Dinah slid her hands between his chest and his vest, pushing the leather off his shoulders. He tugged at the bottom of her shirt.
"Stop." She pushed his hands away and worked on the buttons. "Uniform. Can't ruin it."
He moved his pistol from underneath his belt to his back pocket, then undid his pants, letting them sag. Eyeing Dinah in the dark, he strained to see more of her body in the glow from the street light out in front of her house.
She pushed down her shorts, taking her panties off, too. He wanted more time to strip himself naked but wouldn't waste time taking off his boots or jeans.
Leaning over he dug in his pocket for a condom and rolled the protection on while Dinah removed her bra. The paleness of her breasts enticed him forward.
He held out his arm. She slipped her fingers into his hand. There was only a couch in the room, and he wanted nothing getting in their way.
Bending her, he went to the floor with her and settled between her legs. Braced on his elbows, he pushed her hair away from her face. He wanted to see her.
Last time with her was quick and impersonal.
He entered her slowing, taking in the way her eyes fluttered at the pressure of his cock going deep inside of her. His gut tightened, and he held still when all he wanted to do was pump inside of her.
The tight warmth she provided felt better than anything.
He moved slowly, short strokes, and held her head in his hands. "Don't close your eyes."
"I won't." She panted, grabbed on to his forearms. "I just..."
He stilled. "What?"
She tried to shake her head, but he wouldn't let her. He wanted to hear what she had to say.
"Doing this once was one thing." She closed her mouth and swallowed. "I normally don't do one-night stands."
"Ja?"
Her brow lowered at the language slipping out of him. "Huh?"
She made him lose control. He was here to fuck, not become friends.
"It doesn't matter." He kissed her lightly. "Not a damn bit."
"It does to me." Her lips found his ear. "You make me feel good."
He raised his head. She'd gone serious on him. There was no flirting or bullshit in her confession.
He'd make her feel good.
Moving his pelvis, he lengthened his strokes. Sliding deep inside of her, he no longer wanted to pound her. He wanted to linger and watch the light come back into her eyes and feel the wisp of her breath on his neck.
Her fingers tightened on his forearms. She had nothing to fear. He wasn't going anywhere. He wasn't going to stop. He was going to bring her back to that place where satisfaction became a drug.
Her wetness coated the condom. The uninterrupted glide of his cock fueled her body. Caught up in her reaction, sweat broke out on his back. He should've stripped naked. He should've put her on a bed. He should've planned tonight.
Instead, he moved the way his body commanded. The way she needed. The way he wanted.
"Oh." She inhaled swiftly, arching her neck. "So good."
She hooked her ankles underneath his ass. He pumped into her, his body going crazy with her wrapped around him.
It was better than good.
He pushed to his hands. Her legs tightened around him, and she lifted her head. He could read the panic that he was leaving her before he finished.
He wasn't going anywhere.
Lengthening his strokes, he pulled out until the head of his cock slipped out, only to experience her tightness again when he slid back in. The power behind his rhythm moved Dinah against the floor. Her head tilted back, and she grunted with each full impact.
He repeated, again and again, and again.
Flailing her arms, she grabbed, pulled, hit him as her pleasure escalated. Their rapid breaths filled the quiet room. His pulse roared in his ears, and he strived for the pleasure waiting for him.
Dinah held her breath. Her body strained.
As if held in a vise, Brage groaned, pumping hard. His toes curled in his boots. She squeezed down on him and stifled her scream of release. Charged, his body unraveled as his balls throbbed, and he filled the condom.
He slowed.
Her legs slid from around him.
She closed her eyes and turned her head.
He dropped to his elbows and palmed her cheeks, forcing her to look at him. She wasn't going to forget him that easily. She wasn't going to ignore what happened between them. She wasn't going to shut him out. Not when she was on his mind every damn minute lately.
"Don't ignore me." He stroked her face. "Not yet."
"I'm not." She arched underneath him. "You can get off me."
Planted deep inside of her, he was comfortable. His dick wanted to stay inside her warmth. It would come out on its own. In time. When it was right.
"You don't hang around Slag because you have a man in the club." He took in the way her body hardened underneath him. "You came around before you got the job."
"So," she said.
"You claim not to fuck around, and you felt I needed to know." He pulled out of her and pushed to his feet, taking out the condom. "So, why me? Not once, but twice."
She sat up and grabbed her shirt, slipping her arms inside and buttoning it halfway up. Then, she threw an empty plastic sack at him. "Maybe you should ask yourself that question."
"I have, babe." He threw the condom in the bag.
Her brows lowered. "Babe?"
He shook his head. What the hell was he doing?
Tucking his dick in his jeans, he fastened his belt and moved his pistol into position. He never put demands on a woman because of sex. It was a human act. A way to feel good. She'd told him as much earlier.
His personal lines blurred because of his need to protect Slag members. He asked the members to
