Текст книги "Tank"
Автор книги: Carmen Jenner
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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 16 страниц)
This is all for nothing. Doesn’t he see that? I can’t be fixed, glued or taped back together, because I’ve never been whole. I’m not worth mending. The sooner he comes to understand this, the better.
I can’t hear anymore. I move away from the door and stand in front of the sink, resting my arms on the porcelain basin. I stare long and hard at my reflection, and then I carefully open the cabinet again, and take out the little cardboard boxes of pills. I take one of each and put them in my bra, because if I pop an oxy now I’ll be falling off the damn bike the whole way home.
I place the boxes back in the cabinet and quietly close the door. Tank’s voice rises again. “I don’t care, just as long as she’s alive to still be a fuckin’ pain in my arse.”
My chest warms, and I glance down at the pills in my bra and shake my head. It doesn’t matter how he feels about me. I’m a lost cause. I steal pain medication from old ladies with back problems. I lie and I cheat and steal to get what I want. I don’t deserve someone like Tank; I don’t even deserve Kick. I deserve someone as evil and as fucked up as my father, because I’m exactly what he made me: a thieving, drug-addicted whore.
“You need to trust that she knows what’s right for her, Jonah.”
“I need to save her from herself.”
“No, you need to stand by her while she saves herself. Not all women are strong enough. I wasn’t, and I regret every day that I hadn’t taken a stand against your father. I regret every day that it had to be you. Let her save herself, and she’ll save you in return.”
I can’t listen to any more of this. I can’t have Adeline give him hope for a future with me because there is none. I have no future, I have no prospects, and I certainly have no intention of falling in love with a man I don’t deserve. I yank open the door and join them at the table. Adeline releases her son’s hand and straightens.
“Well, let’s eat. Ivy, if there’s too much on your plate, don’t eat it all. We don’t want you exploding on us.”
Tank lets out a groan and picks up his fork, stabbing at a potato.
“Jonah. Let’s not be a tyrant and say grace, shall we?”
He huffs and takes hold of his mother’s hand. Adeline rests her well-manicured hand on top of mine. The shell pink polish stands out in stark relief against my worn chipped nails. She gives me a gentle smile and bows her head as she says grace, adding on to the end, “Grant Jonah the gift of patience, and God, we ask that you grant Ivy the strength to put up with him. God knows he can be an ogre.”
I try to stifle a laugh, but it comes out anyway. Adeline laughs too, and even as I roll my gaze upward to meet Tank’s, I find him fighting that gorgeous grin that teases at the corner of his lips. I realise that I want that smile badly, but he just shakes his head and starts devouring his meal.
The food is delicious and, despite there being far too much, I find myself eating all of it. When we’re done, Tank leans back in his chair and pats his distended belly. It’s hard to believe there’s even a stomach under that wall of abs he’s so fond of showing off. “Thanks, Ma. It was delicious, as always.”
“You’re welcome, Puddin’.” She pats his hand and stands. “You know what? Why don’t you go sit out on the deck? Ivy can help me clear these things away.”
“It’s okay. I got it—”
“You know, Son, subtlety never really was your strong suit. Go, shoo. I want to have a girl-to-girl chat with Ivy.”
Oh no. No, no, no, no.
I send Tank a pleading glance and he just chuckles and strolls out onto the deck that separates the dining room from the yard.
“Thanks for lunch. It really was delicious.”
“You’re very welcome. I’m glad you enjoyed it.” She carries dishes of food into the kitchen and I follow her with the stack of plates I collected. “I’m sorry about Jonah’s behaviour. He really is a beast sometimes, but he means well.”
“Yeah. I’m familiar with how much of a beast he can be.”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” She gives me a conspiratorial smile and my eyes grow wide.
“Oh, I didn’t mean—”
“Relax, Ivy, I’m just messing with you. Besides, I was a young woman once. I remember what being taken by a big, strapping man felt like.”
