Witness by Rosalie Stanton Page A

sent her back rocking against the wall, and would have hurt—maybe—if it had occurred to her to mind. All she cared about was that he was inside her again, and again, and again, pumping hot and hard into her pussy. The rhythm he established was fast and brutal, a culmination of so many things.
    Fuck it.
    Serenity anchored her left arm around his neck and tilted his face up to hers with her other hand, ignoring the throb in her shoulder. He stabbed his cock inside her with deep, measured thrusts, the material of his jeans chafing her inner thighs. The impact of his body slamming against hers made her heart ricochet in her chest, but she loved it.
    When Dash met her eyes, the storm clouds she saw there threatened to break her, but didn’t. He looked so torn—hot as all hell, his nostrils flared, his eyes blazing, his lips parted as he panted with exertion, but torn all the same. As though she was the one with the power, the one who had him to the wall.
    Watching him as he fucked her—the adult who had taken the place of her childhood friend—had her unwinding on a different level. Serenity bit back a moan and tilted her lips to his, triumphing at one measured claim of control.
    That was it, it seemed. The simple act of drawing his mouth to hers, of taking him in a kiss as his dick pistoned in and out of her pussy, as he slammed her against the wall. Serenity half-expected him to fight or pull away, but Dash did neither. Instead, he melted into her, giving her everything she wanted and then some. His tongue entangled with hers, underscoring his own desperation. He pulled at her mouth like she was his drug and he was fresh off the wagon. All the while, he pushed and pushed and pushed with his cock, until she had no choice but to push back. Until it felt, every time he slid away from her, that he was taking a part of herself—one she needed locked tight inside.
    The sensation of his lips against hers stoked the inner fire, the one that would send her over the edge. The intimacy of sharing his kiss while her pussy battled him was something she would never have anticipated. Their frantic coupling wasn’t them—it was amazing, but it wasn’t them. This, kissing him, tasting him, this was.
    Darts of pleasure tore across her skin and began to grow.
    Finally, Dash broke away from her mouth and rested his brow against hers. His pace was brutal, but she welcomed it. Wanted it. The hard cadence of his thrusts, the slap of his hips against her, the small murmurs that rumbled through his throat.
    “So good,” he whispered, the words soft under the carnal sound of their bodies coming together, but she heard him all the same. “Rennie…” Dash lifted his head. “Have you touched yourself?”
    The question penetrated the fog surrounding her head with something just barely resembling coherency. “What?”
    “Fingered yourself. Thinking of me.”
    Serenity nodded. “Yes.”
    “You. Wanted. This.” He punctuated each word with deep, hard drives, nudging areas within her she hadn’t known existed. Either he was larger than her past lovers, none of them had known what they were doing, or both. She’d bet both. “You wanted me. ”
    “Yes.”
    “Would you…have let me…fuck you then?”
    Serenity would have agreed to anything at that point, but that didn’t make her answer any less truthful. “Oh yes,” she moaned, never breaking eye contact. “I wanted you to fuck me then. That’s why, Dash…why…oh…”
    Dash’s expression darkened, his cock growing harder inside her, and she knew he was close. Hell, she was too. She needed to feel him lose himself, throw him off kilter as she’d been thrown off. This might be the last honest moment they had together, and she didn’t want it squandered.
    “Touch me,” she pleaded softly. “My clit. I need to come. Please. ”
    She thought he might make her beg more, but he didn’t. Instead, he slipped two fingers into his mouth, then wheedled them between them. The second