Thank God.
Rational thought could take a break as far as he was concerned.
“Part your legs, baby,” Razor murmured against her lips. Ginny moaned and obliged. Then his hand was traveling up—up the soft flesh at her inner thigh, up and up until he had her hot cunt cradled against his palm, separated by a sliver of paper-thin cotton. Jesus Fucking Christ, she was drenched. Her liquid heat blistered his skin, teased his prick and made the beast hungry for a taste.
Ginny’s head flew back against the wall, baring her sweet throat to his mouth’s assault. “Oh,” she whimpered.
Razor grinned and licked her neck, pushing the crotch of her panties aside to tease the seam of her vaginal lips. Warm honey dribbled along his fingers. Then he was spreading her open and pushing inside her, dipping into her hot cavern.
Shit
, she was tight. Like a goddamned vise. She sucked him in on a shared gasp. His thumb found her clit and nudged it slightly, and the desperate howl that seized the air nearly drove him to his knees.
He wanted to taste her, love her pussy with his mouth, flick his tongue over her swollen button and tug and pull until she unwound. But his dick had different ideas. After so long not knowing the inside of a woman, he could barely keep himself from tearing off his pants and impaling her to the wall.
The thought alone was almost too much to handle.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered. Right then she was the loveliest thing he’d ever seen. Razor kissed a pressure point on her throat and pressed another finger to her opening. “You feel incredible.”
“Ahhh…”
Her pussy muscles spasmed and clenched, and then he couldn’t take it. He had to feel her around his cock. Razor slowly withdrew his fingers from her body and smothered a grin when she moaned in protest. “I’m sorry,” he said before dipping the wet digits into his mouth. And damn, his eyes nearly rolled up inside his head.
She tasted…
“What?” Ginny asked, panting. She opened one eye to glare at him.
Razor leaned in and stole a quick kiss. “I can’t go slow,” he explained, lowering his hand to his fly and making quick work of freeing his prick. The steely column of flesh sprang for freedom the second the zipper was lowered, straining toward Ginny’s center.
“What?” she asked again.
Razor took his cock in his hand and neared her, tapping the head against her clit. Her eyes fluttered shut on contact.
“I need to be inside you,” he explained. “Right now.”
“Huh?”
“Let me fuck you, Ginny. Please.”
From the look on her face, he could have gotten her to agree to anything. As it was, her nonverbal consent—another nod—was all he needed. He stripped her panties down her legs and tossed them somewhere near the stage. No more barriers. Just her. Razor gritted his teeth and hiked her in his arms, positioned his dick at her opening, and did his best to suppress a howl when she sank down and swallowed him in warmth.
It had been a long time for her—perhaps almost as long for him. He could tell by the strain of resistance, the way her pussy walls hugged him close. A startled cry rumbled from Ginny’s lips, but he swallowed it with a kiss. A woman had never felt this good. Clenching. Squeezing. Her hips were still for a moment before he pulled out and began to thrust, and then it was all he could do to keep up with her. Every drive into her was a blissful homecoming. Never again would he let himself go so long without knowing this.
“Oh shit,” Razor murmured. He pulled away from the wall, holding her still, and shoved her jacket down her arms. She helped him shake it off, her mouth never leaving his face. He pressed her against the wall again, swirled his hips and slammed inside her. Again. Again.
“Touch me,” Ginny begged. “Please.”
He growled, slipped a hand under her shirt and shoved her bra cup away from her breast, giving his fingers access to her nipple. He squeezed with every thrust, every time his cock pulled away from her pussy before finding its way back inside again. Every time she clenched him. Every time she gasped, but he knew that wasn’t what she really wanted.
“Oh God,” she whimpered. “Oh God.”
Another roar climbed his chest, and before Razor could consider his actions, he had twirled her around, away and they fell on the floor together. He rolled onto his back, Ginny flush against his chest. He coaxed her upright, his eyes at last taking in the sight of her. Her lips swollen from his kisses, her makeup smeared, her hair a tangle of brown knots. Her hips kept rocking, kept pulling. Now he could see his cock, slick from her juices, disappearing in and out of her pink cunt and it was all he could do to keep from coming as if he were a fucking teenager. As if he had never seen a naked woman. As if he had never…
Ginny’s eyes were closed, beads of sweat dancing down her sweet skin. She threw her head back. “This is a dream,” she whispered. “I’m gonna wake up.”
“Not until you scream,” Razor growled, forcing himself to sit up. He wedged a hand between them, his fingertips dancing along her pussy, spreading her wider and then finding her clit again. “I need to come,” he whispered into her ear. “But you need to first. Can you do that? Come for me?”
Ginny sobbed. “Oh God…”
“Come for me,” he said, tapping her clit. “I can taste how close you are. I wanna feel it. Now.”
She moaned, sighed, clenched him so tightly he was sure he would pop. But then he felt her unravel—felt her pussy tighten, felt her body dissolve, felt her muscles milking him into oblivion—and then there was nothing for him to do but follow her over.
So follow her he did.
Ginny had no idea how much time had passed. A few seconds. A couple minutes. A month. Somewhere between reaching a high she’d thought she’d never touch again with someone else and collapsing into a sweaty, gasping mess on Razor’s chest with his softening penis still lodged deep inside her body, she came back to herself. The haze that had settled around her head began to fade, the pleasant buzz ringing in her ears dimming as the world returned to her.
The world where she lived. The world with its safe boundaries, codes and its definite rule against fucking strangers.
And yet here she was. A man she knew only by name resting between her legs, his chest heaving, his hands on her hips and their bodies intimately locked.
Holy fuck, what in the world had she done?
