you have one?’ I demand, my eyes narrowing.
He shifts his head in a tight nod, almost a resentful nod, as though he’s still fighting this. As though he’s holding back from giving himself over to me completely, even when we’ve already begun. Even when it’s inevitable.
‘So?’ It’s a challenge and he throws his head back on a hoarse laugh.
‘Where?’ I push, knowing I need to keep this moving. I want more. I would prefer not to be fucking him in a maintenance corridor, but beggars can’t be choosers. After almost a month of getting to this point, this is where it happened.
I see now that it was always going to happen. From that first day when our eyes met and our bodies pulled, there has been no point fighting this. We delayed for a noble amount of time, but delay was all we could hope for.
He reaches into his wallet and pulls out a condom, handing it to me.
I hold his eyes as I rip the top off and then I drop to my knees in front of him. I keep looking at him as I slide the condom out of its foil. And then, before I force it over his throbbing dick, I open my mouth and take him in deep. I taste us both and it is a heady mix of our pleasures.
He swears and his hands rip into my hair once more, pulling at its length as I move my head up and down his shaft, rolling my tongue over his tip and tasting the beads of his precum; power swells in my chest.
‘Jesus fucking Christ, Olivia. Stop.’
I don’t want to stop but, selfishly, I need to feel him inside me once more. I pull away from him but his hands remain in my hair. I stare at his eyes as I slide the condom on and then his hands are under my arms, pulling me to standing.
‘This fucking dress,’ he says again, and his anger at the dress is as unreasonable as it is amusing.
I grab it at the sides, hoisting it up around my hips as he lifts me, positioning me at his waist and pushing me down on his cock. He steps forward so my back hits the wall and every thrust he makes slides me up and down the cold white plasterboard.
‘I want to fuck you properly,’ he grunts.
‘Aren’t you doing that?’
He doesn’t answer and it makes me wonder what a proper Connor Hughes fucking would feel like... Help me... I can’t even—
I tilt my head back and he dips his forward, his teeth pressing into the flesh at the side of my neck, biting me, tasting me, and I whimper as he thrusts harder and deeper. I see stars once more—I am one of them, a celestial being high up in the heavens.
It is me and the galaxy.
‘I want to rip this dress off you,’ he grunts and I shake my head.
‘Don’t you dare.’ I can’t deny that the idea of his bare hands shredding it from my skin holds appeal. I told you. His animal savagery is stunning.
He thrusts hard and I say his name again and again and again as pleasure breaks over me like a hurricane. This time he explodes with me, his urgent movements bringing us both home, satiating us simultaneously.
We might be mop-adjacent, but that was the best sex of my life.
I’m already wondering when I can be with him again.
* * *
We cannot do that again. I stare across the room at her, seeing the way she smiles as that idiot from Scott Manning Grey says something he thinks is funny and Olivia laughs. She is immaculate. There is barely a sign that I’ve just fucked her hard against the walls of Tate Modern. Only I would be able to perceive the way her hair is a little like a bird’s nest at the back, from where my fingers tangled in the curls and pulled them hard.
Her lips are fresh once more, lined with bright red lipstick—the same lipstick that is smeared over my cock.
Jesus. The way she was as crazed by what we are as I am. The way she wanted everything. Demanded it.
We can’t do it again and yet I know we will. As sure as day follows night I know that wasn’t enough for either of us. Not by a long shot.
‘Connor.’ I tilt my head towards the voice, a tight smile on my lips when I see someone I know approaching.
‘Aston. How are you?’ I extend a hand and he shakes it. Life hasn’t been kind to Aston in the eight or so years since I saw him last. He’s gained a tyre around his middle and lost all the hair on his head. His cheeks have the ruddy glow of one who’s been imbibing all evening. And he probably has been.
Our glasses, Olivia’s and mine, are still in the corridor, beside the mop bucket. I flick my gaze to her like a nervous tic, tracking her progress through the room, watching as she speaks to lecturers, students and professionals.
That dress. It is a beautiful dress but I can’t look at her now without seeing it bunched around her waist, without knowing exactly how it feels to have it thick in my hands, exposing her to me.
‘Not as good as you. Bloody oath. That Donovan verdict was a bit of a win, eh?’
Donovan is the last thing I want to talk about. It threatens to drag me back to earth, and I am so far above it, floating high above all of this.
‘Yeah.’ I offer a curt dismissal. ‘What are you working on now?’
‘Contracts,’ he says with a grimace, like he’s ashamed. ‘Mainly military.’
I nod. Olivia looks up—is she looking for me? Her eyes connect with mine for the briefest moment and then move on. My body surges with adrenalin and need. It is after ten. When will this thing end? And will she come home with me?
* * *
‘Well, Miss Amorelli...’ His voice is like honey, sliding over my body. Images of what we did flash through my mind. His hands at my hips, pushing me forward, his cock at my arse, him driving into me. God, we haven’t even kissed.
‘Yes, sir?’ I bat my lashes up at him, aware that we are surrounded by people but that the crowd offers a unique kind of cover.
‘You seem to be the only student not planning to apply to my firm.’
I lift my brows. ‘Does that bother you?’
‘It interests me,’ he corrects, shifting a little, moving his body closer to me. His masculine fragrance grips me and makes me tremble a little.
‘I don’t want to work for you.’
His laugh is sharp. ‘You wouldn’t work for me. You’d work for someone who works for someone who works for someone who works for me.’
His arrogance should be off-putting but it isn’t. His power is mind-blowingly sexy, particularly because it’s a power he’s created all on his own. At least, I think he has. I feel my face crinkle into a frown as I realise how little I know about him.
‘You’d be really far below me,’ he adds huskily and my heart trips in my chest.
‘Heavy-handed
