She reacts immediately—fuck yes, she does—her breath breaking, her body leaning into mine like she forgot she was supposed to fight me on this.
That sound she makes—low. Unsteady.
Mine.
It snaps whatever restraint I had left.
“Shh, Sunshine. Need you to stay quiet. Keep those desperate little sounds for me, got it?” I whisper and she nods, biting her lip as my fingers find her panties beneath the hem of her skirt.
I deepen the kiss, angle her exactly where I want her, press her back against the marble until she has no choice but to feel me there, feel how hard this hits, how real it is.
“Fuck, you’re soaked. You feel that?” I murmur against her mouth, not giving her space to answer, not giving her time to think.
I slide her panties over, running my fingers through her slick in slow, deliberate swipes, mapping her again like I’m reminding myself she’s real and not something I imagined.
“You think I walked away this morning because I was done?” I ask, voice rough, edged now. “Because I got what I wanted?”
Her breath stutters.
I pull back just enough to look at her.
Let her see it.
All of it.
The need.
The frustration.
The fact that I’m standing here barely holding it together.
“I left because if I woke you up, I wouldn’t have walked out that door at all.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Charged.
Her grip tightens on me.
That’s all the answer I need.
My thumb drags across her lip, slow, deliberate.
“You want to pretend this is a mistake?” I go on. “Say it.”
I lean in again, voice dropping lower.
“Say you don’t want this.”
She doesn’t.
“I want this, David. I want you,” she whispers, her pupils blown as I press two digits inside her sopping wet heat.
Her sheath clenches around me and my fingers pump in and out while I find her tight little nubbin with my thumb.
She’s close. I know she is.