Andie let out a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a moan, and it was music to Negan's ears, prompting a primal urge to rut himself against her as he drove his tongue further into her mouth, the feeling of warm silk driving him crazy. Weeks of fantasizing of having her in this exact same position was frying his brain, even as Tara's words floated through his head.
"This girl likes you," she'd told him as Andie disappeared to the bathroom, pulling him away from the dart game. "Even if she can't admit it to herself."
It spurred him to follow behind her, the light in her eyes when he'd backed her into the small room unleashing a caveman instinct to mark her as his, to gnash his teeth against the smooth skin of her neck, but he restrained himself, just barely.
She tasted like beer and honey, intoxicating him as his chest pressed against hers, feeling the soft mounds of her breasts, his heart soaring when her hand clamped around the back of his neck to pull him closer. He hadn't felt this way since the first time he'd kissed Lucille, intermittent guilt washing over him as he broke contact, staring down at her, noting that her pupils were dilated, the skin around her lips mottled red from his stubble. He wanted to take a picture of it and send it to old French guys and young fuckwits on a dating app to show them that only he could make her look and feel so good.
"Hey, drunk people!" Tara pounded on the door, and Negan backed up as Andie ran her hands down her face and neck, breathing deeply. "I called you a cab, so get the hell out of the bathroom."
Negan knew this was a delicate situation, and at any moment, Andie could tell him to fuck off, reverting to her 'no cops' stance, so he opened the door, letting her slip out in front of him, affixing an easy smile on his face. Cautiously, he placed his hand on the small of her back, guiding her back to the booth to grab their jackets, passing Tara along the way, who wisely kept her mouth shut.
The crowd was three sheets to the wind, so the sight of two people leaving the bathroom together wasn't noticed or commented on, and he took the lead, exiting through the front door to a waiting cab. Holding the door open, Andie slid in, moving to the other side, and Negan gave the driver his address, his thigh pressed up against hers. All he wanted was to get her to his home, away from prying eyes to continue what they started.
As they rode in the dark silence, her hand slid up his leg, massaging the muscle, and he turned slightly to see her staring straight ahead with no expression. It made his dick throb, the desire ripping through the cab while the driver remained otherwise ignorant.
Home was a repurposed factory outside of Atlanta, and as the cab parked in front of the entrance, Negan handed the man a fifty dollar bill, coming around the back of the car to open the door, taking Andie's hand as she looked around. The large, gray building still had smokestacks, and the factory floor had been partitioned off into apartments, each with a loft, and Negan lived in the first one.
The cab drove off, bathing them in red light from its brakes, and Negan had just opened the front door when he was roughly turned around, Andie pinning him against the frame like he'd done to her at the bar. Before she could kiss him, he bent down and hooked his hands behind her knees, scooping her up as she wrapped her legs around his waist, exactly like he'd thought about the night before when he caught sight of the back of her thighs.
It was a struggle to unlock his door since one hand was gripping her ass, and she bit down hard on his earlobe, making him growl. If he wasn't inside her soon, he wouldn't be responsible for what he did, the door slamming behind him as he flipped on the light, his stomach on fire when Andie licked his neck, her legs locking him in a vise grip.
Practically sprinting up the steps to his bed, he fell on top of her, the little grunt that she let out only fanning the licking heat that was making his cock jump, a pain that only one thing could cure. But she had Negan on his back before he could blink, straddling his waist as she eased out of her jacket, the buttons of her blouse straining with the movement. Fuck, he wanted her like nothing else. Her breasts, her neck, even her heart. He had to have it.
"What am I working with here?" she asked in a gravelly voice, placing her palms flat against his chest, wiggling her hips on his pelvis, poking her tongue out to sweep it across her lips.
Impatiently, he sat up, and she helped him out of his leather jacket, allowing him to kiss her roughly, sucking her bottom lip into his mouth. When he'd had enough of that, he moved down her neck, his fingers unbuttoning her shirt so that he could have access to her breasts, grazing her nipple with his teeth through the little lace bra that she was wearing, leaving a wet spot. The other received the same treatment, gifting him with breathy pants, each of them trying to dictate what was happening.
