"Except he wasn't just any man."
"Exactly," he agreed, fingers starting to trace absentminded circles over my belly. Well, to him they were absentminded. To me, they were, ah, distracting? Effective? Hot as hell? Yep, all those.
"It sounds like you and your family were close." Past tense.
"The tightest a family could get," he agreed.
"Were they mad about you going to jail?"
"No. Devastated might be a better word."
"I don't understand then..."
"When I got arrested, when I realized the ramifications of the part of me that was capable of raging out, I decided I couldn't be that person anymore."
I had a feeling I knew exactly where this was going.
"So, I cut off ties with my family. I rejected letters and visitation. I tried to shut it down, disconnect. I figured the only way for me to be a somewhat better man was to completely dissolve the man I had been before. Which gets me back to the point," he went on, making me try to scramble to remember what the point even was, where this conversation even started. "Last night, I had no business coming to see you, tainting your nice little world with my presence. And I sure as fuck had no right to put my hands on you."
But, God, it felt so right to have his hands on me.
It was taking actual concentration to keep from grinding my ass back into his crotch.
"Why?"
"Because I can't be around you and keep myself disconnected. And I can't be connected and still be sure that I won't rage-out again."
That was, well, fair.
It wasn't that typical 'you're too good for me' bullshit that guys tried to pull. It was somehow simpler, and much more honest than that. He didn't trust himself. He was scared about what might happen if he lost even a small bit of control. And a big part of me went out to him over that. I couldn't imagine how it felt to have something inside of you that you had never been able to control in the past, but wanted more than anything to be able to hold control over in the present and the future. It must have been terrifying to know that you were capable of such violence.
And it must have been absolutely devastating to know that to keep that part of you tamped down, the only solution you could come up with was to stop being the man you had been all your adult life, to cut ties with the people who knew you only as that man.
Life must have been hard and so, so cold for him for so long.
My heart went out to him.
And I wanted to maybe just be a little bit of warmth he could feel comfortable around.
He deserved that, didn't he?
"Have you ever raged-out on a woman?" I asked, and felt his whole body go tense behind me.
"Of course not."
"So, I don't have to worry about that with you."
There was a pause before his arm tightened around my lower stomach. "I'd never hurt you."
I wasn't sure why I was about to say it, why I was going to agree to something that, thus far in my life, had never been something I wanted. Maybe a part of me realized it was different. It wasn't exactly casual, in the traditional sense of the word, if there was meaning behind it. Right?
"How about, when you're here, you can connect with me?" I suggested, going ahead and leaning almost fully back into him like I had been wanting to do since he moved in behind me.
"Autumn..."
"I know what I'm offering, Eli. I'm just seeing if you are interested. You want a safe place to reconnect? Why not here? Where there is no one to flip your switch, where you don't have to worry about rage or family or the man you were versus the man you are trying to become. You can just be. With me. That's it. No expectations."
Except maybe some mind-blowing orgasms.
The pause after my words made me suddenly wish I could just suck them right back in. My belly flipped uneasily as my pulse seemed to start to pound in my throat, wrists, and temples.
"I just want to be clear on what you're offering here," he said, his warm breath teasing over the skin of my neck.
Anything he wanted, that was what I was offering.
But, ah, I guess that wasn't the best thing to say to a man you hardly knew.
"Sex. A friend. Whatever you need on any given day."
There. That didn't make me sound like a giant slut because I wanted him so badly, right?
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why would you offer me friendship or sex?"
Okay, so there was a very distinct pre-orgasm tightening just hearing him say the word sex. My body was responding like I was still some blushing virgin. Weird.
"Well, we've kind of had a friendship going on and off for the last couple of years," I hedged.
I should have known he wouldn't let that slide.
"Why do you want to offer me sex, sweetheart?" he asked, his hand pressing in just in the center of my lower stomach where the pressure was already almost unbearable, like he knew that fact, and was more than willing to exploit it. Which was, well, hot. "Is it because your panties are soaked just standing here with me? Is that it?"
Good God, yes.
My head fell back against his shoulder as I took a long, steadying breath.
"I'll take that as a yes," he said, voice low. "Though, just to make sure, I should probably investigate further, don't you think?"
I felt my lips twitching at that, loving when a man could play a little, when sex wasn't always serious.
"That might be wise," I agreed, taking another deep breath, not surprised when it came out shaky.
I barely got the words out before his hand was suddenly in the hair at the base of my neck, pulling, twisting, and using it to turn me around, slamming me back against the counter as his lips crashed down on mine.
I had no idea what I had been expecting, but whatever it was, this was harder, hotter, without a shred of self-control.
His lips bruised into mine. His fingers pulled my hair until my lips parted on a whimper, giving him the space to surge inside.
My hands fisted in his shirt, my nails digging crescents into the skin beneath.
His hand released my hair, grabbing the back of my skull instead, tilting backward to give him better access, half curling me over the sink as he did so.
His lips ripped from mine, leaving them swollen and overly sensitive, to trail down my neck, his scruff scraping over my delicate skin in a way that I knew there would be beard burn there for a day or two after, and finding myself almost unreasonably pleased by that fact.
