On the Edge (The Grange Complex Book 1) novel Chapter 16

Dexter

Good girl, my ass. She was a fucking tease, pretending that she didn’t know what she was doing to me in the sauna. I wanted to see if she liked the challenge. The neighbours, my reputation—I didn’t fucking care. I wanted her and I was prepared to take a risk.

Staring straight back at her innocent wide eyes, I was done with being the other Dexter. 

She was panting, bending over to catch her breath; she must have run all the way up the stairs. It was good that she was taking me seriously. I grabbed her by the elbow and dragged her back to our joined corridor, pushing her against the wall. Her towel fell on the floor and my eyes took in her impressive rack in a wet swimming costume. Her tight little nipples created a fire deep in my groin, awakening hunger for more. I had thought that I could take control, but seeing her like this had crushed whatever resistance I had left within me.

“We aren’t having sex here—”

“You lost, so you have nothing to say, Barbie,” I snapped and dug my lips into her neck, pressing my cock down between her legs to her entrance. It was fucking bliss. I just couldn’t think straight when she was around. She had her head arched away, exposing her neck to me, breathing heavily. This wasn’t right, but it felt fucking amazing.

“Dexter, someone might see us here.”

“I can smell your desire, baby, so drop this good-girl attitude and let me fuck you. This will be quick and you have to keep your mouth shut,” I warned and bit her earlobe. She hissed. My cock throbbed, digging inside her entrance. Her swimming suit was blocking the way to that moist irresistible pleasure.

I had a feeling that this wouldn’t shut her up, so I grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. It was a huge risk taking her here on our floor, but it was exciting and I loved being in total control.

She mumbled something when I dragged her bikini bottom down. Her ass was right in front of my cock. I kicked her legs apart, stroking my hard shaft, licked my fingers and then ran them over her slick sex.

I didn’t want to give her time to think about it when she shuddered. My hands were on her hips as I lined my dick up to her entrance and shoved my full length inside her as hard as I could. She moaned loudly and my head spun. I could listen to that fucking sound all day long. 

“Fuck, Sasha, you feel better than the first time,” I growled, pulling her hair so she arched closer to my face.

“Yes, yes, so much better,” she sighed.   

I started to move inside her, losing control of how fast I was going. My hips were pushing and before I fucking knew it, she was screaming. My skin was burning, my pulse speeding as pounded my cock into her wetness. She was moaning loudly, arching her hips to me. Fast and aggressive, I didn’t want to fucking stop.

I wiped the sweat off my forehead, feeling as if my body was slowly coming apart, but I didn’t slow down. 

“How do you like this, Barbie? Too fast for you?” I panted, losing my fucking mind. She was coming undone for me, her wet pussy pulsing and tightening around my cock. Sasha was loud, shouting words that didn’t make any fucking sense.

I bit on her shoulder as I came, filling her up with my hot, sticky semen. It was like all my Christmases had come at once. I was taking in long pulls of air, my heart thumping deep in my chest. I pulled away from her and then slapped her ass. 

She looked at me, eyes glazed over, and I laughed. She was the hottest pussy I could ever remember having. There were women at parties, in offices, clubs and bars. I needed sex to push the deadly voices in my head away.

Sasha was fucked, literally and physically, so I picked her up and strolled inside my apartment. No, I wasn’t done with her yet, but I was fucking starving. That was just my starter; I still wanted a main course.

I slammed the door, expecting a phone call from the concierge at any minute. All the neighbours had probably heard her screams. Fuck, I had to stop making life difficult for myself.

“That was awesome, but you didn’t have to fuck me in the corridor. We could have made it to the apartment,” Sasha said. She was putting her wet bikini bottoms back on when I came out of the bedroom dressed in a t-shirt and black trousers. I lifted my arms and stretched.

“It was necessary to teach you a lesson. Next time you won’t even make it to the stairs,” I said with a wink, and went to the kitchen. The cleaner was coming tomorrow afternoon, and shit was lying everywhere. I hated tidying up. 

“So how does this normally work? Do women leave after sex or do you make them stay?” she asked standing behind me, her hair all ruffled and sexy. The deep red flush on her cheeks was a total turn-on. She didn’t look nervous being around me and she wasn’t scared. For some reason, I didn’t want her to leave just yet. 

“Do you have to be anywhere?” I asked casually, pulling some vegetables out of the fridge. 

“My pole-dancing lesson starts at seven,” she said, moving around the kitchen. My imagination started to go wild just thinking about her body moving around the pole. Fuck, I was just inside her. How could someone get me worked up so fast?

“Stay and I’ll make us some dinner.”

“All right. I like hanging out in your place.”

For the next hour I was busy preparing food. My women normally visited me in the evening, after six. We fucked, made small talk, and they were out by eleven. Some of them stayed for the night, but that happened rarely. I thought it might feel weird with Sasha, but the conversation between us flowed. I told her more stuff about Joey, asked her some questions about her life in London. By five, dinner was ready and I was having fun watching her eating my pasta dish. She seemed impressed by my culinary skills.

“I wasn’t expecting that you could cook,” she muttered, crossing the fork and spoon on her plate. It baffled me that I had a blonde woman in my apartment, eating my food.

“I guess I’m just full of surprises,” I chuckled.

“Do you know what you’re going to do about the supermodel brunette?” she asked, getting up and taking out the plates.

“The supermodel brunette?”

“Your fiancée,” she said sarcastically, walking back to the kitchen.