Oh God. I can actually feel the heat clawing at my cheeks.
“I might be old, sweetheart, but I’m not dead. In the first few years with Jonah’s father, all we did was get naked. It was glorious, and then Jonah came along, and my heart had swollen past the point I ever thought I could love, but Wayne’s hadn’t. He saw my baby boy as an intrusion. He never wanted children; his father was a bastard and had raised him with a brutal hand, and Wayne thought that we should do the same with Jonah. He also thought I should be dealt with in the same manner. I happily took that punishment to keep it from Jonah, and then the beatings got worse. The drinking and gambling got worse, and so did his temper.”
“I’m sorry,” I say.
Adeline gives me a small smile and nods towards Tank, who’s now walking around the backyard. “He’s a good man, my Jonah, but he’s as wilful and stubborn as his father was. Don’t let him push you around.”
I laugh. “Well, I don’t think there’s much that can be done about it right now. He’s sort of in charge of pushing me around.”
“That’s what he’d have you believe, but men are rarely ever in charge—not really. They just like to think they are.” She begins rinsing the dishes in the sink, and I stack them in the dishwasher when she passes them to me. “He cares a great deal for you, Ivy. You’re the only woman he’s ever brought to meet me, so that must mean you’re something special.”
“Is this the part where you tell me if I break his heart you’ll hunt me down like a dog?”
Adeline laughs, but it doesn’t sound mirthful. “No, this is the part where I tell you if you hurt him, you get to carry that with you for the rest of your days. He might not express himself in the best way possible, but he will find ways to treat you like a queen. The question is: are you up to task?”
I don’t have to think long about my reply. “No, I don’t think I am.”
She raises her eyebrows and then looks out the window at her son as he stoops over to pull weeds from the garden. “I think you grossly underestimate yourself. Girls like us, survivors, we have a backbone stronger than a hundred men like Jonah. You just need the right reasons to find it.”
I knew she meant what she said, I knew she believed that with her whole heart, but she was wrong about me. I wasn’t strong. I was weak, and I’d be her son’s downfall. I’d be his ruin. I knew it like I knew the blood in my veins was corrupt.
“I never thought I’d see the day that my son would be in love,” Adeline says, taking my hand. “I can tell it’s not the same for you though.”
“No, it’s not.” I say, and even as the words leave my mouth there’s a gnawing in the pit of my stomach, as if butterflies have sprouted from my insides and grown teeth. They sink their incisors of doubt into me, and plant little seeds of hope. Images of a normal life, of lazy rainy Sunday mornings spent entangled in one another, club barbeques, holidays, and long rides on the back of his V-Rod Muscle.
And even longer rides bent over the back of that glorious bike.
I push the thoughts away, smother the insects with a tsunami tide of fear. Long rides that would get us both killed. I can’t have that dream. I can never have that dream, not with Tank, or anyone else.
“Could it be?” she asks, hopefully. “Someday?”
“He’s not hard to love, Adeline. You raised a great man, but Tank’s worthy of more—”
“No, he’s worthy of the woman he loves. If that’s you, then my only wish is that one day, you can reciprocate his feelings.”
“Why would you want someone like me for your son? I’m a mess; I’m a total pain in the arse and …” I stop, unsure I want her to know the horrible truth about me. “I’m a drug addict.”
She leans over and pats my arm. “I know.”
I frown in confusion. Oh God, he told her? And is she fucking bat-shit crazy? I tell her I’m a drug addict and she’s practically marrying the two of us off? What kind of ridiculous logic is that?
“Don’t get me wrong—the last thing I want for Jonah is to be caught up in more substance abuse. He had enough of that with his father, but he believes in you, Ivy. And I trust my son to make his own decisions. He just wants to save you from yourself.”
“What if I don’t want to be saved?” I say, and it’s a question for me as much as it is for her.