"Let me up," he barked at her, making her blink, and she swung her leg over his waist, kneeling on the bed as he stood up, turning away from her to get his bearings. How many times had he brought women here? Too many to count. None of the recent ones took any initiative, relying on him to set the pace. But Andie wasn't. She was trying to get the upper hand, and it was throwing him off for some reason.
He had to get the control back, his emotions ping-ponging between wanting to lay her down and slowly enter her, and his muscle memory longing to just fuck her, to get whatever this was out of his system so that he could be himself again, have no lingering attachment to this woman.
Removing his shirt, Negan undid his belt, flicking the button of his jeans open before he turned around, intending to set the pace, but she was already completely nude, having positioned herself right behind him, giving him the first unobstructed view of her body. Creamy thighs, a smattering of hair between her legs, and rosy pink nipples, all of it a banquet for him to feast on, his mouth watering in anticipation. She was going to be the death of him, he knew it deep in his soul.
Andie ran her nails over his chest, dragging them down his stomach, using enough pressure to leave scratch marks, an intense look taking over her face when she reached the waistband of his pants. Slowly, she eased them down off of his hips, catching his briefs with her thumbs and letting the material drop, allowing his cock to spring free right in front of her face.
He could feel her breath across his skin, and he took the back of her head, balling up her hair as a wicked smile met his.
With a feather light touch, she circled her right hand around the base, running the head across her lips, her tongue flicking over the slit, sending pure waves of pleasure straight up his spine, and he bucked his hips, wanting the heat of her mouth to surround him fully.
"Fuck," he muttered as she allowed him to breach her throat, the vibrations from her vocal chords sending him into a frenzy as he thrust his hips in and out, spurred on when she moved one hand to his ass to knead the muscle, and he reared back after a few thrusts, knowing he was going to come too soon if he kept pushing it.
Her eyes were glittering with lust, her lips shiny with effort, and Andie leaned back on her elbows as he kicked off his shoes, his pants pooling around his ankles, watching her with barely opened eyes as she stuck one hand into her purse, coming out with a condom that she ripped open with her teeth.
"Not yet."
She halted her movements as he knelt down between her legs, using his fingertips to spread her thighs, a sense of pride and triumph at the slickness that coated them. The sweet, musky smell was enough to drive him face first into her folds, licking and sucking as she moaned his name, dropping onto her back, sending his ego to new, dizzying heights. Every time his tongue brushed her nub, it sent a spasm through her center, and he was rewarded with a tug to his scalp.
When she started to writhe, grinding herself against his face, he dug his fingers into her hips, slipping two fingers inside, finding the spongy skin and making little circular motions, wanting her to scream, only for him. She did, nearly suffocating him as she spasmed around his head, the blood pulsating in his ears.
Andie went still, and he surfaced, the smirk of a job well done, licking his way up her stomach to remove the condom from her hand, rolling it down his shaft one-handed as she lined herself up underneath him, kissing him even though his face was slippery with her lubrication.
The instant he pushed his way into her tight core, her eyelids fluttered open with a gasp, and he had to take a mental picture of the fine blush of her cheeks, the swollen lips that moaned his name, the sheen that coated her chest. He could fuck her all night if he hadn't had so goddamned much to drink, and he pistoned in and out of her, the ache in his balls driving him, and when she clenched her walls around him rhythmically, he was gone. Done.
The orgasm rocked him from head to toe, a blinding white light exploding across his tightly shut eyes, bowing himself over her body, breathing into her neck, even as the aftershocks made him thrust his hips automatically.
He was out of energy, willing to sleep still sheathed inside of her, but he rolled off when she pressed her hands to his chest to give him a nudge, and they lay side by side, each trying to catch their breath. Coming down from his high, he was able to think clearly again, and he knew that this wasn't going to be enough. Whatever he thought he was getting out of his system, he was gravely fucking mistaken.
