Текст книги "Dangerously Bound"

Автор книги: Eden Bradley

Соавторы: Eden Bradley
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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

CHAPTER Seven

SHE STRAIGHTENED UP until she could look him in the eye. He could see she was still flying a bit. Probably emotionally raw. He would have to be very careful about where this conversation was going. He wished he’d been more careful already.

She twisted her fingers in the loose fabric of his shirtsleeve. “Mick, tell me what happened. Tell me why we haven’t been together all this time.”

“Allie . . .”

“It’s okay. I need to hear it, and maybe this is the only time I’m going to be brave enough to ask.”

“Do we need to rehash ancient history?”

“Yes,” she answered simply.

He knew she was right. But damn it, he did not want to do this.

He tightened his arms around her. “If this makes you bottom out, I’m going to feel like shit.”

“And if that happens, I know you’ll take good care of me. Just tell me,” she insisted.

He pushed her long, silky hair from her face, stroked her jaw with his thumb, checked her eyes. It was clear she was still pretty full of endorphins. But it was also clear she knew exactly what she was asking.

“Okay. But you know a big part of why we haven’t been together is because I haven’t wanted to have this conversation.”

“I know,” she said softly, her tone laced with hurt.

“And you’re asking me now because you know damn well I can’t say no to you when you’re sitting naked in my lap, and you know how badly I want you.”

She smiled a little. “Well, I’m sure it doesn’t hurt.”

“Oh, it hurts. Princess, you sure know how to get your way.”

“Not always, apparently. And you’re stalling.”

“Yeah.” He paused to gather his thoughts. How the hell did he say something to her he’d purposely kept from her for nearly eleven years? Something he’d never fully admitted, not even to Jamie? Where did he begin?

“All right. You know how in high school I always told you how sweet you were? You know that was truly how I felt. You always had this sweetness about you. You were so . . . fresh is the only word I can find. And I’ve always had these demons. This darkness. These urges.”

“Do you still see your urges for kink as dark? As demons?”

“As dark, sure. Maybe not as demons anymore. I’ve worked some of those out of my system.” He stopped, shrugged. “Some of them are still there, though, if you want to know the truth. But being a Dominant has helped me to control them. That’s how I got into rope. That part of me needed to be kept in check, and the rope . . . it’s a symbol to me, maybe. The binding, the restraining, restrains my own darkness. I know it doesn’t make much sense.”

“No, it does. I get it. Go on.”

“It’s more than that. It’s a sense of connection with the bottom, an extension of my hands, myself. There’s control in the patterns. In the elegance of the knots.”

“Yes, that’s one of the things I love about it, too,” she agreed.

“But it’s the way the rope requires control. It’s mathematical, even. It’s discipline in itself to bind someone properly. And it’s that sense of absolute discipline that keeps me on track. That’s not something I discovered until a few years after I last saw you, and it’s only been in the last couple of years that I’ve come to understand it more completely. I’m sure I still have more to learn.”

“Don’t we all? But tell me how this relates to us. To what happened.”

He did not want to go there. His gut was in knots. But he was going to do it. She deserved that much from him.

“Back in high school I told you all the time that you were too good for me.”

“Which was crap, Mick. Pardon me for saying so, but it was.”

“I felt that darkness, though, Allie. I didn’t want to sully you with it. You were so innocent.”

“Mick, even in high school we were doing things that weren’t entirely innocent, even though you wouldn’t help me lose my virginity.”

“Help you? You say that like it would have been a good thing.”

“Only with you,” she said quietly.

He couldn’t believe she still thought so. That adulthood hadn’t brought her more hindsight, especially knowing what she did about him.

“It would have been a disaster.”

“I don’t agree. I loved you.”

Hearing her say it made his heart twist painfully.

“We were teenagers, Allie. What did we know about love?”

“Maybe not very much. I only knew what I felt.”

“So did I. Fuck it—you’re right.” He stopped, ran a hand over his hair. “And I felt it was wrong to have you follow me down that road. That’s why when I left for college, I knew leaving you to find another kind of life—a better life without me in it to screw things up for you—was the only right thing to do.”

“That is so . . . all kinds of messed up. Did you never think of me after that, Mick?” she asked, her brown eyes burning with gold fire.

“I thought about you all the damn time.”

They were both quiet for several moments.

“But you never came back for me.”

“I knew I couldn’t do that to you. And then there was the accident.”