"You smell fucking amazing," he growled as his teeth scraped my neck, sending a visible shiver through my body.
I had no idea what I smelled like since I was pretty sure after my shower this morning, I hadn't remembered to put on lotion or perfume. But, hey, if my natural scent was turning him on, I was willing to give them all up permanently.
His fingers found the bottom of my tee, not even pausing before sliding under, grabbing my bare breasts in his large palms, thumbs flicking over my half-hardened nipples, dragging a ragged moan out of me.
"Fuck," he growled, yanking the shirt up and leaning down, sucking one of the hardened points into his mouth, lavishing over it with his tongue as his thumb and forefinger pinched the other one painfully.
My body, so unused to touch for so long, and having long-since forgotten the sensation of pain/pleasure through my system, trembled hard as my leg raised, wrapping around his hip, pulling his pelvis to mine, groaning shamelessly when his hard cock pressed into me through his jeans.
"Off," I growled, raking my hands down his back to grab his shirt. "Take this off."
I needed to feel his skin on mine like I needed my next breath.
He pulled backward, reaching down to pull off his sweater. I meant to reach to pull my tee off, but as his belly and chest got exposed, I couldn't do anything but watch. Each inch of exposed skin was like a treat. His skin was somewhat pale, likely thanks to years inside, but no less delicious as it hugged the subtle outlines of his abs. They weren't the sam
e abs they had been in that poolside picture from his Instagram, but they were abs nonetheless, and I had a sudden urge to lean forward and run my tongue between them.
Then the shirt was up and off him, showing off his strong chest, the hint of ink on his upper arms, the small scratches on the back of his neck from my fingers the night before.
My hand reached out, running over the red indentations. "Met this chick," he said, voice all gravel. "She couldn't keep her fucking hands off me," he added, smirk devilish.
"Really?" I asked, head tipped to the side, lower lip nabbed by my teeth. "Did she do this?" I asked, finger trailing down the center of his chest, moving across to circle his nipple before moving between the center of his abs, feeling my sex clench when the muscles tensed under my touch.
"Not quite," he answered, voice getting rougher still.
"Hmm. Did she do this?" I asked, hand moving down flat to cup his cock through his jeans, making a low, primal growl rip from his chest.
"You wanna play, baby?" he asked, and the promise in his wicked smile made my belly go liquid as he suddenly reached out, yanking the bottom of my shirt up and over my head, but then dragged it back down, pinning my arms at my sides. "I can play."
He turned me too fast for me to respond, pushing my entire upper body down against the counter, my sensitive nipples meeting the cold quartz with a whimper, then grinding his cock against my pussy and ass, the lightweight material of my pajama pants providing no barrier at all.
"How many times did you come last night thinking about me?" he asked, thrusting against me, then grinding against me in a circle, making his cock hit my clit perfectly. My choked whimper was not answer enough. "Tell me or this ends right now."
His cock pulled back and surged forward again, almost tripping me over the edge. "Four!" I cried out, desperate for more.
"And it still wasn't good enough, was it?" he asked, pulling back, fingers slipping just inside the waistband of my pants and panties, hooking, but not pulling down.
"No."
"Didn't think so," he agreed, snagging the material, and yanking down until I could step out of them, leaving me bare to him except for my little straight jacket of a t-shirt.
Never having been one for insecurity, shrugging off the conservative guilt I was raised in around the time I first touched a cock and had a hand touch my pussy, there wasn't even a thought to wanting to cover up. In fact, it was just the opposite. There was a strange, primal, raw urge for him to stare at me, to look at the round cheeks of my ass, to see the wet desire of my pussy. The urge was so strong that I felt myself tipping my butt up at him, inviting him to inspect what I was offering.
I wasn't surprised when he let out a low groan before his hand slapped down on my cheek, then his fingers kneaded in slightly.
His finger slid down and inward, teasing over my inner thigh, but careful not to give me any kind of relief from the torment.
"Tell me, did you think about me while I was inside?" he asked, one finger tracing the seam where my sex met my thigh, making me try to instinctively move my hips to get his touch to shift inward. But he wouldn't allow it. "Tell me," he demanded.
"Y... yes," I gasped out, my legs almost shaking from the frantic need between them.
"Doing this?" he asked, finger finally sliding up my slit and working circles around my clit, making my vision go white for a moment, sure I was going to come, certain there wasn't a force on Earth that could stop it.
Except him taking his finger away, that is.
"No," I whimpered, shoving my ass back toward him, completely shameless with the need for release.
"And maybe this too?" he suggested, and the next thing I knew I felt his hands holding my thighs apart as his tongue replaced his finger, sliding between my lips and rolling just around the outside of my clit, hinting at relief without offering any.
The tortured moan came from somewhere deep inside as my fingers spread, wanting to reach out, wanting to grab his head and hold him there, wanting contact, but being denied everything but captivity.
Just when I thought I couldn't take anymore, his lips closed around my clit, sucking it in strobes.
And I fucking shattered.
