What followed was elemental. Eva's back arched impossibly off the table, her fingers scraping the wood as sparks of sensation exploded through her. Stars, galaxies bloomed behind her eyelids.
"Fuuuuuck!!!" she screamed.
Alex's tongue danced over her, teasing, claiming, coaxing cries she hadn't realized she could make. She felt herself unravel, her body betraying her in the best possible way, her muscles clenching and releasing in chaotic waves. Every nerve ending was alight, every thought reduced to one primal sensation: him.
Her body jerked again and again, a symphony of involuntary movements that left her breathless, sticky, trembling. She had never known anything so consuming, so overwhelmingly intimate, so devastatingly pure in its lust and need.
Still, he didn't relent. Not until her body quaked with tremors, breaths coming in ragged, uneven bursts, and her thighs twitched uncontrollably from the aftershocks that racked her.
Finally, he stood. His eyes glimmered with raw hunger, his chest heaving, mouth glistening from their shared fervor. Without a word, he shoved his pants down in a single, impatient motion, revealing himself fully. The sight—strong, eager, unabashed—made her breath hitch, her pulse thundering.
Eva's eyes widened slightly, her lower lip caught between her teeth in anticipation and fear. "Alex…" she breathed.
He lined himself up then entered her in one deep, glorious stroke.
"Fuuuuck…" he groaned, a growl of satisfaction and worship, his hands gripping her thighs. "You feel… nice."
"Nice? Seriously? That's the word you're going with?"
He thrust again, harder, and she yelped, pleasure shooting upward. Every nerve ending screamed with need, every thought reduced to sensation.
Her mind spun, chaos and lust colliding in dizzying patterns. How had she gone from mourning the past—grieving a life stolen, a son missing, a love betrayed—to this? Here she was, ravaged across her breakfast table by a man she barely knew, yet whose presence made her body forget every caution she'd clung to for years.
Was it too fast? Absolutely. But speed didn't matter here. Not when his hands, mouth, and body had learned the language of her skin in the blink of a single, fevered moment.
Did she care right now? Fuck, no. Every nerve screamed for him, every fiber of her body demanded release. His lips brushed along her collarbone, whispering things that made her toes curl and her brain melt into fog, and Eva had to remind herself she even knew her own name.
She would analyze this later. Probably hate herself a little. She could picture the judgment, the self-loathing, the guilty rewinds that would torture her in private. But for now… now she let go completely.
And let him take her all the way there.
He moved within her. Each angle, each stroke was wild. His hands tangled in her hair, held her hips firm, and coaxed out noises she'd never let herself make before.
Her back arched over the surface of the breakfast table, breasts swaying with every deep thrust, a soundless scream locked behind parted lips. She could feel the taut muscles of his chest and the heat of his body as they collided, as if their pulses were syncing with an urgency neither of them could deny.
There she was—laid out bare on her own table, legs curled around a man she barely knew, suspended in a delirium of need that made the rest of the world meaningless. Her body forgot scandal, gossip, and the shame of false stories; it only remembered this—the pure, unrelenting sensation of being claimed.
A fleeting, wicked laugh escaped her between moans, a sharp reminder of irony. The world saw her as a disgraced ex-media personality, branded with rumors that had nothing to do with her reality. Most gossip blogs had even labeled her a closeted lesbian. Yet here, stripped of pretense, shame, and control, she could barely care.
This was hers to live—and to feel—with every nerve ignited.
She tightened her legs around Alex's waist instinctively, pulling him impossibly closer.
"Shit!" Alex grunted. "Fuck, Eva…"
The rhythm shifted, rougher, more urgent. Sweat dripped down his temple, sliding onto her chest and mingling with the sheen of her own exertion. Every thrust pushed them higher, closer to some untamed, impossible peak.
And then, with a final, shattering motion, they both cried out—voices tangled with moans, hearts slamming, bodies screaming against the raw delight that ripped through them.
When the world finally stilled, Alex's forehead rested on her shoulder, chest heaving, while Eva blinked at the ceiling, trying to catch her scattered thoughts amid the thunderous beating of her heart.
*****
Eva scrambled for her underwear, fumbling in a haze of trembling fingers, hair sticking in wild strands against her sweat-slicked neck. She yanked on her shirt with clumsy urgency and shuffled near the fridge, her gaze darting around the room, deliberately avoiding him.
Alex, by contrast, moved with infuriating composure, sliding his pants up with an almost casual ease, leaving her blinking in disbelief.
What the actual hell had they just done?
"Please…" Alex said, a half-smile playing on his lips as he leaned casually against the counter. "Don't look like you regret it."
Eva's head snapped up, eyes wide, heart still hammering.
"It was a good fuck," Alex said casually, as if discussing weather instead of the hurricane they'd just survived on her kitchen table.
"I… I didn't say it wasn't good," she murmured, running a trembling hand through her tangled hair. "It was… great, actually. Amazing. But I just—I've never done anything this reckless before." Her chest rose and fell rapidly, pulse hammering in her throat. This wasn't her.
Alex stepped closer. "We only live once, honey," he said, a cocky grin attempting bravado. "Might as well embrace truly living."
His fingers brushed her jaw, tilting her face toward him. He leaned in, lips hovering just shy of hers—but Eva jerked her head away at the last second, leaving only the ghost of his warmth brushing her cheek.
"Don't," she whispered. "Please."
Alex blinked at her refusal. He let his hands fall slowly to his sides.