Chapter 6: I Got Her Dress Off And She Was Already Dripping Down Her Thighs

Her back hits the wall and she pulls me into her so hard there's nothing between us. Not an inch. Not a breath.

I can feel her heart hammering against my chest. Or maybe that's mine. Both of us, probably, racing in the same direction.

"Two years," she breathes against my mouth. "We wasted so much time."

"Making up for it now." I drag my lips down her throat and she tips her head back and both her hands slide into my hair and grip. "Every single second."

"Then stop being slow about it, Mateo."

I reach down, grab the silk sash at her waist, pull it loose, and the wrap dress falls open. I push it off her shoulders and it pools on the floor and she's standing against my wall in just a strapless bra and a tiny pair of underwear so thin and so damp I can see exactly how she feels about the last five minutes right through the fabric.

I stand back just slightly and look at her.

"Gosh." The word falls out of her, small and slightly self-conscious under my gaze.

"Don't." I put one hand flat on the wall beside her head. "Don't cover up. Don't move. Just let me look at you."

She goes still.

I look.

Warm brown skin and full soft curves and that mouth slightly parted and her chest rising and falling fast and uneven and she is genuinely the most beautiful thing I have ever had this close to me.

"Mateo." Impatient now, a slight edge creeping in.

I reach between her thighs and press two fingers flat against the soaked fabric of her underwear and she jolts hard, hips snapping forward, chasing the pressure before she can stop herself.

"Already this wet?" I keep my voice low, right at her ear, close enough that she feels the warmth of my breath. "I haven't even touched you properly yet."

"Don't make it weird," she mutters.

"I'm being sincere." I press harder, rubbing slow deliberate circles through the fabric, feeling the heat of her, and she whimpers, forehead dropping forward onto my shoulder, fingers curling into my shirt. "Were you wet before you knocked on my door?"

"...Yes."

"Were you wet in the elevator?"

"Mateo, I swear to God..."

I pull the fabric aside and slide two fingers directly through her folds, parting her, feeling how slick and swollen she already is, and she cuts off whatever threat she was building with a sharp broken cry that bounces off every wall in the room.

"Soaking," I say against her ear. "Absolutely soaking. All of this just from talking?"

"From thinking about you," she gasps, hips rolling helplessly. "I've been thinking about you for months, now will you please..."

I push both fingers inside her and curl them up hard and she grabs my forearm with both hands and her nails dig in and she makes a sound that goes straight to my cock like a current.

"Oh!" Her head slams back against the wall. "Oh fuck, right there, don't stop, don't you dare stop..." 

I work her deep and slow, fingers pumping, palm grinding against her clit, and she is immediately, gloriously loud. No composure left. No careful social Zara. Just her, riding my hand against my wall, soaking my fingers, saying my name in ways she definitely never has at any dinner table.

"More," she demands breathlessly. "Faster. Give me more, Mateo."

"Greedy."

"You have no idea how greedy." She grabs my wrist and tries to force my pace faster and I let her, I let her use my hand exactly how she needs it, and she fucks herself on my fingers hard and fast and the wet obscene sounds filling my living room are the best thing I've ever heard.

"I'm close," she pants. "I'm so close already, don't stop, please don't stop..." 

I drop to my knees.

She looks down at me, chest heaving, eyes completely blown open.

I hook my fingers into her underwear and drag it down her legs and press my mouth directly against her clit and the sound she makes is so loud and so raw she slaps her hand over her own mouth.

I pull her hand away and pin her wrist to the wall.

"Every sound," I tell her, looking up from between her thighs. "I want to hear every single one."

She stops muffling.

I seal my lips around her clit and suck and slide three fingers inside her simultaneously and she screams, actually screams, hips bucking wildly against my face while I hold her thigh over my shoulder to keep her from collapsing. I work her ruthlessly, tongue flicking fast and relentless while my fingers curl and pump, fucking her deep, her slick coating my hand all the way to my wrist.

"Cumming," she sobs. "Mateo, oh God, I'm cumming, I'm cumming right now..."

She floods my mouth and shakes apart completely, thighs clamped around my head, one hand twisted desperately in my hair while the other slaps the wall for something to hold onto. I drink every drop and keep going until she's whimpering and oversensitive and yanking my hair upward with both fists.

I stand.

She's completely wrecked against my wall, flushed from her chest to her cheeks, legs barely holding her, and she looks at me with her swollen lips parted and says absolutely nothing for three full seconds.

"Bedroom." 

"Carry me." She holds her arms out without a trace of embarrassment. "My legs are genuinely not working right now."

I pick her up. She wraps herself around me, warm and loose and laughing quietly against my neck, and I carry her down the hall and that laugh does something to my chest that goes much further than tonight and I'm not touching that right now.

Right now I'm focused on finishing what I started.