Ginny sat up, blinking rapidly. A wave of dizziness crashed over her. “Oh my God.”
Razor grinned and shifted beneath her. “My thoughts exactly.”
“No, this… Not good. Oh my God. I…” She shook her head and lifted herself off him, wincing when his cock slipped out of her. “I can’t believe I just…”
He sat up, frowning. “I guess I got a little carried away, but—”
Her voice reached shrill. “Carried away?”
“Yeah.” Razor frowned. “What would you call it?”
She opened her mouth to respond but had no words to offer. The part of her desperate to cling to self-preservation wanted to throw the brunt of responsibility squarely on his shoulders and let him drown in it. The part that had taken the longest to heal after Travis left her balled at the corner of the bed, crying and trying to gather what little she had left of herself—yes, that part sat furious and wounded and so freaking confused she could tear her hair out.
Yet for as much as her mind raged, the rest of her had calmed.
She couldn’t blame Razor for what she had asked for—maybe even what she had needed on some level. But that didn’t mean she had to stay here and debate the meaning of a momentary lapse of sanity.
“Nothing,” Ginny responded. She seized her jeans and wiggled into them as quickly as possible. Her shoes and panties were just a few feet away. She’d grab them on the way out. All that was left was to collect her jacket. “I should get going.”
Razor’s frown deepened. “Wait,” he said, scurrying to his feet. He tucked his prick back within his pants and zipped up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“No,” she replied shortly, shrugging into her jacket. It would be easier if her hands could keep from shaking so damn much. “It’s okay. I really need to get going.”
“What did you come here for?”
“I don’t…” Ginny shook her head, trying to chase down the thought process that had carried her feet to Electric Panther. Suddenly, the mystery of how she wound up cozily tucked away in her own bed didn’t seem quite so important. And the fact she had lost her job due to oversleeping was likely a blessing in disguise. The anger and confusion that had guided her had been shoved out the door, replaced now with a swelling sensation of horror and a different sort of confusion.
In the end, it seemed safer to avoid giving answers she didn’t have. And it seemed safer to get the fuck out of Dodge before she did something even dumber than screwing a stranger in a public place.
Something like doing it again.
“Thank you for—uhh…” Ginny winced. She had no idea where she was going with that thought, but it couldn’t be anywhere good. “I mean, that was…fun. Nice, even. I just gotta go now.”
Razor seemed genuinely perplexed, and she didn’t blame him, though she assumed this was just par for the course with him. With the number of girls that threw themselves at his feet every night, finding himself on the receiving end of an awkward “morning after” conversation with a woman he barely knew likely wasn’t the shock it was for her.
At least she guessed. Looking the way he did, he couldn’t be short on bedmates.
And she had just had sex with him.
Unprotected sex.
Ginny stifled a disgusted sob. The shot she got every three months should save her from a pregnancy, but what if he had something? What if he had contracted a disease from his partners or sharing needles? Oh
shit,
how the hell had she let herself do this?
“Please wait,” Razor said, reaching for her arm. “Can we talk? I don’t—”
“No. Talking leads to badness. More badness. Oh God, what have I done?” That last part she hadn’t meant to say aloud—it just happened. Ginny pursed her lips and shook her head, doing her best to compose herself so she didn’t fall on her ass on the way out. The last thing she needed was to lose any more of her dignity than she already had.
Razor drew a step nearer, his body heat nearly scorching her skin. He smelled so good. Woodsy. Masculine. Sweaty now too, and with an added layer of sex. An unwanted, unwarranted wave of heat crashed over her trembling body, forcing her to press her thighs together as her pussy clenched and her clit started screaming for more attention.
Good God, just how sick was she?
“Ginny,” he murmured, far too close for comfort now. If he touched her again, it was all over. Goodbye, self-preservation. Hello, wild abandon. “Please. Just come to the back and talk with me.”
Into the back. In closer quarters than now. No thank you.
“No, I don’t think that’s necessary.”
Razor closed another space between them and her resolve weakened. “I do,” he said softly. “I don’t want you to think—”
A shrill laugh burst through her lips. “Don’t worry. I’m in no danger of thinking.”
“Gin—”
“And thanks, but no thanks. Have a nice life. And bye.”
And without another word, she bolted for the door.
* * * * *
He couldn’t get his mind to shut the fuck up.
This wasn’t anything particularly new for him, granted, but he’d never been faced with the problem of fucking a stranger blind before. No,
that
much was definitely new territory, and Razor was completely out of his element. He was much more content to worry over the ghosts that had nipped at his heels persistently the last few years than introduce new ones.
He honestly had no idea what had come over him. How he’d gone from smirking at the girl to plunging his dick inside her hot, tight pussy. How the reins of control he’d maintained so rigidly since reentering the world had managed to slip from his grasp.
She’d looked so good. Too good. And she’d smelled… He knew she’d wanted it as badly as he had. A wolf’s nose never lied. But wanting it and asking for it were two different things. Razor knew that from experience, though perhaps not as well as others. But hell, he’d had his urges over the years, and he always knew just what to do to keep them under control.
Until her. Ginny.
Why?
Razor steeled himself with a deep breath and knocked on the door to Aria’s office.
“Come in,” came the muffled response.
He pushed the door open and leaned against the frame. Aria was perched on her couch with the schedule spread on a coffee table before her. Her office had a few more of the homey touches than did his, but he suspected it was due to the fact she got more sleep here than she did at home. Those nights when the moon was full, Razor often opted to jail himself in his office on the premises, and though she never admitted it, he knew Aria stayed—behind a safely locked door—just to keep an eye on him.
She was wonderful to him, even when she wasn’t.
Which made his confession all the more difficult.
“I’ve done a bad thing.”