“I’m afraid you don’t have much choice in the matter, my dear. That boy is one of the most stubborn people I know. He doesn’t just get what he wants, he takes every measure to ensure that he does, and right now what he wants is you.”
“I use to forget.” The words rush out before I can stop them, and Adeline runs a hand over my cheek.
“And I drink more than my doctor advises for a woman my age, but sometimes you need to remember, if for nothing other than to remind yourself how strong you are.” Tears spill down my cheeks and I swipe them away with the back of my hands. “Now, let’s leave all this and go sit out on the deck in that glorious sunshine. We have a lot to be thankful for today.”
She was right. I knew she was right, but the dark part of me that always reared its ugly head worried how long it would be before he found me again, and as I follow her out on to the deck and Tank turns to smile at us, I can’t help but suppress a shiver. I’d been out of the clubhouse for a handful of days, and I know as sure as I know the blood in my veins is red that he’ll find me.
I should get as far away from Tank as I can before that happens, but the thought of leaving now strikes fear into my heart for a different reason. I think I might actually miss the bastard. I think I might actually want him around, and that pisses me off, because God knows he can be an overgrown man-child.
After coffee and some delicious home-baked cookies, we thank Adeline and she walks us out to the bike. She hands Tank a few small plastic containers filled with biscuits and leftovers that he secures in the saddlebags. Adeline hugs me extra tight when she says goodbye, and I wrap my arms around her, awkwardly at first, breathing in violets and the soft scent of freshly laundered clothes. It so odd hugging a woman this way, a woman who isn’t my mother but who has embraced me with the same motherly affection that my own might have. “You come back and see me soon.”
“I will,” I promise. And I’d like to, I really would, but visiting Adeline again would likely only put her in danger.
She leans in and whispers in my ear, “And you throw out those pills stuffed inside your bra before my son finds them, or he’ll make you pay dearly for it.”
My eyes widen, my gaze searching her face as she draws away. Tank studies the two of us and frowns. He kisses Adeline goodbye and climbs onto the bike, revving it several times as I nod to her and then slide on behind him.
The entire ride back to the cabin, I think about all the things Adeline said to me. The pills in my bra feel like a brand against my skin. I want to get rid of them, but I can’t. I need them. I want them so bad, but I can’t take them, not now, and not without falling off the bike.
When we pull into Tank’s garage I slide off the bike but he grabs my hand and pulls me towards him. “Thank you.”
“For what?” I ask.
“For meeting my mum, and for not stabbing me with your dinner fork, ’cause I know you were thinking about it.”
I laugh. “Oh, I was thinking of stabbing you with more than just my fork. I considered the carving knife and bludgeoning you to death with the roast too.”
His mouth tips up in a smile. “I think I’d like to see that.”
“What, me murdering you with a leg of lamb?”
“You trying to kill me with anything. Postal Ivy gets me hard as fuckin’ stone.” He bends and kisses my hand. There’s a hint of tongue and the gesture is as equally sweet as it is erotic. I pull my hand free from his grasp and ignore the quiet sigh that escapes his mouth. It’s not that it wasn’t nice, it’s just … that isn’t what we do, and to be honest, I don’t even know what that looks like—him and me, together. Me being an old lady. The idea makes me nervous. What if I fuck this up too? What if I really do become his ruin?
We walk into the house and Tank disables the alarm. I notice he doesn’t set it again, and my heart gives a stupid-arsed girly little flutter because it’s such a tiny, insignificant thing, but to me it’s a gargantuan gesture of faith. My gaze meets his, but he says nothing and the moment is lost as Butch comes barrelling in from Tank’s bedroom, almost knocking me off my feet and licking at my hands and face.
“Butch, down,” Tank commands, and the dog ignores him in favour of rutting up against my leg. “Stupid fuckin’ mutt.”
I pat his giant skull and sook him up some more, just the way Tank hates. “On your mat!” Tank bellows, and the dog whines and wanders over to the mat by the door.
“You’re so mean.”