Andie looked blindly out of the window of the car, hating herself for several reasons. The driver had the radio playing softly, and she was completely zoned out, the trip back to Fairfax giving her ample time to think.
Once Negan had fallen asleep, she'd snuck out of his bed, gathering up her clothes and purse and sneaking downstairs to call for an Uber to pick her up. Since she couldn't remember his address, she'd had to Google it, and she'd listened to his soft snores as she put her clothes back on, terrified that he'd wake up before she could leave. Christ, they hadn't exchanged two words after.
As soon as she'd pushed him off of her, she'd started to panic, her rule broken and there was nowhere for her to hide. So she'd run like a coward, not even leaving him a note. Instead, she'd carried her shoes out as she shut the door softly behind her, putting them on outside the building, sitting on the driveway as she breathed in the night air, trying to clear her head and her nose to get his smell out of it.
Negan was even more beautiful naked than he was fully clothed, the look on his face when she'd had him in her mouth almost too painful to look at. And it wasn't just that. It was the way he'd kissed her at the bar, making her dead heart lurch to life again, a longing to feel his lips, his hands on her for the rest of her days. She hadn't felt that way in years, and it scared her more than any serial killer that was on the loose.
It couldn't work. It wouldn't work. Negan was a man that was always on the lookout for the bigger, better deal, no matter what his friend Tara said. His track record proved that. Hell, he'd told her himself that he couldn't even stay faithful to his wife, and he'd loved her. If she wasn't enough for Shane, she sure as shit wasn't going to keep this guy fulfilled.
Beyond that was the shame that she'd cut and run like a scared rabbit, fleeing danger. George Saunders didn't raise a coward, yet here she was, in a stranger's car, speeding away from Atlanta like she'd been ordered out of town by sunrise.
"We're here, ma'am," the guy said a half-hour later, jolting her from her stupor in his backseat. Locking eyes with him in his rearview mirror, she fumbled around in her purse for a tip, passing it to him as she opened the door, her thighs throbbing from being spread wide. He was nice enough to wait until she was safely inside, and she locked the door behind her, tossing her bag on the kitchen counter and taking her phone with her up to her room.
In the dark, she stripped off her clothes, still surrounded by Negan's scent, walking naked to the bathroom to shower to clean herself, thinking naively that it would wash away everything, including her feelings. But she couldn't do it, and she slipped her nightgown over her head, crawling into her expensive bed, curling up in the middle as she clutched her pillow, thinking that she'd hide here until she figured out what she would say to Negan on Monday. She'd have to avoid him until then.
He stood over her, his hands twitching as he thought about strangling her in her sleep. She smelled of sex and leather, lime and alcohol, the same way Mother used to, and he knew that she'd fucked Negan, falling under his spell. Just like Mother.
Negan took Mother away from him, and he was taking Andie, too. He couldn't let that happen.
Andie sighed in her sleep, rolling onto her back, and he was awash in the familiar musk, stirring up both rage and arousal. Quietly, he crept closer, his hands ready to throttle her neck, but he couldn't do it. Not yet.
With one finger, he traced the outline of her lips, then the curve of her jaw, daring to lightly rub her nipple, getting hard when it started to poke through the fine material. She moaned quietly, and he brushed his hand over his erection, wanting to push things even further, but a name fell from her lips, and it was 'Negan'.
He backed away, disappearing through the door, confused and muddled. He wanted to be Negan, to bathe in his blood and make everything in Negan's life his. Maybe he should adjust his priorities, change his plans, he thought as he carefully opened the unlatched window in the living room, going out the exact way he came, edging his way through the yard between Andie's townhouse and her neighbors, back to where his car was parked on the street behind hers.
Checking his fancy silver watch, he saw that it was after midnight, and he hummed to himself. It was his birthday, and he knew what present to get for himself, heading back to his home. Back to Atlanta.