“Just listen,” he says in a low throaty voice. “Look at me, Ronnie. Because I’m only gonna tell you this once.” He rocks his hips into mine, grinding his erection against me. And I am instantly flooding with wetness in anticipation. “I said f**king look at me.”
I refocus, taking my attention away from the growing need between my legs, and stare him in the eyes. His emotions are coming through more clearly than normal, and while Spencer has never been a man to hide behind a facade of indifference like Ford, he tries to keep things on an even keel. But right now everything he’s feeling… shows.
He cares?
And then, like he realizes I can see though him, he turns it off.
“Baby,” he growls into my ear, “I’ll give you what you want right now. But you gotta work with me here, Ronnie. If I give you what you want, you give me what I want.”
I look out into the curtain of rain which is the only thing between our growing desire and the cars on the street outside beyond the alley. He’s going to take me here, and he’s not going to care who sees us.
“Tell me you want it,” he orders. “You know how I work.”
I do know how he works. Spencer can make me come without ever touching me or uttering a single word. Because Spencer likes the details. Spencer wants to know everything I want, and he wants me to be crystal clear about it.
Details like… “My pu**y is tingling, Mr. Shrike,” I purr into his ear.
He grinds against me harder now, his breath becoming labored and heavy. This drives me wild, and he knows it. His breath in my ear is a signal we’ve had since the beginning. A signal that says I’m ready for you, baby. Tell me everything. Tell me how you feel, tell me how I make you feel, tell me what you want, tell me how you want it.
“I want it here, Mr. Shrike. Outside, in the alley. And I want it now.”
His grinding intensifies even more now, and one hand reaches down to grab my ass while the other one unsnaps my jeans. “We might get caught, Bombshell,” he says in that reasonable tone he always gets when I’m the one doing the dirty talk.
“We might,” I agree.
“Mr. Harrison might open the donut shop door to throw out a bag of trash any second now.”“He could,” I concede again, but my zipper is loose and my pants are sliding down my hips before the words are fully formed.
“Take me out, Veronica.”
I unsnap his jeans and release his zipper just as quickly, then push his pants down just far enough for his hard c**k to escape. My jeans are still around my hips and I let my arm drop so my purse can slide to the ground. My shoes fall out and one tumbles down the concrete stairs and lands in a puddle in the parking lot.
Both of Spencer’s hands are reaching down inside my jeans so they can cup my bare ass and then suddenly he lifts me up. I bend my knees and raise my legs to give him access, pushing back against the uneven brick wall to keep me in position. He doesn’t pull my jeans down so my legs are only open enough to give his thick c**k access. I rest my calves on his shoulders and even through his leather jacket I can feel the power in those muscles.
Spencer is nothing but power.
He’s gonna take me with no fanfare and no foreplay.
But with Spencer, the sex is the foreplay. It’s not what he does, it’s how he does it. It’s not what he says, it’s how he says it. It’s not how I feel, it’s how he makes me feel.
Spencer Shrike does not need to suck on my clit to get me ready. When I see him, I’m ready.
“Take me like this,” I moan out in his ear. “Put your c**k in me and just take me here, right now.”
“Take you how, Bomb?” He eases his c**k between my folds and I gasp as he pulls away. “Like this, soft and gentle?”
“No,” I whine. “No. I want it hard. I want you to make me scream your name right now. I want to scream it so loud—” I lean in and purr in his ear in the softest of voices. “I want to scream your name so loud it’ll stop traffic out there on the street. And—” I have to bite my tongue and stop talking for a moment. It’s been so f**king long, I might make myself come.
His dick flirts with my entrance and he’s holding me up one-handed now. My jeans are barely past my thighs, so I have to fight the urge to open my legs wide to invite him in. He’s pressing me against the wall so hard, for a moment I have a slight panic about being able to breathe. But he can read me better than anyone and the pressure on my chest eases up just as his c**k thrusts inside me and his hand returns to my ass, holding me steady. The angle of my hips and the fact that my ankles are practically next to my head make his thrusts painful, but it’s the kind of pain girls fantasize about. Being filled up with the long hard c**k of someone they love so much they spend every waking moment thinking of this.
His grinding evens out and we find our rhythm, my back arching and pushing forward each time he pounds me backwards against the uneven brick wall, our breath heavy with desire and effort.
I’m in ecstasy, I’m so close, even though his dick is nowhere near my clit, I don’t need that with Spencer. His smell is enough to set me off. The thick corded muscles of his upper arms as he strains to hold me steady and f**k me at the same time—that is enough.
I’m about to explode when he pulls back and leans into my ear before I can whimper my protest. “Bombshell, listen carefully now, baby. Because I told you I was only gonna say it once, but sometimes it takes a good public f**k to make you hear me.”