“You baby him. He’s already a big enough sook as it is.” He opens the fridge and peers inside. “I’m gonna have to buy one of those fighting pit bulls to show him how a real guard dog behaves.”
“You’re so full of it,” I say, leaning against the bench. “I see right through you, you know. I’m not buying any of it.”
“Eat me,” Tank says, slamming the fridge door closed. I’m guessing he was looking for a beer, and the fact that I’m here means he can’t have one. He stalks over to the lounge and flops down on it, kicking his feet up on the coffee table and turning on a game.
I sigh and head to the bathroom. For a long time I stare at myself in the mirror, thinking about all of the things his mother said to me, and then I remove the tablets I stole from my bra. It would be so easy to just toss them back and let them take me away, but that’s the point, isn’t it? That life is hard, and it’s fucked, and unfair. But it’s the same for everyone. We all experience different things, we’re all faced with different obstacles—it’s the way we confront our fears that matter. It’s the decisions I make from here that matter.
With a final glance, I close my fist around the pills, and walk down the hall into the lounge room. I take a deep breath and then I stand in front of him.
“Unless you plan to remove your pants and let me stare at that beautiful cunt of yours, I suggest you move, darlin’,” Tank says. I hesitate and hold out my hand to him, the three tiny pills—somewhat deteriorated and a little bit sweaty—on show in the centre of my palm. “What the fuck is that?”
I swallow hard. “I stole them … from your mother’s house.”
“Come the fuck again?” He sits up, ramrod straight.
“I thought I needed them … to forget.”
“Jesus Christ, Ivy,” Tank mutters. He looks away, shakes his head in disbelief. “And why the fuck are you showing me now?”
“Because I’m done.”
He shoots up from the couch, towering over me as he grabs my shoulder with his vice grip. “What do you mean you’re fuckin’ done? I haven’t wasted all this time trying to straighten your bitch arse out just to have you—”
“Tank!” I say, so frustrated I could punch him in the face. He’s so fucking bull-headed. “Will you shut up? Please?”
“Don’t you tell me to shut up, bitch. I put myself on the fuckin’ line for you with my Prez, and if you think I’m going to let—”
I don’t punch him in the face, but I do the next best thing. I swing my arm back and hurl the pills at him. “God, you’re such an arsehole. Don’t you think that if I wanted to take them I would have in the bathroom just now?”
“Why the fuck didn’t you? Huh?”
“Because, you jackarse, I didn’t want to. I took the pills from your mother, and she was the first person besides you who’s ever been nice to me. I can’t take them. I don’t want to take them.” Tank arches a brow and I clarify, “I want to take them. Right now I’m considering getting down on my hands and knees and tearing your lounge room apart until I find them, but I can’t take them because it means stealing from her and disappointing you. And for some unexplained reason, I don’t want that.”
“What are you saying?” Tank glares down at me. His eyes are hard and unyielding, and I can’t say I blame him after all the times I’ve put him through shit like this.
“I’m saying you don’t have to fight for me any longer, because I’m … I’m fighting for myself.”
“Well good. ’Bout fuckin’ time,” he says, and the momentary glimpse of happiness and pride I saw in his face disappears as quickly as it came. Tank looks away and I press a hand to the centre of his solid chest. He glances down at me. Our eyes meet, and I feel his heart beneath my palm, steady and strong, so much like the man who owns it.
He’s everything I need, and nothing I want. He’s good for me, but I’m not good for him. I should cut my losses.
I should do a lot of things that I don’t.
I slide my hand up his chest, over the coarse hair of his beard, and I tilt his chin down to me as I stand on tippy-toes and lean in. Tank’s eyes search mine. His lips are so close, and I can taste the coffee on his breath. I inch forward until our lips are touching, but too quickly he pulls back.
“You sure you want this? ’Cause I gotta tell ya, babe, I wanna fuck you so bad my balls are blue. You got no idea how much I want to touch you, but I don’t want a pity fuck, and I don’t want you to fuck me out of obligation.”