The fucking motorcycle accident that had ruined his life, ruined his future, ruined his sense of self and his place in his family.

He had a flash of that sick, skidding sensation, the world blurring, no control—no fucking control! Intolerable pain, then blackness. Waking up knowing he had fucked up, but not how badly. No, that had come later, when the doctors told him his leg would never be the same again.

“I’m sorry, Mick. I knew it must have been so awful for you, but you refused to see me when you were in the hospital, and after you got home.”

“Because I was ashamed,” he admitted. “It was damn stupid of me. I threw away everything that was important to my family. My opportunity to serve my city in the way my father and grandfather had. In the way my brothers do now. I couldn’t stand for you to see me like that. Defeated by my own fucking foolishness. It was bad enough things had had to end between us the way they did. I couldn’t face you. I couldn’t face anyone. I’m still ashamed, if you want to know the truth. It fucking haunts me. And that’s not something I say to anyone.”

*   *   *

IT HURT HER to hear him say it. To hear the old pain in his voice. To feel his body tense up.

“I’m sure they don’t hold it against you,” she said.

“I do.”

“Oh, Mick.”

She stroked the back of her hand down his cheek just to feel it, to let him know how she felt.

“Don’t pity me, Allie,” he said gruffly.

She pulled her hand back. But she knew him well enough not to feel wounded by his tone. “It’s not pity. I feel for you, that’s all. Does your leg still hurt you?”

“Yeah, it gives me some trouble, but I deal with it.”

She knew that was what the bare-knuckle fighting was about, that he felt he had to prove himself. She’d caught a glimpse or two of his limp, but he was still the strongest man she knew. He had nothing to prove to anyone. If only he could see that.

“Change of subject,” he suggested.

“Okay. I want to hear about what happened in college, when I came home. When we were together.”

“Fuck. Really?”

“That’s what this conversation was coming to.”

He scrubbed at his closely cut goatee. “That night never should have happened. It was all wrong.”

“It never felt that way to me. Other than the part where you left and never turned back.”

“Allie, you were twenty years old,” he protested. His arm was around her waist, holding her in his lap, and his fingers flexed hard.

“Yes, Mick, I was twenty. I wasn’t a child anymore, and I wasn’t a virgin by then. I’m even less a child now. And that night was everything I’d ever wanted. Not just the sex, but all of it. Being tied up with your belt. The smell of the leather. The biting. The spanking. The roughness of it all.”

“That can’t be true. You couldn’t have known back then.”

“You did. From what you’ve said, you knew in high school. Wasn’t that what you were trying to protect me from? But can’t you see, Mick? Once you gave me a taste for it, that was my fantasy, too. You gave me that tempting little bit, then you took it away. You took yourself away from me, too.”

“You cried that night after we had sex,” he insisted, his tone going harsh. “I saw the tears.”

“I was crying because that night with you was the fulfillment of every fantasy I’d ever had!” She almost wanted to cry now. “Fantasies I’d had when I was practically a child, things I didn’t understand until much later. But I loved it. I loved the passion of it, the intensity. The pain.”

He shook his head. “No, that’s not right. It can’t be.”

She took his face in her hands and gazed into his eyes. His were dark, shadowed, his brows drawn. He was so damn beautiful it made her ache.

“Mick, I wanted it. I wanted you, and I wanted all those things you did with me that night. You say you feel those desires were some kind of demon. If that’s true, then I have demons, too.”

He tried to shake his head again, and she tried to hold it firmly, but he took her hands and pulled them down.

“Don’t say that, Allie.”

“How can I explain this to you? It’s as if my being here with you, you knowing my kink history, counts for nothing, even though you said it did, that it’s made you think, but here we are again with you protesting my desires, Mick! That’s what it comes down to—with you still doubting that you can be with me.”

“Look, Allie . . . it isn’t only the stuff around the breakup in high school. A lot of it was—and maybe still is—the accident. That was something I couldn’t come back from. It only proved what I’d always known about myself. You deserve more than that. And what happened between us later, when we slept together . . . that was a mistake. I know I didn’t handle it well. I know I was an asshole. A lot of it was because I had demonized myself for wanting the kink, and it was only later that I learned to accept that about myself. But us not being together then was the right thing, Allie. You weren’t ready for full-on kink at twenty.”