The orgasm ripped through my body with an intensity that made me struggle to keep on my own feet as he kept working me, kept intensifying it, dragging it out.
It wasn't until I felt completely wrung out that I felt the brush of his jeans against my ass before he reached down to snag the center of the back of my shirt, yanking me upward, making me arch my back, causing my breasts to press out, something he noticed because his other hand went there, squeezing one just to the point of pain before working the nipple in gentle circles.
"Bedroom," he demanded, voice a hoarse growl. Before he even finished speaking, I was shaking my head. "Why not?"
"Coop is in there," I told him, and as my brain cleared of the sex fog it had been in, I could hear him whimpering and scratching to get out.
There was a low growling noise that I took for disappointment or frustration, or both.
"I have condoms in my purse," I supplied, thinking maybe that was the hold up since everyone stored them where they tended to need to use them - near the bed. Even though I didn't have casual sex, I carried them everywhere, occasionally dropping them in the bathrooms in bars, just in case anyone needed some.
I barely finished speaking and his arm was reaching for it, undoing the main zipper, then going instinctively into the second zipper that every woman knew was tampon and condom storage. He came back with a condom that was a fall promotion, pumpkin spice flavored, and made a weird laugh/snort hybrid before I heard the slide of a zip, seeming to drown out any other thought in my head.
The desire, sated just a moment before, came surging back in a wild wave, completely taking me under again.
There was a whoosh.
Pants hitting floor.
A scrape of metal as he kicked the material to the side.
A crinkle of a wrapper.
Just when I was sure I was going to feel him surge inside, to put an end to the clawing need for fulfillment, his hands grabbed my hips and turned me.
Brilliant eyes on mine, he lifted one of my thighs, coaxing it around his hip to fold over his lower back, opening me up to him. And when he reached for the other thigh, his hard cock pressed against me as his hands sank into my ass, holding me aloft as he walked through my kitchen and into the living room, turning, and dropping down on the couch.
He had barely managed to sit before his hand was at the back of my neck, yanking me down to seal his lips over mine.
I struggled against the shirt, the urge to reach between us, grab his cock, and position it where I needed it to be so I could press down and take him in something akin to obsession.
But I couldn't get free, the material straining too hard against my shoulders.
So I dropped my hips, and ground my pussy against his cock, whimpering into his mouth as the head pressed into my clit. In response to the sound, his hand crushed almost painfully into my skull.
I knew he was lost too, likely way more lost than I was.
Six years.
It had barely been two for me, and I felt like I was losing my grip on my sanity every second that I didn't come.
I rode him, like we were fumbling teenagers too scared to go all the way, his hardness giving me just enough friction to drive me upward, to get me just right to the brink.
His lips ripped from mine as his hand sank harder into my ass, hard enough that there was a chance I would actually have bruises - a thought that made my sex clench threateningly - and lifted up.
Finally.
That was all I could think as my hips rose, as he reached between us to press his cock up against the entrance of my pussy, holding it there as a promising pressure for a long second, before surging his hips upward, and filling me to the hilt.
"Oh, my God," I cried out, fingers curling into my palms because they couldn't curl into him to hold on.<
br />
"Fuck," he growled back, closing his eyes, and taking a slow, deep breath.
He was seeking control. After so long a dry spell, I couldn't imagine how hard that would be to find.
And I didn't need it.
I didn't need him under control.
I needed him moving inside me, I needed just a moment or two and I would be crashing, and he could come with me.
"Eli," I called out, watching as his eyes slowly slid open, almost pained looking. "Fuck me," I demanded, moving my hips in a circle on his lap, making a low rumbling sound move through his chest.
Whatever hold he had on his control was lost then as his hand moved to hold onto my thigh and he started thrusting upward into me - hard, fast, unrelenting.
"God, yes," I whimpered, folding forward to rest my head in his neck as my hips slammed down to meet each thrust, taking him as deep as my body would allow.
His hand left my thigh, slipping into my hair, and yanking backward. "I want to watch," he said in a harsh whisper as his other hand moved between us to start working my clit.
It was seconds.
Just seconds.
And he was making the orgasm from just a moment ago feel like child's play as another, stronger one broke through me, making my breath and cry catch in my throat for the first hard, deep pulsation, then topple out together in a gasping sob as the pleasure kept coming.
"Fuck, Autumn," he growled, surging through it even as his entire body got tight, trying to hold on until I was spent, then slamming deep, cursing out my name again as he came.
I collapsed forward into him, body trembling slightly in unexpected aftershocks, something I hadn't felt in years, something that I usually only experienced after unusually intense sex, or strong connection, or both.
"Come here," he said, when he tried for the second time to peel me off of him. This time, he yanked harder on my shirt, giving me no choice but to move. As soon as I was pressed back, he reached out, gently snagging the material of my shirt that had held me prisoner the whole time, and releasing me of it. His hand rose, finger tracing down my jaw for a moment, eyes almost reverent. "Okay, now come back here," he demanded, pulling me down toward his chest.
Eli (Mallick Brothers Book 4) Page 10