Pinning me against the wall

Rebecca's POV

Breakfast ended in a blur of hollow small talk. My dad announced he was going upstairs to shower and change before the golf course. Mark nodded casually, telling him he’d wait in the living room. But his eyes told a different story. They locked onto mine the second my father’s footsteps creaked up the stairs.

He didn’t say a word, he just stood up, walked toward the living room and disappeared around the corner. My mom was washing dishes at the sink, her back turned to me. She was humming a tune, completely oblivious to the war raging inside my chest.

I knew I shouldn’t go. My dad was upstairs. The water would run for at least ten minutes and that was all the time in the world. My legs moved before my brain could stop them and i slipped into the living room.

Mark was standing by the window, his back to me, but he heard my footsteps. He turned slowly, a dangerous smirk pulling at his lips. He reached out, grabbed my wrist, and tugged me into the hallway, not the guest room.

His car was still parked in the driveway, but through the glass door at the back, there was a small enclosed patio. He pulled me through the door, closing it softly behind us. The patio was shaded by a massive oak tree, completely hidden from the neighbors.

"Isn't this crazy?" I whispered, my breath already shaking.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he spun me around, pressing my back against the cool brick wall of the house. His body crashed into mine, caging me in. His hands were already on my hips, gripping the fabric of my sundress, bunching it up around my thighs.

"You can still tell me if you don't want this” he growled, his voice low and husky.

I stared into his dark eyes. This same man who had kissed and wrecked me last night. I shook my head, my fingers curling into the front of his polo shirt.

"Stop talking," I breathed.

He didn't need to be told twice.

His mouth crashed down on mine. It was hungry, desperate, tasting of black coffee and mint. His tongue swept inside, claiming me, and my body arched into him. I could feel his rigid erection pressing against my stomach through his shorts. He was already hard.

He broke the kiss, trailing his lips down my neck, biting at my collarbone. My head fell back against the brick, a soft whimper escaping my lips.

"Shhh," he murmured against my skin. "Do you want to bring your dad down here? You want him to see you like this?"

The thought sent a bolt of pure electricity straight to my core. I clamped my mouth shut, biting my bottom lip hard enough to taste copper. His hands slid up my thighs, pushing the dress higher and exposing the thin lace of my panties. He looked down at me, his gaze dark and possessive.

"These should come off," he ordered.

I reached down, hooking my fingers into the waistband. He stood there watching me, his chest heaving, as I slid them down my legs and stepped out of them, tossing them onto a nearby patio chair. Then he pulled down his own shorts. His cock sprang free, thick and heavy, already glistening at the tip. My mouth watered. I reached out, wrapping my fingers around his shaft, stroking him slowly.

"Fuck," he hissed, his eyes fluttering shut for just a second.

He grabbed my hand, pulling it away, then he lifted my right leg, hooking it over his hip. I was completely exposed to him, pressed against the rough brick, the morning air cool against my wet heat.

"Look at you," he whispered, his thumb finding my clit. He circled it, pressing down and making me gasp. "So fucking ready for me. You're dripping."

He didn't tease me long. He positioned the head of his cock at my entrance, holding my gaze.

"Keep your eyes on me," he said. "I want to watch your face when I fill you up."

He pushed forward.

I bit down on my lip hard as he entered me inch by inch. He was thick, stretching me, and the burn was exquisite. He drove all the way in until I felt the soft, dark curls of his groin press against my thighs. We were completely joined. My breath became in ragged. He stayed still for a moment, letting me adjust, his forehead pressed against mine.

Then, he moved.

This wasn't the frantic, reckless pace of last night. It was something else entirely. He thrust into me slowly, deliberately, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in. Each impact drove me harder against the wall. I reached up, wrapping my arms around his neck to steady myself.

"Harder," I whimpered, barely a whisper.

He shook his head, a wicked grin on his face. "No. Not yet."

He brought his hand down, pressing his thumb against my clit again, rubbing tight, steady circles as he continued his deep and torturous pace. My hips bucked against him, desperate for more.

"I want you to come apart on my cock," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of our ragged breathing and the wet slapping of our bodies. "Right here, with your dad taking a shower thirty feet away."

Those words undid me. The taboo, the danger, the sheer forbidden thrill of it, it all crashed down on me at once. My vision went white, my inner walls clenched violently around him, rippling and pulsing as an orgasm ripped through my body.

I cried out, but clamped my hand over my mouth, muffling the sound. My body shook against him, and my leg trembling on his hip. Mark groaned, a deep sound from his chest. He drove into me once, twice more, and then I felt him, his hot, thick spurts flooding my core as he followed me over the edge. He buried his face in my neck, his body tense as he emptied himself into me.

We stayed like that for a long moment, panting, our bodies slick with sweat. He gently lowered my leg, and I slumped against the wall, my legs weak and shaking. He pulled out slowly, and I felt the trickle of his release slide down my inner thigh. He looked down at the mess between us, a dark, satisfied look in his eyes.

"I love watching you fall apart," he murmured, pulling his shorts back up.

I bent down and picked up my panties, shoving them into the pocket of my dress. I couldn't put them back on, they would be soaked anyway. I smoothed down my dress, praying it didn't look too rumpled.

Mark ran a hand through his disheveled hair, stepping back to look at me. He smiled, pure cocky arrogance.

"Ready for golf?"

I stared at him, my chest heaving. I felt like I was floating high on a mix of adrenaline and pleasure.

"Give me two minutes," I said, my voice hoarse.

He chuckled, opening the door back into the house. Just then, the bathroom faucet upstairs shut off. My father's heavy footsteps echoed on the hardwood floor. Mark walked back to the living room, grabbed his cap, and turned to me with a wink as my dad came bounding down the stairs.

"You kids ready to lose some money?" my dad shouted, rubbing his hands together.

I smiled, my body still aching, my thighs still wet.

"Absolutely," I said, my voice steady. "I'm ready for a very long afternoon."