Page 72 of Brazen Defiance (Brazen Boys #4)

Clara

T rips’ gaze darkens as I taunt him, and then he’s devouring me whole. Every inch of me lights up under him, and the only thing keeping me from ramping up the fight is the muttered pain in my abdomen reminding me not to be stupid.

I want to be stupid with this man, though.

The relief of getting the birth control shot, especially after I had some cramps and spotting yesterday morning, cuing me into the realization that it’s the exact right time to take it, unleashes the last of my reservations. At least with this.

Broad shoulders surround me, swirling tattoos over a scarred chest looking as lickable as ever. Add the weight of his dick against my leg and I’m practically rabid for him. Every time I tug against his restraint, my body buzzes in anticipation.

I nip at his tongue, his lips, his collarbone, whatever I can reach, and his free hand presses against my sternum, the trace of his fingers across my neck making my ears ring. “Please,” I whimper, needing more.

“Are you begging?” His grin is victorious, but then my legs band around his waist and force him closer.

“No. I’m demanding.”

He laughs, but it seems to get him moving.

His free hand lets off my chest, and then, with agonizing slowness, he directs himself into me.

“Oh God,” I mutter. “More.”

Another choked chuckle falls from him, and if possible, he moves even slower.

“Fuck you,” I groan, hitching my hips to get him deeper.

His hand grips my jaw, forcing my gaze to his, and I can feel my pulse in my fingertips. “We’re doing this my way.”

But when his hand shifts just enough for his thumb to brush my lips, I bite down on it, and in response, he slams into me, the burn inside matching the fire that licks my skin.

“Yes,” I breathe, releasing his finger.

“God fucking shit damn,” he mutters, his breath uneven, eyes hazy as he looks down at me.

I can’t help the smirk that folds my cheek, gleeful to see him coming apart above me.

Finally.

The sting of unwelcome tears bites my eyes, but that’s the last thing I want right now. “Is that all you got?” I tease instead.

“You’re going to be the death of me, aren’t you?” he says, abs and arms tight as he tries to gain control.

I rock, making friction where he’s giving me none, and his curses grow more creative. “I don’t want to kill you, Trips.” Twisting, I lick up the inside of his arm, my teeth pressing into the rock his bicep has turned into.

“How are we doing this?” he grunts out.

“So hard I can’t think about anything but the feeling of you inside me. Make me forget where I am, Trips. Give me your fear and your fury.”

His nostrils flare, his lips in a tight line as he takes in what I said. He swallows, and as his Adam’s apple bobs, I wait, hoping, but not knowing what he’ll do.

I trust him with this, with me, and I don’t want our first time to be with his father and whoever-the-hell-else watching us. No, I want this time to be just between the two of us.

But I want more than just a generic first time.

I want him to ride the edge of losing control, another chance to prove to me he can keep me safe, even if everything looks violent and out of control.

To trust him with my body and believe that his fury won’t harm me.

To prove to both of us that this can work, that the monster that I’ve been dragging out from the cage inside me can keep up with his.

He closes his eyes, and for the second time in too short of a time, I worry I’ve done something wrong. That my honesty isn’t helping us get to where we want to be, only popping up another barrier. “Trips?”

But then his eyes tear open, and he flings my arms apart, his strong hands wrapping around my wrists as he directs one of my palms between us and the other around the back of his neck.

“Nails. I want your nails in my skin,” he growls, fingers gripping my hips.

But before I can respond, he draws back, then slams in, a gasp escaping me from the force of it.

Again, he almost leaves me, only to rocket in so hard and fast that I can’t breathe, can’t think, am forced so far out of my head that I’m nothing but sensation.

My nails dig into his neck like he wanted, but it’s not a purposeful action, rather the result of needing to hold on, his grip on my hips the only thing keeping me from skidding up the bed with every thrust.

“Jesus,” I breathe out, and in response, he kisses and licks my neck.

“I want to mark you. I want to remember what I’m doing to you,” he says.

“Then do it.”

This time, there’s no hesitation as he latches onto my neck, the pain and pleasure spiraling through me, reminding me I’m supposed to be helping myself to the end, Trips’ hands fully occupied in keeping me from slamming my head against the headboard.

I swipe at my clit, and just that touch has me almost to the edge.

Then he shifts, latching onto the outside of one breast, gifting the delicate flesh there to the same treatment as my neck, but the burn more electric so close to my nipple.

I circle my clit faster, scrabbling against his back as he moves to the center of my chest, snatching up the inside of the other swell into his mouth.

This hickey has me shouting, a flood of pain and pleasure ricocheting through me, my body clenching him like it never wants to let go.

“Fucking shit, Crash,” he grunts, his rhythm failing him as he slams us together with no grace, no forethought, just chasing his pleasure as mine drags me away, my arms clenching him against me, my nipples rubbing against his chest as tremors wrack me.

With a strangled yell, he spasms inside me, his body arched back, the early morning light highlighting every dip and curve of muscle in stark relief.

“Fuck,” he whispers, his hair lank across his forehead as he gazes down at me. “Fuck.”

I open my arms, and after a moment, he collapses into them, our hearts thundering like an oncoming storm.

We stay wrapped together until Falk comes to get us, the silence between us finally not painful. Instead, it’s the place where we’ll hide our secrets, an ease built from another anchor point between us. A den in which our monsters get to meet, to mate, to lick their wounds and prepare for the hunt.

Because with this barrier down, the hunt can finally begin.