My lungs empty as I exhale. Nerves rise up in my stomach. My heart thuds against my chest.

It is freeing asking for exactly what I want.

He presses his fingertips into the back of my head. "After you come on my hand."

Warmth spreads through my cheeks and chest. "Here?" I blink my eyes open, suddenly acutely aware of every single person in the room. At least thirty. Maybe more.

"Here." Pete plays with the hem of my skirt as he sucks on my earlobe.

"What if someone sees?" A shudder runs down my spine as his fingertips brush my thigh. I'm quickly losing interest in potential consequences.

"Won't let that happen."

He pushes my panties aside.

But he doesn't touch me. Not yet.

My thighs shake with anticipation. I need him touching me. It's terrifying how badly I need him touching me.

I nod a yes. Mumble some collection of vowels that doesn't sound anything like a word.

His expression gets intense. He wants this as badly as I do.

Yes. Here. Now. A deep breath pushes my anxiety aside. I care more about him touching me than I do about the consequences.

I spread my legs wider. He slips his hand into my panties, his fingers skimming my sex.

Yes. I sigh with relief.

"Lift your hips," he whispers.

I do. His eyes fix on mine as he pulls my panties to my knees.

My sex clenches. I need to do something to contain myself or I'm going to scream all sorts of things. I untuck his button up shirt. Then my hands are under it, my palms against the hard muscles of his stomach.

His free hand goes to my wrist. He drags my hand to his knee. Then up, up, up, until I'm cupping him over his jeans.

He's hard.

"Keep it there." He groans as his fingers skim my sex. "Close your eyes."

This time, I don't object. I want what he's offering. I want all my senses tuned to him. I want every other thought erased.

My eyelids press together. The sounds of the room—the guitar, the trumpet, the conversation—blur into white noise. Our breath comes into focus. His is smooth. Mine is strained.

He groans against my neck as he slides his thumb over my clit.

God yes.

I shift, leaning towards him, turning my back to the room. I'm defenseless. No way to tell if someone is approaching. If we're going to get caught.

I trust him to make sure that doesn't happen.

It's terrifying how much I trust him.

He strokes me. I kiss him. Rub my palm against his erection. The jeans are in the way.

His touch gets harder. Harder. There. It's perfect. I bring both my hands to his shoulders and tug at his crisp black shirt. The fabric catches between my fingers. It's soft. It's practically magnetic.

Pete groans into my mouth.

I groan back, sucking on his tongue as the tension in my core knots tighter and tighter. There isn't a single part of me that wants to hold back.

His next stroke pushes me over the edge. I dig my nails into his skin as I come. My orgasm is intense. I shudder. I barely manage to keep from screaming.

His deep brown eyes fix on me, watching me like I'm a masterpiece.

I hold his gaze for as long as I can. It does something to me. Makes it hard to keep track of my breath.

When I finally get a handle on the whole inhale exhale thing, his lips curl into a smile.

That's the only thing in the universe that matters, his smile.

My heart thuds against my chest. I'm not sure which way is up or down. I can't mix things up. This is sex, no feelings besides desire.

I can't fall for him.

No matter how sweet he is under the don't give a damn exterior, I can't fall for Pete Steele.

My heart can't survive being torn in half again.

He scoops me into his lap. His expression shifts, back to desire. His hands go to my hips, adjusting our positions so I can feel his erection.

Damn, I'm actually considering mounting him right here, in the club, in front of all these people.

My thoughts go straight to my tongue, no stopover in the inhibition part of my brain.

"Can we go back to your place?" I ask.

"Yes." He pulls twenty dollars from his wallet and drops it on the table. "But I don't want to wait until we're back at my place."

* * *

He only waits a minute and a half, until we're through the back door, in the empty alley.

His hands go to my hips. In one swift movement, he pins me to the wall. It's late, dark, not the best part of town.

None of that matters.

Tomorrow doesn't matter. Potential heartbreak doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is our bodies joining, Pete erasing every heavy thought in my brain.

He's not delicate this time. He nearly rips the zipper as he tugs my dress to my waist.

Immediately, his eyes go to my chest. "You have amazing tits."

"Really?"

"Uh-huh."

My cheeks flush. "I always thought they were a little small."

"No. They're perfect. And this." He slides his thumb into my bra and rubs my nipple until I'm groaning. "That's the best fucking music I've heard in a long time."

My thank you is messy grunt of vowels.

His hips press against mine. I can feel him, how hard he is, how big he is. I arch my hips so my clit rubs against his cock. His jeans and my dress are in the way, but the friction is enough to send shivers up my spine.

"This is a habit for you," I breathe. "Fucking in public."

"You're not going to convince me you don't like it." He drags his fingers over my sex. "You're still dripping."

Breath flees my body.

I gasp as he slips a finger inside me. God, it's such a tease. I need him filling me.

I need him. Period.

His voice is low, deep, in-control. "You want me to fuck you against the wall or from behind?"

"Against the wall."

My cheeks flush. I actually said that. I actually told him how I want him to fuck me.

I'm actually having sex in public.

He pulls a condom from his pocket and unzips his jeans. His eyes meet mine, this intense look that says yes.

He leans down to take my nipple into his mouth. His eyes stay on mine as he flicks his tongue against me.

Lust shoots straight to my core. I groan. When that's not enough, I let his name fall off my lips.

I do away with my bra. My chest is on display to him, to anyone who happens to walk by the alley for a smoke or a phone call.

