Neither of us speaks. I stare out the window of the cab, my fingers pressed to my lips, watching the endless parade of buildings and people. A car honks in the distance accompanied by the screech of tires against asphalt. The sounds of the city are a low buzz in my ears. All the while, my concentration is fixed on the press of Christos’s solid frame against mine, the heat of his body warming my skin, the feel of his attention focused on me.

His large palm comes to rest on my bare leg and I about jump out of my skin at the contact. He squeezes, shifting closer, his fingers brushing the inside of my knee. He strokes. Toys. Dallies in a spot I’d never thought was sensitive until every brush of his fingers against my skin makes my cunt clench. My nipples bead so tight, the sensation almost painful it’s so keen.

I feel like Michelle Pfeiffer in The Age of Innocence, in the back of that carriage as Daniel Day-Lewis slowly unbuttons the catch of her white glove and plays over the pulse in her wrist.

One innocent touch capable of creating so much havoc.

I’m sure Christos can hear the pounding of my heart, which beats so hard and so fast, I can feel it between my legs. Pulsing and throbbing for attention. Need so acute I don’t know how to handle it as it strums through me.

It’s pure agony.

A tiny gasp escapes my throat and he seems to understand because his gentle touches still. Heat sears me as he drops his lips to the shell of my ear. “Shh, it’s okay, I’ll take care of you.”

A couple of weeks ago, that statement would have been met with claws, but instead I dig my nails into the purse clutched tightly in my lap and don’t say a word.

His fingers move higher. My skirt slides up my bare thigh. I glance nervously in the rearview mirror, expecting to see the eyes of the cabbie on us, but to my surprise, he seems not to be paying any attention as his hands beat against the steering wheel in time to the music.

It’s odd to be in so much turmoil, wrapped in so much lust, and have it be oblivious to the stranger in the front seat.

“Don’t worry about him.” Christos nips at the lobe of the ear. “Open for me.”

In response, my legs clamp tightly together and he chuckles—a low, wicked sound that sends another surge of wetness between my legs.

“Look at me,” he says in a tone so soft and yet so commanding.

I have no choice but to obey.

Slowly I turn to meet his eyes, almost frightened by what I’ll see.

His gaze is hot, filled with passion. “Open.”

I do. My thighs part and his fingers stroke up my skin. I swallow hard when he touches the soft, plump curve of my inner thigh, but instead of moving higher as I expect, he starts that relentless playing again.

Our gazes lock as he circles his fingers over my flesh.

Again and again and again.

My pulse beats wild and erratic in my throat, matching the squeezing pull of my pussy that wants his hard cock. His fingers. His mouth. Anything he will give me. I’m desperate with greed. Sweat beads at my temples as I clench my teeth, my hands clasp so tight on my purse I’m sure I’ll gouge the leather.

His breath has also quickened, and I sense the strain in his body as he keeps up his playing. Out of nowhere a sharp stab of pleasure makes me bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out. Shocked, my eyes widened as I realize I’m close to orgasm. My mind rejects the idea as impossible, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s true.

I’m coiled so tight, my cunt throbbing, need spiraling higher and higher until I’m on the verge of exploding, and all he’s done is touch my leg while he stares into my eyes.

The intensity frightens me and I start to move back. Suddenly he has a vise grip on my leg.

“No.” The word a hard, harsh sound on his lips. “I want it all, Juliet. You will not hide from me.”

“But—” I say, only to be cut off by a brutal kiss that’s over too quickly.

With the hand not stroking my quivering inner thigh, he pries my fingers off my purse and presses my palm to his cock. He’s hard, his erection like steel through his jeans. “This is how it is with us. There’s nothing we can do but give in.”

I wrap my hand around his shaft as best I can. He presses his forehead into mine and mutters a low, “Jesus.”

All I want is to feel that satin-smooth skin on my hand. Bare. Naked. No barrier. I circle the head of his cock like he circled my inner thigh, and his eyes close. “It’s hard to make a point here with you doing that.”

And with that, my fear ebbs away. It’s exactly what I need to hear. This thing between us that I refuse to name, it’s okay as long as he’s there with me.

In this moment, I believe he is.

The car sways to a stop, throwing both of us off balance. I glance out the window, almost surprised to find us in front of my red-bricked townhome.

From the front seat the driver says, “Twelve fifty.”

Christos shifts to lean back on the black vinyl seat, cracked from age and overuse, and I huddle against the door. He lifts his hips to withdraw a folded stack of bills. As he rifles through the money, nerves kicked in.

He pulls me from the taxi, his grip sure and strong, comforting in my sudden distress. Before I can gain solid footing, he’s yanking me up the stairs, practically running. I fumble after him, my head swimming with lust and fear.

