Page 13 of On a Tuesday


  “Stop fucking with me, Charlotte.” He pinned me against the wall with his hips. “We had an agreement.”

  “We once agreed we wouldn’t hurt each other and you broke that promise pretty easily, so I guess we’re even now.”

  “Six hours.”

  “I’m not sorry,” I said, ignoring the frantic racing of my heart. “But if you give me another six months or so, I can consider meeting with you to take random trips down memory lane. You’ll have to fill in a lot of the blanks for me, though.”

  “You don’t remember?” His lips brushed against mine and every nerve in my body came to life.

  “I only remember the ending.”

  “Nothing about what we had before that?” He hissed.

  “No. Nothing we had was that memorable. We were young.”

  We stared at each other, not saying a word. Within seconds his mouth was on mine, and my arms were around his neck.

  He tore open my robe exposing my naked body and lifted me up by my thighs, forcing me to wrap my legs around his waist. I moaned as I fought for control of the kiss, as he fought back with rough and demanding bites of my bottom lip.

  His cock hardened against me, and I reached down to free it from his sweatpants. He briefly tore his mouth away from mine and kissed my neck, biting my skin as I massaged him with my hand.

  Returning to kissing me recklessly, he let me down onto the floor and tore open a condom before putting it on. He glared at me, looking hurt and angry all at once.

  “Put your legs around my waist,” he commanded, lifting me up again. I obliged and he thrust his cock inside of me with one stroke—stretching and filling me deep.

  Moaning, I closed my eyes and tried to adjust to his length, he didn’t give me the chance. He pulled back and pounded into me again and again.

  “You don’t remember this?” he said, fucking me harder.

  His eyes never