Kill Switch by Penelope Douglas

Upstairs, Rika and Michael went at it, growing louder and
harder.
“Don’t worry,” he said, and I could hear the smirk in his
voice. “I won’t tell them you were eavesdropping.”
I turned around, but he wouldn’t let me leave. I smelled
liquor on his breath. Had he not been to bed yet, either?
“You have this look on your face,” he told me, keeping his
voice low and intimate. “Are you wishing someone would do
that to you or are you remembering when someone did that to
you?”
That. Meaning Michael and Rika’s fucking.
I pushed past him and descended the stairs, finding my
way through the great room and to the front door again.
“Need a ride home?” he asked.
“You’re drunk.” I pulled the door open. “I’ll call
someone.”
I slammed the door, not caring if Michael and Rika heard
me at that point, and walked down the stairs, rain pummeling
my hat and shoulders.
The door behind me opened again, and before I knew it, I
was swung around, engulfed in strong arms, with a mouth on
mine and tongue inside me.
I grunted, trying to push him away as I tasted the faint
remnants of whiskey, his tongue brushing mine and playing
with me. Forced up on my toes, Will devoured me, gripping
the back of my neck, his breath and heat filtering through my
body like syrup, down to my toes. Every inch of me suddenly
starving.
He pulled away from my mouth, but kept me in his arms.
“You need to get fucked and bad,” he told me. “If you don’t
want him to do it, I will.” Then he leaned in, whispering over
my mouth. “And I would make that offer sober.”
He let me go, and I inhaled shallow breaths, the cool rain
welcome on my hot skin.