I sigh and shove him hard in the chest. It completely catches him off-guard and he loses his balance, falling back onto the couch with a grunt. I climb onto his lap and wrap my arms around his thick shoulders. “I’m lonely. I’m tired of making bad decisions, and this may be just another one, but it doesn’t feel like it. I don’t have anything to give you but me, Jonah, so if that’s not enough—”
“Did that coke kill your brain cells, babe?” he asks, grinning from ear to ear. “It’s enough; trust me, it’s fuckin’ more than enough. All I’ve ever wanted was you.”
I won’t make promises I can’t keep, and I won’t lie about going into this without reservations, so I don’t say anything more. Instead, I press my lips to his and I feel him open to me. His tongue pushes into my mouth, hungry and seeking, probing. I grasp the sides of his face and kiss him like I’m starving, like a want to devour him the way his hands and lips and tongue are consuming me.
Tank grabs my hips and rocks me back and forth in his lap. His cock is long and hard against his leathers, and just the feel of it pushing up against me has my pussy begging for more as we move with one another.
I unfasten his zip and slide my hand inside his pants, stroking the velvet length. I want badly to feel that curved cock hitting all of the right spots inside me, his wide head stretching me open as I come. I want him to bruise, to hurt, and to punish. I want him to fuck me so hard that I feel that soreness and think of him every time I move for the next two days. And as though he can sense all this, as though he knows how badly I need it, he pulls away and says, “Get on the coffee table. On all fours.”
I clamber to my feet and unfasten my jeans, sliding them down my hips and stepping out of them in a hurry. “Shirt too. I wanna see those fuckin’ awesome tits.”
I remove my shirt and bra, tossing them behind me. I stand completely naked before him while he’s still partially clothed, his dick jutting out proudly as he strokes it. He tilts his chin at me. “The table, babe.”
I eagerly scramble onto it, silently begging him to shove inside me, but he lowers himself to the floor and I feel his warm breath on my pussy.
“Fuck me, Tank,” I plead. Just moments ago his eyes had promised me everything I wanted, but this was not it. Where is the hard pounding? The pain? The release?
“Shut the fuck up,” he growls, and his tongue darts out to taste me. I flinch and move my hips away from him.
I can do pressure on my clit; I can handle anything any man has ever tried to give me, but the one thing I can’t do, the one thing that destroys me is pleasure without pain. I know it’s fucked up. I know I sound like I belong in some skeezy BDSM novel, but it is what it is. I’ve never let any man touch me without begging them to make it hurt. I need it to hurt.
Tank knows that. He’s always known that. I’ve never been able to separate pure pleasure from that part of me that needs to be hurt. So the fact that Tank is trying again to break me of that, well, it not only pisses me off, but it feels like a knife to the gut.
“Tank,” I beg. He wraps an arm around my hips and holds me like a vice. I can’t move. I squirm against him, but he won’t let me go. Without warning, he drives two thick fingers inside me. It hurts, and I breathe easier, especially once he starts thrusting them in and out of me in a brutal punishing rhythm. I close my eyes and lose myself in the sound and feel of his slick fingers working against my body.
When I’m close, he stops pumping all together. He slides them out of me and the arm pinning me in place loosens a little as his fingers gently stroke my clit. I buck against him, away from him, and though I can feel my orgasm building, I don’t want it like this. I can’t have it like this. My body disagrees completely, and as he buries his head in my pussy, eating me out as though he’s famished, licking me from back to front, and stroking my clit with attentive fingers, I come undone. Pleasure, heady and intense, smacks into me. I lose myself completely.
Tank keeps up his gentle pressure, licking and sucking until a second orgasm sluices through me, and it’s too much. I can’t deal with the sensations in my body, and the idea that they’re caused not by pain but from pleasure alone.
