping me through my jeans, he squeezed roughly. My moan wasn't sweet or soft or modest. “Shit,” he breathed out, searing my ear. “Maybe you do just want me to fuck you right here.”

I had forgotten I had hands—my limbs had been numb. Now, I curled my fingers into Huck's hair, forcing him up so I could kiss him. He shuddered, and I felt a flash of power. I was exciting him as much as he was tormenting me.

My voice was liquid fire. “In this alley, at your place, on your damn bike... I don't care.” Wrenching him away, I stared into his furious green eyes and didn't blink. “Just fuck me, Mr. Romantic. I'm tired of waiting.”

He sized me up, both hands slipping down to crush my hips. “Yes, ma'am. Happy to be of service.” With ease, he twirled me. My cheek brushed the stone, skin so sensitive that the texture was like sandpaper. It went through my jacket and shirt, chilling my firm nipples.

Holding me by the wrists, all in a single hand, Huck pulled my arms to the small of my back. Over my eager, surprised gasp, I listened to him growl. “I'll fuck you like you're asking... but we do it my way.”

His way.

That sounded perfect.

With his free fingers, he deftly removed my jacket. It bunched up around my arms, not falling as he kept hold of my wrists. I thought he'd have trouble reaching me. I was wrong.

Yanking my spine into a sharp curve, he lifted my chest off the wall. A mere few inches, enough to get under the cotton and trace my tits through my bra. I whimpered, tossing my head.

He didn't remove my bra, he just yanked it up, exposing my breasts. December wind brushed the dusky tips, making them impossibly stiffer. Easy targets for his thumb and forefinger.

Twisting lightly, he drew forth another moan. Huck murmured, “Jesus, you're sensitive.” Flicking finger-pads over the other nipple, he nuzzled the back of my ear. “Is all of you like this?”

“Like what?” I gasped.

“Perfect for fucking.” His tongue made swirls on my neck. Cupping my left breast, he squeezed softly—then hungrily. “Go ahead, tell me what I'll find when I reach into your pants and rub that impatient cunt.”

Color blocked out my vision. “Shit, you have a filthy mouth,” I hissed.

Huxton brought his hand to my jeans, popping the button. “Love, every inch of me is filthy.”

Pleasure controlled my lower belly. So did my urge to show him that I knew he was going as wild as me. Shifting my hips, I rubbed my ass along the front of his jeans. The material bulged, bruising us both. His cock was rigid as steel.

He hissed through clenched teeth. “If you're trying to make me harder, I don't think it's possible. You like the feel of that?” Huck rocked into me, pressing me against the wall. “That's all from you, babe.”

Okay, I admit—that made me grin proudly. He erased my expression with the agile unzipping of my jeans. My smugness melted, a whimper left in its place.

Huck slid my pants down, dipping inside the front. Two fingers outlined the grooves just outside my panties. I almost fell—his body held me up. He whispered, “You're on fire down here.”

Wrong. I was on fire everywhere. I sought him out, desperate to get his fingers to touch my pussy. Huck was keen to stroke anywhere but where I needed him to. I drove my hips forward; he just laughed, squeezing my inner thigh.

“I like this side of you,” he said. “You're fun when you go a bit crazy.”

“I'm not crazy.”

“Then what are you?”

Shutting me eyes, I bit my tongue. He would have none of that.

Letting my wrists go, he used my hair as a handle. Fingers tickled near my clit, his lips brushing my cheek. Forcing me to look at him, Huxton let me see the lust in his emerald eyes. He'd never hidden behind a curtain, not like me.

Yet somehow... now?

I was gazing into the eyes of a wicked creature. Someone that was barely holding back from eating me up, from making me scream.

He thumbed my engorged clit—just once. “Aah!” I squeaked, shaking down to the heels of my feet.

“Don't run from me, Zoe.” The fist in my hair wrenched sharply, setting my scalp on fire. It hurt, but I fucking loved it. The pain made me more aware of everything—the breeze, my own skin, and him. Huxton Blake.

The man who wanted to ruin me.

And I was ready for it.

Hell, I needed it.

Licking my lips, I breathed out, “Fuck me.”

His fingers clenched, mouth twitching. My demand had melted some of his strength. Huck was lusting for me, his cock jamming through his jeans and against my ass. “Say it again,” he demanded.

Unblinking, I stared him in the eye. His expectation made me shiver. “Fuck. Me.” I punctuated every word. I wanted him to understand. No games—I needed him inside of me, or I was going to lose my mind.

Two fingers slid into my cunt, curling through my wetness. I moaned, thrusting into his palm. It wasn't his cock, but it was better than my own fingers. Far better than what I'd done to myself in the safety of my bed.

Masturbating to the idea of Huxton was a mere shadow when compared to the real thing.

“You're fucking tight,” he groaned. Deeper, he explored me. His thumb twisted, brushing my clit, pushing me so close to coming I expected my heart to just stop. He'd gotten me near my climax with ease.

He touched me expertly. His experience was clear, and it thrilled and intimidated me simultaneously. I loved that he knew what to do, but that power... god. The things he could do to me.

The things he could make me do to him.

Sex could be a weapon, I knew that. And still, in his capable hands, I shrugged away the danger. I was already becoming addicted to this man, could it possibly get worse after he made me come?

I didn't let myself answer that.

Huck wriggled his fingers, testing what I could handle. Electricity bounced to my brain, muscles hugging him, fluttering. “You're close, doll. I can feel it.” Again, he gave my clit a casual rub. “I can't wait to feel you come. Fuck, my cock is throbbing at the thought of it. I've been dreaming about the sounds you'll make for me, Zoe.”

That was it. I was done.

Throwing my head back into his shoulder, I sobbed as the orgasm ripped through me. My knees bent, pushing together, trapping his hand. The hot pressure surged, my pussy clenching desperately onto his fingers.

Pleasure turned my tongue numb. He'd created such a massive ball of desire in my stomach, the tension flexing and melting through my cunt.

In my ear, he hissed, “Fuck, that's magical. I'm done waiting, I can't—not after that.” His fingers pulled free with a wet sound, juice tickling my skin. I tried to move my arms, but my jacket was bunched so tight around my wrists they were essentially cuffs.

His metallic zipper sliced through the air. My gasp followed it.

Gripping my panties, Huck tore them and my pants all the way to my ankles. I was completely vulnerable, he had me pinned. But I wasn't scared. Fuck no.