God help me, the thought spurs me on.

"Please." I squeeze his shoulders. "Please fuck me."

He presses his palm against my hip, pinning me to the wall. "Not yet. Want to savor this."

He pushes his boxers to his feet. I watch with rapt attention as he unwraps the condom and slides it onto his cock.

He's huge.

His hands go to my ass. He holds me against the wall, the weight of his body sinking into mine. "Wrap your legs around me."

He shifts his hands under my thighs to help me. There. My thighs strain as I squeeze his waist, pulling him closer.

Pete's eyes stay glued to mine as he shifts our bodies together. His cock nudges against my sex. I exhale deeply. It's a tease. It's not enough.

I stare back at him, pleading with my eyes.

He teases again.

Again.

Again.

I can't take it anymore. My need overpowers my shyness. "Please, Pete. I need you inside me."

His eyes go wide.

God, I love the look on his face. I take a deep breath. This time, it doesn't take much to get the words to my tongue. "Deep inside me. So deep I can barely bring myself to say your name."

He pins me to the wall. His eyes stay glued to mine as he slides inside me.

More, more, more. Then he's so damn deep I can barely breathe.

He slows, watching my reactions, waiting until my chest heaves with a steady inhale.

It's right, our bodies connected.

It's the most right thing in the history of the universe.

Still, I need him closer. One of my hands slides around his neck, to the back of his head. The other goes to his shoulder, under the soft fabric of his shirt.

His eyes stay glued to mine as he nudges deeper. Deeper. I squeeze him tighter, arching my back, spreading my legs.

My last hint of inhibition falls away.

He groans as he goes deeper. "Mmm. Jess." His nails are hard against the soft flesh of my ass. "You feel fucking good."

He presses me against the wall as he slides into me.

It's slow. I can feel my sex stretching to take him deeper, enveloping him. God, he feels good. I tug at his hair. No shyness. "You're huge."

He nods. No ego. Just an acknowledgment of facts.

His eyes are glued to mine. His voice is attentive. "Stop me if it's too much."

Slowly, he shifts out, so I can just barely feel him. He does it again. Again. Again.

Pete Steele is a hell of a tease.

My eyelids drift together. I'm dizzy with lust. I can't think. Can't do anything but feel his cock driving into me.

My body moves on its own. My thighs squeeze his hips. My hands go to his chest, tugging at the buttons of his shirt. There, one down. Then the next. The next. Three. Two. One.

I push the shirt to his shoulders, exploring every inch of his chest.

My sex clenches as he thrusts into me. It's hard. Deep. I feel full. Like our bodies are meant for each other.

I lose myself in the pleasure building between my legs. I arch my back so my clit presses against his pubic bone. The sounds of the street—- the traffic, the conversations outside the club, the music—fade until all I can hear is his heavy exhale, our flesh connecting as he thrusts into me.

Again.

Again.

Again.

An orgasm rises up inside me. Almost. I bring my hands back to his shoulders, holding tight.

I've never come from penetration before.

But I'm almost there.

Like last time, my body knows what it wants better than I do. My fingers dig into his shoulders. My back curls, my shoulders pressing against the wall, my hips shifting towards his.

He's watches my reactions, moving in time with my grunts and moans. It's like he knows what I want before I do.

His hands stay tight around my hips, pinning me in place so he can work his magic.

Harder. Deeper.

Oh.

That's exactly where I need him. I dig my fingers into his skin, groaning his name.

"Don't stop," I breathe.

He grunts something totally incomprehensible. His lids are heavy. He's close. But he’s still so fucking attentive.

My sex clenches. Almost. The bare skin of his chest presses against my mine. I soak in every inch of him I have.

It blurs together, like beautiful music, until my entire existence is pleasure. My eyes roll back in my head. My lips part.

"Pete," I groan. I see white. The entire world is this lovely shade of white, nothing but the blinding light of bliss as my sex clenches tighter and tighter and tighter.

One more thrust and all that tension unwinds. It spills through me. My sex pulses around him, pulling him closer.

"Pete," I groan it again. Again. Again.

He brings his hand to my chest and toys with my nipples.

Pleasure shoots to my core. He's playing me like an instrument, like he knows my body better than I do.

He rubs my nipple with his thumb. "Tell me when to stop."

I don't want him to stop. I'm sensitive enough this aches, but I don't want him to stop.

Words make it to my tongue without passing through my brain. "I want to come again. With you."

My chest feels light. Free.

It is exhilarating asking for what I want.

He plays me perfectly. I lose track of everything but the sounds of his groans. The way his chest shakes against mine. The weight of his body as he presses me against the wall.

He thrusts harder. Deeper. His cock pulses. His lips part with a heavy groan.

His pubic bone makes for the perfect amount of friction.

"Fuck, Jess." His hand goes to my hair, pulling me against him. His lips press into my neck. A soft kiss. Then harder. Harder.

Then his groans are sending vibrations down my chest.

My sex clenches. The sound of his pleasure is enough to push me to the edge. With his next thrust, I see all that perfect white light. I come again.

No holding back. I scream his name.

Then he's there, one hand knotting in my hair, the other holding my body against his.

"Jess." He lets out a low, heavy groan.

There. I can feel him come, even with the condom.

It does something to me, hearing my name on his tongue, feeling his pleasure.

It's different than with Nathan. Better. A million times better.

Pete holds me against the wall. He presses his lips against my neck and shoulder.

We stay tangled as our breath returns to normal.