She watched him in frustration. His face was shutting down again, a veil of stubbornness over his handsome features. But she wasn’t done with this conversation. “Mick, this is something I’ve been turning over in my mind for years. I’m going to tell you how I see it. You know that for those who are born to New Orleans, it’s in your blood. It lingers there no matter where you go. BDSM is the same sort of thing. If you’re born to it—the way you were, the way I was, whether or not you want to accept that—you can never shake it. It shapes the way you think, the way you respond to . . . everything. And those who were a part of unleashing those desires . . . you never forget them, either. That’s what you did for me, Mick. For me, not to me.”

“Christ, Allie. I can’t accept that.” He looked like he was fuming inside, color high on his chiseled cheekbones.

“Do you think there’s something intrinsically wrong with kink? Do you?” she demanded.

“No, of course not.”

“Then why is there something wrong about the combination of kink and me? I’m not that sweet teenager anymore. I’m not delicate. Haven’t I shown you that? What do I have to do to get past your relentless inflexibility, Mick? I would have thought you’d outgrown it by now.”

“I have. Some. I guess we’ve both changed a lot since high school. I just need some time to absorb it.”

“We have changed. And you need to learn to see me for who I am now.”

He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, and some of her anger dissolved under that small gesture.

“And you need to see me for who I am now, too,” he said. “You were so driven to play with me. You started to ask about us starting over. But Allie, do we even know each other anymore?”

He had a point. Was it Mick as he was now that she was in love with, or some image she’d carried in her head all these years? The idea made her stomach go tight.

“Some, yes,” she said, trying to figure it out even as she spoke. “I believe some parts of us never change. I know you’re still loyal to a fault. That you love your family. That you can still be grumpy as hell.”

A shadow of a grin quirked his mouth. “Yeah, you’re right on all three counts. I’m also more stubborn, maybe. More set in my ways. I’m sure I’ve developed a few more character defects over the years.”

“Probably,” she said.

“I should spank you for that.”

She batted her lashes. “Yes, please.”

“You are one bratty sub.”

She smiled. “Yes, I am.”

“What am I going to do with you, Allie girl?” he asked, his gaze narrowing. But his features had relaxed. So had his hold on her waist.

She laid a hand on his chest over the silver cross he never took off, felt the steady, reassuring beat of his heart beneath her palm. This was still Mick, wasn’t it? “How about getting to know me all over again? Letting me get to know you?”

“You make way too much sense for a woman who was deep in subspace only a half hour ago.”

“Then can we?”

His tone dropped until she had to strain to hear him. “When you look at me like that, I can’t refuse you.”

“Then kiss me, Mick. Please.”

He stared at her, that intense gaze seeming to look right through her. Then he bent his head and brushed her lips with his. So soft, at first, then he did it again, his hand coming up to hold her cheek, his thumb slipping under her chin to hold her still. To take control.

He pressed his lips to hers hard, making her moan. Pleasure and heat spiraled in her body, and her heart raced. His arm around her waist pulled her in tighter, the blanket falling away as he crushed her to his chest until the buttons on his shirt dug into her bare breasts, until they were crushed against the hard wall of his chest. Until there was no doubt in her mind that he was claiming her as his tongue slipped into her mouth.

Oh, it was good—his lips pressed to hers, his sweet tongue searching, twining, demanding. She gave him everything he asked for, with her mouth, with her pliant body, with the surrender she felt in every muscle and bone and cell. Desire surged, expanded until she was wet and wanting.

He pulled back and studied her face closely. Her heart was beating wildly.

“Allie?”

“Mick, I need you. Need you. Can we just . . . start there?”

He nodded. “Yeah.” He leaned in to feather his lips across hers once more.

Somehow they got up and together they got her clothes back on. He bundled her out the door and into his truck. He was gunning the engine and pulling onto the dark street before he asked her, “Your house?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

He glanced at her, then back at the road. “You’re right. It doesn’t. It never has.”

He reached over and took her hand, kept it in his as they moved through the city, down Magazine Street past the warehouses, under the Pontchartrain Expressway and into Allie’s neighborhood in the lower French Quarter. He made a turn onto Orange Street, then they were in front of her house, and he parked.

She waited while he walked around the truck to open her door. He lifted her down, his big hands around her waist, and his touch burned into her, making her need all the more acute. She could barely stand to wait as he led her up the walkway, up the steps, took her keys and opened her front door.

He grabbed her wrist, encircling it with his strong fingers.