A heel catches on a crack and I stumble, using the concrete banister to catch myself. Breathless, I yell, “Christos.”

He freezes, looking back at me over one shoulder, a frown on his lips. Suddenly, he shakes his head as though clearing it from a daze and rakes his hand through his hair.

“Fuck.” He walks back down the two steps and holds out his palm. “Give me your keys.”

“I’ve got it.” I start to rummage through my purse, finding them shoved in the bottom corner.

Before I can speak he plucks the set from my fingers and splays the keys out like a deck of cards. “Which one?”

I point to the middle one.

With a nod, he takes a deep breath that fills his chest and slowly exhales before he cups my chin. With infinite care, he dips his head and brushes my mouth with his.

It’s like kindle burst into flames.

I think he’d meant it to be a gentle, calming kiss, although I can’t be sure. One second his lips are soft against mine and the next our mouths are crushed together. A hard, brutal bruising of lips and tongue and teeth that has me clutching at his shirt and his fingers digging into my hips.

Right out on my front stairs, we go at each other as if we were victims of starvation who’d been presented with a feast. Hot, primal noises escape our throats to mingle in the air as we fight our way up the steps while refusing to break contact.

I arch into him, and when my skirt gets in the way of what I want most, I beat my fists on his chest. He wraps his arms around me, so tight I can’t breathe, as he lifts me up another step, our mouths still frantic.

Demanding. Consuming.

I can’t stop.

We make it to the landing. I have no conscious idea of how he manages to unlock my door and push me inside, but he does.

My foyer swings around me as he presses me up against the first available wall. Buttons fly everywhere as he rips my blouse like it’s a piece of flimsy paper. My fingers find the buckle of his belt and I fumble on the clasp, my hands shaking with need. I finally get it undone and slide down the zipper as he yanks my skirt up over my hips. When I reach for his cock, he pushes my hand away, instead shifting his knees to rock his erection between my legs. My cunt spasms and I grip his shoulders for support.

All the while we never break the kiss.

We groan into each other’s mouth at the contact.

At the friction.

My fantasies don’t come close to the passion between us.

The raw hunger.

The pounding desire.

The brutal lust.

Hands fly. Bodies strain and twist. Mouths and tongues meet and twine. Fuse together and refuse to part.

He hooks my knee on his hip and fumbles into his pocket.

The crinkle of foil sounds on the air as he rips open the condom. I drop my knee, twisting to move out of his way. His knuckles brush over my wet panties, and I jerk as the pleasure spikes.

Yes. Jesus, his touch. It’s so good. So right. I want more. Now.

I’d thought I’d been wild with lust before, but something breaks inside me and I go mad. I try to climb up him. In him. Passion consuming me with a heady haze so I forget everything.

I forget to be scared, to be nervous.

Forget to think about how I look or if my stomach rolls.

I forget to hold back.

Everything spirals out of control until we are almost fighting each other in an effort to get closer. I yank at his shirt. Our mouths cease contact for a fraction of a second as he helps me pull it off before his lips are back on mine.

He flicks open the front clasp of my bra, ripping away the cups to free me. His thumb brushes over my nipple for one second before he crushes his chest against them so my breasts flatten against his solid strength. I hiss at the contact. My nipples scrape along the fine hairs.

I scratch his back with my nails.

He tears my panties clear from my body.

I reach between us and wrap my fingers around his cock that actually seems to swell even harder beneath my touch. I guide him to the wet, slippery folds and he slams into me. With the shock of his entry, I cry out, the sound lost in my throat.

The orgasm rips through me as my muscles contract around him, eliciting a growl.

He pulls out and plunges back in.

Powerful waves of pleasure storm through me as he pounds into my body.

He doesn’t let up.

He drives into me harder and harder. Faster and faster. Over and over. Allowing me no recovery from the orgasm still rocking through me. The pulsing contractions never stop, only coil tighter until I come again, convulsing so hard around his cock it’s almost painful.

My second climax triggers his own. The force of it slams through me as if I’m connected to him on some visceral level. My mouth catches his shout of release and he rides me until he’s deeper inside me than anyone has ever been before.

Strangely, I’m reminded of the storm in the photograph in my office. That whipping of wind, the pelting of rain, the release of all that thunder and lightning in the sky, and I wish there were a way to capture this feeling, but how can I?

It’s indescribable and absolutely beautiful in its violence.

We slump against each other. He holds me up, bracing me against the wall as our breathing calms and the kiss gentles.

He’s given me what I’d wanted, what I’d asked for.

He’s fucked me. Possessed me. Filled me up.

And his mouth never left mine.