Claiming him from her rival’s scent

She shoved me hard against the doorframe, and I knew we were done pretending the rule meant anything.

The door slammed behind her. Her hands were already on my chest, fingers digging in like she meant to rip the shirt off me. Donna’s scent still clung to my collar. Julia smelled it. Her eyes went dark.

She went straight for the collar. Pressed her face there, dragged her teeth along the fabric where the other woman had been close. A low growl in her throat. She bit down on my neck, right where the perfume lived, sucking hard like she could pull it out of my skin. Marking over it. Erasing it.

I grabbed her waist and pulled her in. No words. None of this was allowed and we both knew it and neither of us stopped.

Her mouth moved up my throat, scrubbing me clean with teeth and tongue. Every place that woman might have touched, Julia took back. My jaw. My collar. The hollow under my ear. She bit and licked and breathed hot over all of it, claiming, overwriting, until the only thing on me was her.

She yanked my belt open with one rough tug. Buttons popped. The waistband gave with a tear. Her breath came hot against my throat as she shoved my pants down. The shirt stayed on me, hanging loose and ruined where she’d torn it.

I spun her, pressed her back to the wood. My hands shoved up under her skirt, found the band of her underwear, dragged it down her thighs. She kicked free of it. My hands found the old scar low on her hip, the one I knew by feel alone. I pressed my thumb there and she gasped, hips jerking forward like she always did.

She bit my shoulder through the shirt. Hard. Taking back what she thought was taken.

I dropped first. Pulled her down with me. My back hit the floor and she came down on top, her knees bracketing my hips, her hands slapping flat on either side of my head. Her skirt rode up around her waist. I gripped her hips and dragged her down where I needed her, blind and urgent. Heat and sweat already building.

Her nails raked down my chest, catching the open edges of the shirt, scoring the bare skin underneath. I held her hips and pulled her down harder, guiding her onto me. She arched, taking it, one hand clamping around my wrist, the other fisting in my hair.

Every roll of her hips dragged a low sound from her throat. I answered with my own, raw and wordless. Friction built fast. Too fast. Her body knew mine. Mine knew hers. The scar under my palm. The way she twitched when I bit the side of her neck. The exact angle that made her breath catch.

I drove up into her, chasing the edge. She clawed at my shoulders, sinking down to meet every thrust. Her thighs clamped tight against my sides. The rhythm turned frantic, animal, nothing but skin slapping and desperate grunts filling the room.

Pressure snapped. I came first, hips stuttering up off the floor, a guttural sound ripping out of me. My whole body jerked. Nerves screamed. I stayed inside her anyway, clumsy now, hips still pushing even as sensitivity burned through me.

She kept going, using my body, grinding down against what was left. I fought to stay hard, to keep the motion. My hand found her breast, thumb circling rough and fast. Sweat slicked everything. Her breathing turned ragged, broken little sounds escaping every time I managed another thrust up into her.

I was shaking. Too much. Too soon. But I kept pushing. My fingers dropped between us, pressed where I knew, pressed hard. She tightened around me, riding it, taking what she came for.

Her climax hit with a sharp cry. She arched hard, body clamping down. I stayed with her until the last tremor faded, both of us panting and slick.

She stayed on top, breath hot and uneven. Then her mouth moved against my ear, voice low and rough.

“Shower. Now. Both of us.”

I nodded once. We got up on unsteady legs, hands still gripping wherever they landed. The water would come next. Another claim. Another rule already broken.