“Bedroom,” he demanded. “Or it’s going to be right here on the hall floor.”

She nodded and led him down the narrow hall.

He was on her almost the moment they passed through the doorway, stripping her down until she was naked and barefoot once more. Her pulse was a hot, thready beat in her veins, her chest, between her thighs. Desire was something solid, palpable, nearly unbearable.

She put her hands on his chest, tried to unbutton his shirt.

“Mick . . .”

He took her wrists in his hands and pulled them down to her sides, held them there as he looked into her eyes, and she understood, her mind shifting gears. If they were going to be together right now they would be in role, submissive and Dominant. She understood his need to leash his desires. Understood how dangerous he felt he was to her.

She would show him tonight she could take it. That the full darkness inside him was exactly what she wanted, yearned for.

He moved around her, one hand on her body, sliding over her stomach, her side, her back. He stood behind her, and she waited for whatever would come next, her heart hammering, her body aching for more.

When he wrapped his arm around her neck and tightened just enough to restrict her breathing, she felt his command with an enormous sense of relief.

Oh, yes.

She closed her eyes as he pulled tighter. With his other hand he swept her hair aside and kissed the back of her neck tenderly. She loved the combination of roughness and gentleness. Even trusting him enough to do this bit of breath play with her was erotic. Her body flooded with desire, her legs going weak. Even weaker when he bit into her skin, just hard enough to hurt.

She moaned.

“Yeah, baby girl. I want to hear it now. I want to hear everything you’re feeling. Every groan. Every panting breath. Give it to me.”

She leaned her head back onto his shoulder, and he slid his hand into her hair, grasped it at the roots and pulled tightly.

“Oh . . .”

“You like this. It makes you feel taken over, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“I like the way your whole body bows when I pull your hair. The way I can see your yielding in the way you move. It’s beautiful. And so, so hot.”

He pulled harder, the pain making her gasp.

“You like that, too.”

It wasn’t a question, but she answered anyway.

“Yes, Mick.”

He pulled until her neck bent back as far as it could. He pulled harder and she had to arch her back. And groaned when he bent to kiss her throat right where it met her shoulder—her favorite spot.

“Oh, yeah, I remember, Allie. I remember everything about you,” he murmured against her skin before he bit her.

“Oh!”

Her legs nearly went out from under her, but he had a firm hold on her. He licked her skin, then bit again, harder this time, hard enough to make her draw in a long, deep breath as she tried to manage the pain. Then his tongue bathed the sore skin once more, a lovely sensation.

When he lifted her arm and bit into the delicate skin on her inner bicep, she gasped. He followed the bite with a soft, lingering kiss, then helped her straighten up and turned her around to face him.

“Can you stand by yourself?”

She nodded.

When he let her go she swayed on her feet, and he steadied her. “You okay, baby?”

She smiled. “Perfect.”

He stroked a finger across her cheek. “Yeah, I think you are. But let’s sit you down.”

He moved her until she felt the edge of her bed at the back of her knees, and he helped her to sit. He was so caring of her, so protective. It was one of the things she’d always loved about a dominant man. It was one of the things she’d always loved about Mick.

As he took off his shirt, she remembered what else she’d loved about him, but his chest and arms were even more developed now. The tattoo he’d gotten right out of high school, the fleur-de-lis that was the symbol for the city of New Orleans with the words New Orleans Fire Department in a bold font arching around it, stood out against his pale golden skin, and she noticed once more the Latin script on his forearm. She’d always loved tattoos on a man.

And his abs . . . they were absolutely flawless, a full six-pack that looked as if they’d been cut from granite. She’d felt those hard planes of muscle when he’d held her close, but seeing his body was another thing altogether. It was all pure male beauty, rough and masculine in the same way his face was. All of him matured in a way that made him seem all the more male.

The lines of his body flexed and rippled as he bent over to unlace his big black boots. When he straightened she saw the jagged scar on his ribs from the old motorcycle accident, and she wanted to reach out and run her fingers over that hurting place. She wanted to run her fingers over every inch of him. But that would have to wait until—if and when—there was going to be sex between them without these roles. He was clearly in charge now. And tonight, their first night together again, it couldn’t be any other way. She didn’t want it to be.

He kept his gaze locked on hers as he kicked his way out of his boots, then his jeans. He was bare underneath—that hadn’t changed since high school. She pulled in a breath at the sight of his cock—strong and masculine and so beautiful she had to lick her lips. She wanted to taste him. She needed him inside her. Her fingers fisted in the soft duvet.