Hot tears trail down my cheeks and I close my eyes. I twist and grab his head from behind, holding him in position as I ride out the agonising high.
Tank gets to his feet and I think finally he’s going to fuck me, that he’ll drive into me and fuck me senseless right here on the table, and that we can forget whatever the hell that was, but he doesn’t fuck me. Of course he doesn’t. He takes hold of my waist and lifts me from the table, setting me on my feet. Slowly, I turn and face him. His beard is covered with my juices, and while a part of me wants to lick it off, I lower my head and lean into his body. I can’t look at him. If I do, I’m afraid he’ll see something in me, something that tells him he can continue to treat me with tenderness, and that isn’t at all what I want. It isn’t—
He steals my thoughts by placing his hands on either side of my face and gently, reverently tilting my head up to his. I close my eyes so I don’t meet his gaze, so he won’t see beneath to all of the unexposed parts of me.
“Look at me, babe.”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Please?” he begs, and goddamn him, I do. Because I’ve never heard him sound so defenceless. I’ve never heard him sound vulnerable, and the fact that this huge man—who’s ordinarily so strong and so self-reliant—might need something from me, something that only I can give him in this moment, is a sobering thought. I open my eyes, and see the need there, not just need but hunger and nervousness all at once, which makes me smile a little, because it’s so odd to see the man who never feels anything show so much emotion with one little look.
“I’m gonna take you to my bed, and I’m gonna lay you down, and I’m gonna fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before, and you’re gonna love every second of it,” he whispers, and kisses me hard on the mouth.
I return his kisses with vigour. Our mouths devour one another, our hands soothe and scorch all at once, and for the first time in my life I feel something I never thought possible. I feel strong and weakened. I’m overjoyed and undone all at once because I’ve never had anyone touch me the way he does, I’ve never had anyone build me up before, and I’ve never not wanted to break in another man’s hands.
Tank builds, not breaks. Odd, considering he kills for a living. Though I guess that’s exactly what he’s doing in this moment. Killing me slowly, softly, and so deliciously that I’d happily die a thousand times over to feel this again.
His big hands move from my hair down my back and cup my arse, hard. It’s the first time he’s shown any of the Tank that I’m used to, and it jars me for a moment. He lifts me, and I have no choice but to wrap my legs around his hips. His legs are still in his leathers, and he shuffles at a snail’s pace, but for the first time ever there’s no urgency between us. I kiss him slow and deep and writhe against him with each step that we take towards the bedroom. Moments later, Tank stumbles and falls onto the bed, crushing me beneath him, and the air rushes out of my lungs with an oomph.
“Fuck, sorry,” he says, leaning up on his elbows.
“Holy shit, you’re heavy,” I say, when I regain my breath.
“You wanna be on top?”
I grin and shake my head. “No, I don’t.”
He grins back and kisses a trail down my neck to my breasts. He takes my nipple between his teeth and gently bites down, forcing an arc of molten liquid to shoot from my tits to my pussy. I cry out, and Tank’s sapphire eyes pin me with promises. He trails his mouth lower and settles himself between my legs.
“No, Tank, please? I need you to fuck me,” I beg.
“And I need to feel these pretty thighs of yours squeezing the sides of my face.” He growls and I shut up, because there’s something beautiful in the way Tank eats pussy. He has this thing about looking into your eyes as he gets you off. It’s fucking phenomenal. With any other man it might make me feel awkward, or self-conscious. But not with him.
He slides two fingers inside me and my breath hitches. Tank licks up one side of my pussy and down the other, and then he twists his fingers inside me, and presses against my G-spot.
“Oh fuck,” I moan, unable to control the way my legs shake as he fucks me hard with those long, thick fingers of his, and hits all the right places.
“Come for me, baby.”
Tank’s coarse beard adds to the sensation as I slide my cunt against his mouth. With one big hand he shoves my writhing hips down on the mattress and sucks my clit into his mouth. “Oh fuck, Tank,” I pant, as I grab his hair and practically scalp him in the process.
