Page 5 of Lovesick (The Minnesota Mustangs #1)

LOOSE ENDS

MERIT

C rew abandons his journey toward the bathroom, instead settling into the mattress to face me fully. “Are you sure? ‘Cause I’m fine with just ending things here for the night. You came, I showed off—that was pretty much everything on the agenda.”

This is the first guy I’ve met who doesn’t view sex as some business arrangement. He might even— gasp —see me as an actual human being. Maybe chivalry isn’t dead after all.

I’m not sure how I muster the confidence, but I summon it from somewhere dark and depraved, and I trace my fingernail along the length of his arm.

I pretend to pout. “Are you saying that you don’t want to fuck me?”

He growls—yes, growls —and forcefully seizes my wandering finger, making me gasp in surprise.

His hands are huge, calloused, capable of ripping me to shreds, but equally capable of caressing me in the softest of touches.

Right now, though, they verge on destructive, squeezing with every intent to make me regret my comment .

“That’s not what I’m saying at all, but if we do this, I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself.”

I know I’m not the greatest at reading the room sometimes, but I full-on laugh in his face. An obnoxious, pig snort of a laugh. Less so because of his statement and more so because I can’t imagine a world where a guy like him would be so hesitant to have sex.

“I’m not that irresistible, but I appreciate the vote of confidence,” I joke.

Crew wordlessly lets my wrist go, and although I catch the movement of his lips, whatever he says is too quiet for me to decipher.

He then clambers onto his knees so that he’s suspended over me, and I scoot my head down to rest comfortably on one of the pillows.

His blond hair dangles in front of his face, his muscular arms bracket the sides of my head, and his gigantic thighs bookend my hips.

Everything about him is daunting, yet there’s a contradicting softness in his eyes reserved only for me.

I make quick work of his zipper, using a combination of my hands and feet to tug his pants over his ass and down his legs—a redirect from the not-so-platonic staring contest we were having.

When I get to the last barrier standing between me and an unbruised cervix, I strip his boxers off rather unceremoniously, nowhere near prepared for the monster I’ve just unleashed.

If I thought my ex’s four-inch dick was big, Crew’s has to be anatomically incorrect.

Because there, protruding before me, is a cock the length of my forearm, the width of a GMO eggplant, and riddled with endless rivers of veins.

It sags from its heavy weight, and it doesn’t help that his hanging balls are just as intimidating.

Oh my God. What have I gotten myself into? I’m going to die tonight .

The polite thing to do would be to avert my eyes, but I can’t. “Oh, uh, that’s…you’re…”

“Well-endowed?”

All the saliva in my mouth evaporates. “Mm-hm.”

“We can stop any time you want,” he reassures me.

I shake my head. “I know. I just…I don’t think it’ll fit.”

Something dark kindles in his near-black eyes. “It’ll fit. I just have to be gentle. It needs to fit, Merit. I need to see that pretty little cunt taking all of me.” A whimper tags his sentence, and my pussy flutters at the prospect of a six-foot-three giant begging to be inside me.

“Do you have a condom?”

Crew rummages around blindly for something in his nightstand before procuring the coveted contraceptive, and since he’s still on all fours above me, I use my position to roll the latex over his throbbing cock.

I’m about to say something—probably idiotic—to fill the silence, but he takes initiative, bending down to mesh our lips together in a breath-stealing kiss.

An aurora borealis of color bursts behind my eyelids, and as cliché as it sounds, I feel like I’m floating.

All the school-related stress and parent-related worry have since fallen from my shoulders, no longer weighing me down or occupying my thoughts.

Right now, all that exists is me and Crew, and I want to hang on to this feeling for as long as I can.

The kiss is, dare I say it, life-changing .

Bursting with fireworks of passion and reverence that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to replicate with anyone else.

I follow his every move with undying devotion, letting our tongues graze in a choreographed dance, and the moment he pulls my lower lip between his teeth, I’m two seconds away from pouncing on this man and riding him like a prize-winning racehorse.

With my cunt spread and ready for the taking, Crew drags his cockhead against my dripping entrance, barely applying any pressure.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he whispers, hugging me close to his front before slowly, methodically slipping past my tight ring of muscle until he’s a quarter sheathed.

He possessively cradles my back with one arm—his jaw tucked into the pocket of my neck—and I watch as he undulates his hips to bury himself deeper.