“Good girl. Stay still for me.”

He watched her, both of them naked, two feet from each other. Her gaze traveled over his body, and there it was—the two long lines of heavy scarring on his left shin from the surgeries that had repaired the badly broken leg and put the metal rod in. She’d only had a small glimpse of it when they’d been in bed together that one time, but the room had been nearly dark then. Now she could really see what he’d been through. But she didn’t let her gaze linger—she didn’t want to make him uncomfortable—and his beautiful, naked body was a hell of a distraction.

She looked up at his face, saw his unflinching gray gaze on her, saw the power there, shivered with it.

He stepped closer, until she swore she could smell his desire, feel it running like surges of heat over her skin, making her nipples go hard. Excruciating to have him so close and not be able to reach out and touch him. Even more when he ran a hand down his stomach and brushed his fingers over the head of his cock. She bit her lip but remained unmoving, other than her clenching fingers.

“You are so damn beautiful,” he murmured. “I need you so badly it hurts. Are you hurting, too, Allie girl?”

“Please, Mick . . .”

He stroked himself once more, a long, lingering caress up the long shaft. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes.”

She thought he smiled at her, but she was too mesmerized by his hand on his cock, stroking with his fingertips, then fisting for a moment before beginning to stroke again.

When he took a step toward her she pulled in a breath, and realized only then she’d been holding it. One more step and he was right in front of her. It took everything she had not to reach out for him, to remind herself that he was still in charge.

He placed his hand between her breasts, and his palm scorched her, sent shivers of desire over her skin, making her nipples harden immediately. He pressed down, and she lay back on the bed. He went with her, one knee bent next to her thigh. She was acutely aware of every inch of him: his hand on her chest, his strong thigh next to hers, the scent of him seeming to drown her senses with every breath she took. And above her, his face, which was beautiful to her despite the scars, the sharp lines of jaw and cheekbones, or maybe even more so.

“Still,” he commanded.

She wouldn’t have tried to argue right now. And she loved the authority in his tone, her body going warm and weak all over.

He began a slow sort of exploration, his hand caressing, squeezing, pinching: her stomach, her ribs, her sides, and finally, her breasts. He smoothed his palm over the full flesh, along the underside, around the nipple. Her sex was absolutely flooded with heat, soaking wet. She had to force herself not to arch her hips, not to arch her back to bring her aching breasts closer to his touch.

“You need me to touch you, baby? Tell me. Tell me exactly what you want.”

“Oh, God. I want . . . everything. I want your hands on me. I want you to pinch my nipples hard enough to hurt. I want your hand between my thighs. I want your mouth everywhere. I want you inside me.” She had to pause to draw in a long breath. “But what I need . . . is for you to kiss me, Mick. Please.”

He smiled, then leaned in, hovering over her until his mouth was an inch from hers. His tongue darted against her lower lip. She moaned quietly. Waited.

He did it again, catching her upper lip with the sleek, warm tip of his tongue. She didn’t dare move. When he did it once more, this time one long, slow lick of her lips, she sighed. His tongue felt amazing, but she needed so much more.

“Please,” she whispered. Begged.

“Shh. You’ll have to wait until I’m ready, baby girl.”

Oh, that pet name again! That and being told she’d have to wait for everything she so desperately needed. He was killing her.

He shifted until his knee was between her thighs and his hands were braced on either side of her head. He lowered his face and brushed a kiss on her cheek, his lips soft and almost unbearably tempting. He moved to kiss her other cheek, leaving her mouth empty and wanting. But desire was pouring through her system like liquid fire, fueled by his teasing. Her pussy was drenched. He knew just how to play her, to bring her need to the edge, sharp as a knife blade.

He returned to her mouth, his lips feathering over hers, and she couldn’t help but groan her frustration as well as her pleasure.

“Spread your thighs,” he whispered, but there was no less command there despite the softness of his tone.

She did as she was told, opening her thighs for him. But he did nothing except kiss the corners of her mouth.

“Oh, God, Mick.”

“Is this hard for you, baby?” he asked. “Imagine how hard I am for you. I won’t let you look now, but I think you know. I feel like I’m about to explode. Pure torture not to touch you, to fuck you, with your naked body so close to mine. Do you feel the heat passing between us?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

“Like a volcano about to erupt, isn’t it? That burning hot. That’s why I can’t kiss you.”

