I scan the room as he bites my throat and his hands flex under my thighs. He sets me down and pins me against the side of an exhibit case with his chest and hips, while his hands keep roaming up and down the bare skin of my thighs under my dress.
I twist my head to check that the exhibit room is still empty—we’re partially hidden from view, but it wouldn’t take someone very long to figure out there’s a girl getting felt up in the corner. My turning deprives him of my throat and he growls my name.
“Just making sure no one sees,” I say—my words choked off by a large hand palming my breast and the resulting surge of heat between my legs. As if he knows—he always knows—Church presses his hips in and uses the giant rod of his erection to rub against me.
“Don’t I always make sure you’re safe?” he asks, fucking me slowly through our clothes. He pushes up my dress so that it’s only his trousers and my knickers between us and I groan. “Have I ever let a stranger see what’s mine?”
“N-no.” My teeth are chattering, and I can’t stop shaking. Each grind of his cock against me has my eyes fluttering. “You never let anyone see.”
It’s the truth. Church had always been as careful as he was insatiable, and as many times as I’d been fucked, fingered, or eaten in public, I’d never been seen. I was never sure if it was because he was possessive or thoughtful or some heady mix of both, but the result was the same: Church took care of me as he took what he wanted from me, and every needy, breathless fuck that we stole in public was as safe as it was urgent.
He rakes his teeth over my throat as I realize he’s angled our bodies so that even the security cameras can’t see us. “Do you trust me?”
God, he wants an answer that I don’t have. “I trust you with this,” I finally say, and he nods, as if he already knew the answer. But when my eyes catch his, I see a turbulent midnight there. He thinks this is our goodbye fuck, this is some final gift he doesn’t deserve but can’t keep himself from taking.
I don’t want it to be our goodbye fuck. I don’t want that at all. But before I can tell him this, his big hands are in my panties, finding my wet place and penetrating me without warning.
I gasp and arch against him, the small bite of pain heavenly against the pleasure, like salt on chocolate. But that’s nothing compared to what happens to him. As my body clasps his fingers, he gives a fierce growl against my neck, like an animal that’s just scented his mate, and suddenly he’s yanking my panties down and tearing at his belt.
“Need inside,” he grunts.
“God, yes, fuckingyes, do it, do it—”
He frees his cock and I nearly expire at the sight of it. It’s thick and straight and a yummy dusky color, and it wedges its way through his opened trousers like a weapon. Like a scepter. Ready to ruin me and rule me.
I can’t wait. Like literally can’t wait. I’m arching and mewing against him like a fussy kitten.
He reaches for his pocket and his head snaps up. “I don’t have a condom.”
For a moment, I’m speechless—Churchalwayshad condoms because I always needed fucking, and usually more than once—but then I let out a giggle that echoes around the exhibit.
His broken-soft smile returns, although his eyes are still wild animal eyes. “What, Miss Tenpenny?”
“Just—” I cradle his jaw with my hand. “If I hadn’t believed you weren’t planning on being forgiven before, I believe it now. Because if you thought there was any chance of this happening, I know you would have had like twenty condoms in your wallet.”
He shakes his head, then presses his lips to my palm. “What have I told you about hyperbole? It’s beneath your intellect. Naturally, I would’ve only put ten condoms in there.”
I laugh again and he bites my palm.
“I have an IUD now,” I tell him, my laughter edging back into fervent need. “And I’m clean. Church, if you mean it, if you meant what you said about not being with anyone since me—”
“I meant it. You want me inside you now? Bare?”
His words are hungry, and that hunger stirs me past enduring. I’ve never had him like this, raw and intimate. Just Church. Primal, naked Church.
“Please,” I beg, pushing my hips forward. My panties are down far enough that I kick them to one side and I use a hand to hold up my dress so he can see the place I need filled. I don’t want there to be any mistaking what’s his to take. What’s his to ease himself with.
Church gives a low groan and his erection surges, growing even thicker, the skin pulling taut and shiny. “I need to fuck you,” he says, somehow both coldly and hoarsely in that contradictory way of his.
“Please take it, God, justplease,” I whine, reaching for him, but he stops my hands by grabbing my wrists and pinning them above my head with one hand as he gives the room a quick search.
Then he takes himself in a big hand and notches himself right at my pussy. I wrap a leg around his waist to open myself up to him, and the action spreads my flesh open so that now the searing heat of his crown is pushed right against where I’m wettest.
A hollow groan escapes his throat, and his head drops down between his shoulders, as if even this small contact is too much to bear. For a moment, we just breathe and shiver like this, with his head ducked and his cock spreading me open and his hips poised to thrust.
“Church,” I breathe.
“I know,” he breathes back. “I’m just—fuck,I need it, but I also need a moment to be grateful for this, Charlotte, because I am grateful. So fucking grateful. Just a moment more, just be patient a moment more for me.”