I squeeze my thighs together in an effort to lessen the pressure or intensify it—I’m not sure which. All I know is that I feel too much right now. I also know that Tank has no intention of letting me go until I come for him. I know this, and yet I still try to squirm away.
He tries pinning me to the bed with his huge arms, but I struggle. It’s too much. Too sweet. Too gentle. When he gets tired of fighting me, he growls and gets to his knees, slides his arms underneath me and lifts my arse off of the bed. He doesn’t just lift my arse, but my whole body, and settles me over his shoulders, burying his face in my pussy again while he supports me with firm hands at my back. He sucks my clit into his mouth and I come, hard, scratching his head, neck, and anything else I can find purchase with. Tank grunts as I practically suffocate him with my thighs, and then he unceremoniously dumps me on the bed in a heap of shaking limbs and weightlessness.
It’s as if he’s sliced me open from forehead to toes and yanked out all my bones, and I’m left with muscle and sinew that clings to nothing. I should be unnerved, but instead, for the first time in my life I feel free. Even if only for a moment. Even if the hurt and pain and torment of my father comes creeping back in as soon as this bliss disperses, I’ll still have the knowledge that for one fleeting second I escaped him. Tank gave me that when no one else even bothered to try.
I laugh at … well, I’m not even sure what I’m laughing at. The endorphins? The way he just tossed me around like a ragdoll? Or the fact that I just had three of the most mind-blowing orgasms of my life, and they had nothing to do with pain.
When I quit giggling like a fucking schoolgirl I open my eyes, and he’s staring at me in awe. My laughter stops short. “Sorry.”
“Don’t you dare fuckin’ apologise. I don’t know what the hell you’re laughin’ at, and so long as it’s not my cock I don’t care.” He climbs on top of me and spreads my legs apart with his knees, fitting himself into the space between my thighs. His cock presses against my clit, making me slowly arch up against him. Tank rests his weight on bent elbows and smooths the hair back from my face. The way he looks at me makes me feel nervous for the first time in a long time. I shouldn’t get too used to this. I shouldn’t get too used to him, because even though I want to, the idea of trusting in this, of falling in love with him, frightens me more than being alone and on the run.
“I’m never gonna let you leave this bed,” he whispers.
“You’re not, huh?” I snag his earlobe in my teeth and bite down hard.
Tank growls, and his full lips twist with a wry grin. “Don’t plan on it, nope. I was just makin’ you aware.”
“I think I can take you,” I say, flexing my hips so his cock slides over the hood of my clit.
“Can you now?”
“You bet your arse I can, Mr Whitecross.”
Tank chuckles. The sound resonates through his big barrel chest and my nipples turn to hard, tight little buds. His mouth covers mine as he slides one arm beneath me, cupping my arse. I kiss him back and use the distraction to roll us so that I’m lying on top. It’s graceless and not without a lot of effort on my part—because like I said before, he’s heavy—but his brows arch in mock surprise.
“You know I helped there, right?”
“Shut up,” I warn, but he doesn’t say a thing, just grins and takes hold of my waist when I push myself into a sitting position. I lift my hips and reach for his thick cock, guiding it slowly inside me until he’s seated balls’ deep and I can feel every inch of him stretching me wide. He’s so big it hurts, and my instinct is to ride him harder, to make it hurt even more, but this isn’t about punishment.
Tank groans, “Jesus, fuck. You’re tight.” He slides a hand across my hip and down to my pussy where he rubs my clit with the softest of touches. I rock back and forth on top of him. I need to come again. I need to come with his cock buried inside me, opening me, stretching me. I need to feel his release as I pulse around him. But I know it’s far too soon for that. I move my hips, matching the rhythm he creates with his hand. It’s such a simple thing, and yet it feels as though I’ve never experienced pleasure like this before. And maybe I haven’t. Maybe I never really knew what pleasure was.