“Mick!” she cried, her heart thundering.

A small chuckle from him. “Do you really think I’m not going to kiss you, Allie? Do you really think I can stand not to?”

“You’re a fucking sadist,” she muttered.

“Yeah.” He chuckled again. “A sadist who can’t resist you, girl.”

He leaned in and kissed her, kissed her so hard she was instantly breathless. His lips pressed against hers, hurting her, but she welcomed it. Welcomed his tongue as he pried her lips apart and plunged into her mouth.

She was panting against him, her tongue finding his, twining and wet. She’d never needed anything so much.

He was still kissing her when he grabbed her wrists and held her arms spread wide, held her down on the bed. He used his legs to kick her thighs even wider apart, and she spread as far as she could. But he didn’t touch her, other than his hands on her wrists, weighing her down, rendering her helpless. His demanding kisses rendered her every bit as helpless.

Her body was burning up, and still he kept kissing her—nothing more. She felt a trickle run down her thigh, her sex swollen with need. Her breasts ached, her nipples hard as stones. And his lips and tongue were torturing her in the most delicious way.

She lifted her head off the mattress to kiss him back harder, but he pressed her down again, telling her without words to submit to him—a power struggle she had no real desire to win.

Regardless of her wanting—a wanting she was drowning in—or maybe because of it, she felt a gear shift in her head. It was another level of submission, of giving herself over to him, to whatever he demanded.

He pulled away and whispered against her mouth, “Beautiful, baby. This is exactly what I wanted from you. What I needed to see before I fuck you.”

He stroked her hair, her cheek, ran his fingertips down the side of her neck, and at that moment it was as erotic as any other man with his hand between her legs.

When he brushed her nipple, she arched into his touch—she couldn’t help it.

He kissed her lips, a few soft, brief kisses, before moving down and grazing her nipple with his lips.

“Oh . . .”

He filled his hands with both breasts, flooding her body with another wave of heat before he bent and took one hard tip into his mouth.

She sighed her pleasure as he sucked, his mouth so hot and wet she thought she might come right then, her pussy clenching hard between her spread thighs.

“God, Mick. Yes.”

He sucked harder, eased off and bit into her swollen flesh, and she cried out.

“Ah!”

He pulled back and moved to the other side, pulling her nipple in with his lips, swirling his tongue over the tip, then sucking and biting, biting and sucking, squeezing her breast painfully with his hands. Pleasure was fire and rain and thunder all at once, her body hovering on the edge of release. When he thrust one thigh hard against her mound, her clit pulsed against the strong muscle there. He pressed again, and again and again. Her body exploded, white fire behind her closed eyelids, her legs shaking as she came, her fingers grasping the duvet, her hips thrusting against his thigh.

“God, Mick! Oh . . .”

She was still shaking when he asked roughly, “Condoms?”

“No, I don’t . . .”

“Hang on.”

She felt bereft as his body left hers for a moment, then he was back, and she blinked up to see him tearing a packet with his teeth. He reared back to sheath himself, and even watching him roll the latex over his rock-hard erection was purely erotic to her.

He leaned over her, took her wrists in his hands once more and drew them up until they were raised over her head. He wrapped them both in one big hand and held them there as he used the other to guide his cock to her opening.

“Yes, please, please,” she murmured as the tip of him rested against her.

“Look at me,” he demanded, his tone harsh, guttural.

When she raised her gaze to his she saw the need in his glittering gray eyes, in the looseness of his features. He kept his gaze locked on hers as he slid into her.

Her sex clenched around him as his thick shaft stretched her, and pleasure shivered through her like an electric current.

“Oh . . .”

“Baby,” he murmured. “Goddamn it, you feel . . . amazing.”

He gasped as he thrust, driving to the hilt.

She gasped out a breath as he filled her.

He was big, and it hurt. She didn’t care. She wanted all of him, every bit she could get. She arched her hips, taking him in.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he said. “Come on, baby. Fuck me. Fuck me as I’m fucking you.”

She did as he instructed, raising her hips to meet his as he drove into her. She saw every stab of pleasure mirrored in his eyes, heard every moan echoed in his deep groans. Sensation built, pushing deeper inside her even as he did, his cock a thick hammer inside her body.

When she felt his cock begin to pulse, he stopped, breathing hard.