Page 61 of Single Malt
And I wanted more.
I slid my hands under his shirt, and his muscles twitched and flexed under my palms. The rough dips and ridges from his scars, the dusting of coarse hair on his chest, sent a shiver through me as memories from previous trysts came forward. I knew what it felt like to have him pressed against me, how sensitive my skin became from all the places his body came in contact with mine.
His hands moved down my back, creating a path of heat through my dress, and when they stopped just above my ass, I nipped his bottom lip. He took it as the encouragement I intended and dropped his hands lower, squeezing me even as he rocked his hips forward, confirming that I affected him as much as he did me. I ran my hands around his sides, lightly scratching with my nails, and it was his turn to bite, worrying at my bottom lip until it was swollen.
My back hit the door before I realized we’d moved, and a sense of déjà vu washed over me. This time, however, I wouldn’t be satisfied with only his fingers. I needed him inside me. He must’ve been thinking the same because I felt his hands between us and heard the unmistakable rasp of a zipper.
He broke our kiss, hunger making his eyes dark. “Condom.”
I shook my head. If he took the time to get one out and on, common sense would return, and this wouldn’t happen. Already I could feel it knocking about in my mind, threatening to ruin the moment.
“I have an IUD, and I’m clean.” I didn’t tell him that I hadn’t been with anyone since we’d first hooked up. That might’ve led to questions that would take us back to common sense and no sex.
“Me too. Clean, I mean.” A flash of humor went through his eyes, but it didn’t lessen the tension between us.
That would’ve frightened me if I’d allowed myself to think about it.
Fortunately, I didn’t need to worry about thinking much at all because he was acting, and nothing gets a person’s brain to immediately switch tracks as being lifted off their feet.
I automatically grabbed onto his shoulders and wrapped my legs around his waist. His gaze bored into me as his hands slid up my thighs to squeeze my ass again, this time only a thin layer of cotton and lace between us. He leaned forward, and his cock brushed against the damp fabric keeping him from where we both wanted him to be. With a jerk, he tore my panties off, and I gasped as the friction burned my sensitive skin. It would hurt later, but right now, it fanned the flame building inside me.
Our eyes locked together, and I gave a small nod, appreciating that even in this heightened state, one where we didn’t want to take the time even for a condom, he was confirming my consent. Maybe he wasn’t actually an asshole after all.
With one quick thrust, he was inside me, and I tried to cry out, but his mouth was there. He swallowed each sound I made, muffling his own moans. His strokes were short and fast, hard enough to take the breath from my lungs, and perfectly angled to get the friction on my clit that I needed to push me toward orgasm.
His tongue caressed mine, explored my mouth as if it was our first kiss, something novel and exciting, the almost languid movements at complete odds with the way he drove into me. The contrast had me squirming, my brain and body unable to reconcile the two, and I grabbed his arm, digging my nails in out of sheer desperation, the overwhelming need for some sort of outlet speaking to a primal part of me that I didn’t quite understand.
He hissed in pain, but before I could apologize, he grabbed my hand and pinned it above my head. His fingers threaded between mine, turning what could’ve been an automatic reaction into something surprisingly intimate. His fingers flexed around mine even as the muscles in his thighs and ass tensed with every thrust, and I was suddenly aware of just how strong this man was. Of how, if he so chose, he could overpower me, use me without a care for my own wishes. Despite that realization, I felt no fear because I knew he wasn’t that sort of man.
His rhythm faltered, and he made a sound in the back of his throat. A rush of power mixed with my pleasure. Pride that he had to fight for control over his own body because mine made him feel that good.
“Please tell me you’re close.” His voice was hoarse, as if he’d been screaming rather than kissing.
I nodded. “I am. Just a little more.” I was surprised to hear how rough my own voice was.
He shifted his stance, and the movement pushed him deeper than he’d been before, sending a jolt of half pain, half pleasure, racing along my nerves. He tightened his grip on my hand and my hip, grinding himself against me. Unable to fight his body any longer, he came first, his entire body stiffening, but the feel of him pulsing inside me, the way his body shuddered against mine, tipped me over the edge, and I squeezed my eyes shut tight, riding the pleasure, allowing myself those blissful moments of release where nothing mattered but the way he made me feel.
Forty
Brody
I didn’t understandhow the earth could move and time could stop at the same time, but that was what it felt like when I was inside her. The irrational part of me wanted to stay here forever, like this, but I knew that wouldn’t have been an option, even if we’d been somewhere private.
As it was, I could only let myself linger a few moments longer, and then I straightened, easing Freedom’s feet back to the ground. She made a soft sound as my now-soft cock slipped out of her, but when I looked at her face, her expression gave nothing away.
Guilt flooded me. “I didn’t…I mean, you aren’t…was I too rough?”
At the question, she looked at me, but her eyes only met mine for a split second before darting away. “No, you weren’t too rough.”
Color rushed back into her cheeks, and I wondered if it was from embarrassment or arousal. I didn’t know a subtle way to ask, though, so I kept my thought to myself. Maybe we’d have the chance to talk about it in the near future. Explore more things we both enjoyed, even if they embarrassed us. Visiting Club Privé and Black Masque had definitely opened up my eyes to some things I wouldn’t have necessarily thought of before.
But that was for later.
Right now, we needed to clean ourselves up and head back out to the party before anyone figured out that Freedom and I had disappeared together. I didn’t regret what we’d done, and I didn’t want her to either. Knowing what’d happened when I’d approached her at a public event, I doubted she would want stories going around about what she’d been doing here, true or not. None of those stories would help me with my business relationship here, either.
I didn’t regret it, but it definitely hadn’t been a smart move.
“Dammit,” Freedom muttered.