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.She wanted to bite, so she bit, she wanted to moan, so she moaned, and when really filthy words rose up in her throat she said them.“Lick my clit,” she told him.“Oh yes, lick it just like that.”Only it wasn’t in a voice she’d ever heard before.It was breathy and desperate and so horny.Christ, she had no idea she could be this horny—and better yet, he sounded the same.He wanted her to suck harder and press against him more firmly.“Rub yourself all over my face,” he said, and so she did.She did without thinking twice about it.She opened her legs wider and rocked her hips, and when that wasn’t enough she used her hand.She spread her slippery lips with two urgent fingers, wanting more, wanting him to lick at her faster and more deeply—anything, just anything to get more of this sensation.It was just like the first time, almost too intense to bear.The buzz of it seemed to set her teeth on edge and dim the world around its edges, but somehow she couldn’t get enough.Her orgasm rose and fell through her body like a tidal wave, and still she wanted to swim through this glorious ocean.He flooded her mouth with his come, and still, and still.Her first words to him when her breathing calmed enough to speak and he gathered himself enough to sit up were more please.And he gave it to her.He laughed, of course.But he gave it to her.It occurred to her as he drew her into his arms that he would always give it to her.That she just had to ask and it would be hers.She could see it in his eyes as he took her—first slowly, tenderly, and then with more urgency once he realized.Urgency was what she needed.Urgency was what she liked.She didn’t care about bruises or being hurt.She only wanted that sweet ache again—the one that happened when he really fucked without thinking.When he grabbed her hips and grunted and let her have what she knew he longed for too.He longed to lose himself in her, she was sure.Passionate sex wasn’t enough.Only handfuls of her hair and demands he didn’t want to make and falling all the way into her was enough.Or at least, that was how it felt to her.Like falling into someone and never wanting to come back out.When he grabbed her, she grabbed him back.When he told her to turn so he could fuck her like that she was already moving before the words were out.And when he gasped out that it felt amazing—to rut like that against her, holding her hips and her hair and feeling her back arch to take more of him—he was only echoing all the things she wanted to say.It was unbelievable, the difference it made to be taken in that way.Not just because of the shift toward something more greedy and grasping and animalistic, but in the sheer physical sensation of it.The feel of his cock rubbing so insistently over that good, good place inside her…one of his hands pressing between her legs at the same time…It was barely a minute of this bliss before orgasm pushed and shoved through her.And oh God, did it push and shove.She tried to moan, but her teeth were so tightly clamped together she couldn’t manage it.Instead she just had to hold on as he wrenched her in two.Then patiently put her back together again.Oh he so patiently put her back together again.As soon as the insane, impossible pleasure was done, he turned her and spread her out on the bed.He cupped her face in his hands.He said her name, so sweet and wondering she had to believe.How could she not? They had lost themselves in each other, and come through to the other side.They had done all those things without shame or worry, and opened up to each other in ways she never thought she could.They could do this, they could really do this.He could be Bernie and she could be Alice and they could live happily ever after, they could.She was sure of it…And then she went downstairs to get a drink of water, still basking in the afterglow, and saw the shadow just outside the door.She heard an unfamiliar voice calling through it.Holden Stark, this someone called, in that proprietary way of all paparazzi.As if they knew him, as if they were friends.She wanted to shout at them— That’s not even who he is, he’s not really Holden.But of course that wasn’t the problem.The problem was that as soon as he saw her, as soon as he took her picture…She would not be Alice.* * * * *She wasn’t sure how long she’d been standing there when he finally came down to find her.It seemed like just a few moments, though she knew it couldn’t have been.Her leg was aching from holding it in one place for so long, and even if it hadn’t been, there were other clues.The man was gone, for a start.He’d grown tired of banging and hollering through her door at nothing—either that or he’d seen her through the frosted glass and gotten scared
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