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7
Her
I believe him.
I think that’s where our co
We’re two tortured souls who’ve found each other by chance. And maybe all I need is to get my fill of him so I can cut this co
Once this hot and sweaty masterpiece takes place, I will pull his ripcord and fast-track him in the opposite direction.
Toodaloo, motherfucker.
No emotion. No more attachment.
His lips curve, his growing smirk alluding to that slight dimple in his left cheek. My fingertips scratch over the rough stubble of his jaw. Harsh, yet too damn inviting.
My tongue snakes out, gliding over my tingling lower lip. My body is out of control. My heart vibrates beneath my ribs, my pulse pounds, my stomach flutters with a mass of tickling butterflies.
I release his throat, my fingers gliding over his neck, his chest, before dropping to my side.
I can’t do this.
I can’t continue, and I can’t stop.
He steps back, kicking off his shoes, then grips the hem of his sweater and tank, and pulls them over his head, exposing more sculpted flesh. Not only muscles, but scars. His body is a canvas of brutality, with inch-long lines of puckered skin across his rib cage and a circular mark above his right hip.
He watches me watching him, wordlessly, almost breathlessly.
“You’re accident-prone,” I murmur.
“I guess I am.”
“But still not the violent type, right?” I meet his gaze.
“Definitely not.” His eyes glimmer with the slightest tease. “I hate the stuff.”
I’d be a blind fool not to pick up on his sarcasm. It’s there. Right there. In his grin, in his intensity, in the almost scary way he controls me without even knowing it.
Oh, God. I’m dancing with the devil.
And I love it.
He’s dangerous. There’s no doubt. And those non-violent scars around his ribs look awfully similar to stab wounds. The circular mark above his hip speaks of a bullet injury. Or maybe that’s just my imagination talking, and they’re only construction injuries. Laboring accidents.
Either way, I should pull his ripcord now. I should seriously give him a merry finger-wave as I boot his ass out the door.
I should. I should. I should.
Instead, need wraps itself around me, pulling my limbs, crushing my chest. For once, I feel… I just feel. I’m not hollow. I’m not adrift. This man has me tethered to something, his presence keeping my feet on solid ground.
“Come here,” he growls.
There are mere feet of space between us, but he demands my submission. He wants me to succumb.
I can’t deny his request. I inch forward, my chin lifting to keep our gazes co
“Good,” he purrs, slicing a hand around my hip to drag me into his body.
I gasp, and he steals the sound with his mouth, his lips overtaking mine, his tongue delving deep. He kisses me into mindlessness, those strong arms wrapping around me, his hands gliding down my back to cup my ass. He lifts me in a callous jerk, positioning my pubic bone against his hard cock.
I spread my legs, wrapping my thighs around his waist to grind against him. Warmth flood my pussy, my body eagerly preparing for pleasure. There’s never been a better feeling. A greater sensation.
I wrap my arms around his head, tangling my fingers in his hair. His scent is seduction, rich from aftershave and etched in sweat and virility. His kisses are strong, and yet there’s a slight glimmer of softness. The most delicate swipe of affection.
My heart hurts. I don’t want it to, but it does. It clenches. It weeps.
“Fuck me,” I demand into his mouth.
He growls and strides toward the other side of the room. My bed. He climbs onto the mattress, still holding me, still kissing me, then guides me to lie down as he kneels between my spread thighs.
The sight is profound. His eyes are wild. Carnal. His broad chest heaves with energized breaths. Veins pulse from his carved arms.
I visualize his dick again, the generous size taunting my mind. I’m going to be disappointed. I just know it.
He shoves down his shorts, his underwear, and his thick cock is revealed. The length is above average, but the girth… My God.
I suck in a breath and my pussy clenches. Nope, not disappointed at all. I want to learn every inch of that hardness. I want it everywhere. Anywhere.
“You got protection?”
I nod and swallow to ease my drying mouth. “Top drawer.”
He leans over me, pulls open my nightstand, and retrieves a loose condom. He’s efficient. There’s no hesitation. No reluctance. He rips open the packet, sheaths his length, and stares down at me. “Take off your clothes.”
I ponder a protest. Playing hardball could be fun, but I’m too far gone for games. I tug the long-sleeve top over my head and wiggle my ass out of my tight sports pants to lie before him in my underwear.
“I said, take it off before I rip it off.”
My stomach flips, and again, I contemplate dissent. This time it’s for my protection. To keep a buffer between me and all the feels. I want him too much. Not only his lust, but the distraction. The co
“Fine. Keep them on.” His hands snake up my i
I shudder. “And what if I don’t?”
His gaze glides to mine as a lone finger parts my slick folds. “Then I’ll enjoy changing your mind.”
That finger breeches my entrance, sliding inside me. It’s a tease, the slightest penetration leaving me anticipating the considerable size of his dick. His free hand slides over my stomach, the callouses on his palms scratching, marking my skin.
He grasps the front of my bra, yanking the cups to the sides. I’m exposed to him, the dislodged material plumping my breasts, creating a mass of impressive cleavage.
“I’ll have fun breaking you in.”
I push to my elbows and clench my pussy around the lone digit. “You’re too late to break anything.”
His brows furrow, and I lean up to wrap my arm around his neck, pulling him down to me before he can question my response.
“Fuck me,” I whisper in his ear and lick his neck. He’s salty, the lingering sweat sinking into my tongue like an aphrodisiac.
He snarls and jerks his hips, the head of his cock finding my entrance. I feel his hand down there, positioning his length, then in one harsh thrust, he’s deep inside me, stretching my muscles, blinding me with pleasure and the slightest twinge of torture. I moan, clinging to his neck as he shoves into me. Pulse after pulse. Slam after slam.
“Fuck.” His curse is ferocious, his movements merciless. He rests his forehead against mine, looking me in the eye. “Who are you?”
“Your fantasy,” I tease with a kiss, digging my nails into his shoulders.
“No shit.” He bites my lower lip, then sucks it into his mouth. “A fucking nightmare, too.”
“I sure am.” I chuckle.