I hiss in pain, gripping the life out of the sheets, a searing sensation cresting in my lower abdomen. I’m glad I came earlier, otherwise he’d be sliding down a waterslide without any water.

While my previous orgasm lubricates his shaft, I can’t imagine taking another inch of him as my inner walls stretch to lengths I didn’t even know were humanly possible.

He stills, his tone dripping with concern. “Are you okay?”

Physically? Yes. Mentally? Panicking.

I nod because I don’t trust my fat trap not to make some out-of-pocket comment about his penis size. “I’m okay.”

Tentatively, Crew pushes in a few more inches—careful not to augment the discomfort—and after what feels like a century, he buries himself to the hilt as his balls tap against my ass. I can feel him pressing against my cervix, the ten-ton pressure stunting my efforts to move.

He uncoils from his protective embrace, setting my back gently against the mattress. Then he rolls his hips once, twice, to gauge my pain levels. “Does it hurt, or can I keep going like this?”

Some of the adrenaline finally catches up to me, and the pleasure outweighs anything else standing between me, him, and getting the dicking of a lifetime. I grit my teeth, mentally prepare myself for an all-out ruination, and give him the go-ahead with an enthusiastic buck upwards.

“Keep going. Please. ”

Crew starts at a lukewarm pace, thrusting inside me in a consistent sequence, the blunt tip of his dick hitting my cervix harder each time.

The way his cock strokes my walls stokes the skyscraping fire residing in my belly, and I latch my fingernails onto his back, claiming my stake in sun-kissed skin.

Squelches and breathy moans marinate in the quietude of the bedroom.

“I was made for you, Merit. Look at you, milking every inch of me with your perfect pussy. I didn’t think you’d have anything left in you after I tongue-fucked your brains out earlier, but you just keep surprising me.”

I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or a complaint.

“Faster,” I order, chasing after a dimly lit spark and hoping it catches flame, hungering for Crew to fuck me like we’re rabid animals.

I know he’s trying to be gentle with me—and I can’t believe I’m saying this—but I don’t want him to be. Everyone’s always gentle with me. I want to bleed, to bruise, to hurt . I want to remember what it feels like to be treated as if I’m invincible.

“Is someone impatient?” he taunts, lowering his head before sucking my earlobe into his mouth.

I suppress a moan. “You’re holding back.”

“I’m a gentleman, not an animal.”

“I don’t want you to be either. I want you to be you ,” I tell him, my hands migrating from his shoulder blades to the scruff of his hair.

I tether them in the strands, running my nails across his scalp and loving when I fish a contented moan out of him.

Docile. Purring like one mean, deadly lion in my lap.

He pops off my earlobe, staring at me with a drowsy look in his eyes and a dopey smile tugging at his lips. It’s almost as if he’s drunk, but I know for a fact that he’s not. I can’t place it. It’s like he’s mesmerized by me or something.

A note of surprise rings in his voice. “Yeah?”

Certainty blankets me like an eerily familiar calm, banishing the tiny voice of worry in the back of my mind. My racing heart slows, the built-in anxiety takes a much-appreciated break, and the pain is nothing but a faint buzz.

“Yeah.”

This time, Crew doesn’t hold back. He’s emboldened to speed up the pace, and with each punishing plow into my pussy, the momentum has my tits recoiling and my spine bouncing against the bed.

Tears gather at the corners of my eyes, but I blink to keep them at bay, instead focusing on the warmth unspooling in the tight clutches of my stomach.

With each push and pull of his cock, I cry for more, feeling how slick the suction is between us—how easily he slides in and out, barely leaving my heat.

Vertigo claws at the edges of my vision as beads of sweat stick to every exposed surface of my body, and my cunt hollows in pulses around Crew’s length.

“So fucking greedy. That’s right. Use me, Merit. Suck my fat cock in real tight with your spoiled pussy and wring me dry . I want you to come so hard you stain the sheets. Can you do that for me? Can you make a mess?”

“I’ll ruin them.”

“Trust me, sweetheart, you could never ruin anything.”

I hook my legs around Crew’s lower back, inviting him as close as two people can possibly be, and the improved angle allows him to carry out his toe-curling pumps at a speed I can barely keep up with.

I drive my fingernails into his shoulder blades so hard that blood bubbles to the hatch-marked surface.

Every time we rock, the whole bed does too, and I really hope that Crew doesn’t have any roommates—more so for their sake than ours.