Page 19 of Twisted Ties

I barely get a look at him, but what I see is large and thick and something that is never going to fit inside me.

“Birth control,” I mumble, and he waves his hand through the air, a rubber sheathing his cock.

“I’m going to have you now.”

It isn’t a question. Although, I’m certain if I said no, if I told him to stop, he would. And so I give him my answer anyway. I want to be angry at him. I want to hate him. But I can’t. Because I want him and I want this more than anything I’ve ever known.

“Yes.”

He groans like I gutted him and then he’s thrusting inside me, my walls stretched wide and the wind whipped from my lungs.

“Oh god,” I gasp, but he doesn’t stop. He keeps going, deeper and deeper inside me until there’s no more of me to give and no more of him to take. The hook inside me spins uncontrollably, light and energy singing in every nerve. And I know Winnie is right. This is what fate wants. For us tangled and twisted together like this. Combined and one.

“Good girl,” he tells me nibbling at my ear. “Such a good girl. Going to open up for me now.”

And I don’t know what the hell he means but his words seem to have my walls relaxing around him and he pushes further inside me, reaching places I never have with my own fingers. I’ve never felt this full, this overtaken. I pant at the intrusion and, with a grunt, he bottoms out, our hips colliding.

“Shit,” he mumbles. But there’s no pause. He’s sliding out of me in the next heartbeat. I whimper, I don’t want him to go. I want him inside me. Deep inside me. Like before. I don’t wait long. He slams into me, the sofa skidding along the floor with the force. And oh, somehow that feels even better – so damn good, I can hardly breathe.

He levers himself up, holding my leg to my chest and, taking my hand in his other, pinning that above my head. He stares down at me, his gaze so hot it’s like fire, and then he does it again, grinding his way out, hitting every sensitive spot inside me and slamming back inside. I scream out but he wasn’t lying. He has no intention of going easy on me. It’s raw. Animalistic. Base.

And I don’t want it any other way. Not soft. Not gentle. Just like this.

This has been growing between us for so long. Wanting each other. Fighting it. Fighting each other. Denying what we both wanted. What we needed. This. Him crashing inside me again and again. Over and over.

I can feel the sensations coursing through my body, building, spiraling, upwards and upwards, edging closer and closer, but just as I’m hovering on the cusp, he groans, all the anger, the tension, the passion draining from his face, replaced by something reverent. He holds my gaze and thenhe’s collapsing down on top of me, crushing me into the soft belly of the sofa, our skin damp with sweat.

“Fuck,” he mutters, into my neck, “fuck.”

I lay there unable to move, trying to catch my breath, wondering what just happened.

He lifts his head. “I’m sorry.”

I screw up my nose. “Don’t say that. Don’t tell me you’re regretting it now.”

He frowns. “Did it feel good?”

I frown right back at him. “Do you care?”

He snaps off the rubber, tying it and tossing it towards a trash can. “Do I care?”

I lean up on my elbows. “Yes, do you care?”

Another of those growls rumbles in his throat, his eyes morphing dark and then he’s diving at me again, this time burying his face right between my thighs.

I gasp, the sensation of his mouth and his tongue on my most sensitive parts, like nothing I’ve ever known.

“Do I care?” he says again, lapping at my clit and making me squeal. “Of course I damn well care. So tell me. Was it good?”

“Yes,” I moan, “but I didn’t … I didn’t …” I can’t get my freaking words out. What he’s doing to me makes it hard to think straight.

“Come?”

“Hmmmm,” I moan as he circles me with his tongue again and again.

“Well, I’m going to put that right, right now.”

He continues to circle my clit, agonizingly slow, round and round but not over, not on.