Edge Of Midnight (The Mccloud Series Book 4)

by Shannon McKenna

  “But I’ll be exhausted, too,” she complained.

  “That’s your problem, not mine.” He pushed her down onto her back. “Right now, it’s your turn again.”

  “My turn for what?” She braced her hands on his hot, hard chest. She could feel the rough puckers and ridges of a scar beneath her hand.

  “To touch yourself. I want to watch you come again. I love that.”

  She felt desperately exposed as he pressed her knees wide open and stared at her. “Show me how you do it,” he urged.

  She swallowed, biting her lips. “But I don’t do it like this.”

  “No? Then how do you do it, baby?”

  She realized that she had never told this to anyone in her life.

  “With my legs closed, tight,” she admitted. “Squeezing really hard. I don’t know if I can do it any other—”

  “What if I help?” He seized her hand, guided down between her legs. “Put your hand in your pussy, and I’ll play with your clit at the same time. We’ll get you where you need to go.”

  Her fingers slid into the silken, slick opening of her sex, and she fell back onto the bed, staring up at the shadows on the ceiling. He pushed her legs wide, and put his mouth to her.

  Her legs flailed, slipping on the satin comforter. His hair tickled her thighs, her groin, his beard stubble rasped her skin, the hot vortex of his lips fastened over her clitoris. He sucked, stroked, swirled. So much intense sensation, her brain couldn’t process it all. She fell to pieces, delicious explosions that went on and on, and he watched it happen, hot-eyed and pleased with himself. His gaze made her feel so vulnerable. The hot quivering began to shake her face, her chest.

  Sean didn’t seem turned off by her weeping. On the contrary, when she opened her eyes and dashed away the blur, she found him straddling her, his penis hot and hard against her belly. Waiting.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I can’t seem to stop.”

  “It’s OK,” he said. “Lots of girls cry when they come.”

  That infuriated her. She tried to shove him off, but he leaned forward, pinning her to the bed. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “Lots of girls, huh? Have you had so many that you can run your own personal statistical analyses?”

  “Why should that bother you? I’m just a convenient piece of meat for you, right? What difference does it make how many girls I’ve had?”

  She shoved at his hard chest. “It bugs me to be lumped into a category. There’s the umbrella group, Girls Sean Has Screwed, and there’s subsets, like Group F-12b, Girls Who Cry When They Come. Just slot me in, file me with the rest of the teeming masses. Get off me!”

  “I thought you wanted to keep this emotionally uninvolved.”

  “I guess I suck at that,” she said. “Surprise, surprise. Get off.”

  Sean rolled off, and she struggled into a sitting position, pulling her robe around herself. “Time out,” she said. “This isn’t working. It’s making me feel worse, not better. I can’t afford to feel any worse.”

  “Not working?” He looked incredulous. “You came like crazy.”

  “It’s more complicated than that.” She jumped off the bed, belted the robe. “I’m sorry to leave you high and dry, but I—”

  “Oh, you won’t, babe. Forget it. I’m not going anywhere.” He spun her around and pushed her up against the wall. “Not now.”

  She stared into his eyes. The peonies on the wallpaper pulsed in her peripheral vision like a fever dream. Her pulse pounded. She was terrified, aroused, furious. He jerked the robe open, cupped her breast, fingers tracing shivering circles around the under-curve. He bent down, took her nipple in his mouth, his tongue a hot rasp of need.

  He cupped her face, smoothing away her sweat-dampened hair. “I would never hurt you. You know that, don’t you?”

  She thought of all those nights spent sobbing until dawn. All those years of useless therapy. “I cannot believe you have the nerve to say that to me,” she hissed. “You have no clue, do you? You idiot—”

  He cut off her words with a frantic kiss, but the aggression melted down into ravenous sweetness, and the kiss went wild, tongues seeking, limbs twining. They wanted to punish each other, devour each other.

  He pulled his mouth away. “Too late to blow me off,” he said. “We passed that point of no return, oh, maybe three orgasms ago?”

  “Don’t muscle me around, you ape!”

  “Or what? You’ll call Mommy and Daddy, or Blair the Ass-wipe Madden to save you? I’d like to see you explain why you’re stark naked and cherry red and slippery with lube all the way to your knees.”

  “Goddamn you, Sean—”

  “How about if I just slide down here—” he did so, dragging wet, hungry kisses down over her breasts, her belly, “to my knees and lick some more of that sweet pussy juice off of the royal clit.”

  Liv struggled, but he held her hips and pressed his face against her mound, his long tongue squirming its way into the divide of her sex, fluttering skillfully. “Stop,” she begged. “I can’t take any more.”

  He lifted his face away. “And when you’ve had enough orgasms, you’ll already be in the perfect position to kick me in the face.”

  She wrenched out of his grip, and pitched off balance with her own frantic momentum. Sean lunged to steady her. They careened against the dresser, and caught the cord of the lamp. It clattered to the floor along with them. They landed on her soft, fuzzy pink hooked rug.

  She was pinned beneath his big, hot weight. He was so steely hard, heavy and huge, vibrating with emotion. “Aw, shit. You OK?” he asked breathlessly. “Did you hurt yourself?”

  She shoved at his chest. “You weigh a ton, and you’re squishing me into jelly, and you’re a rude, horrible jerk, but other than that, no.”

  He lifted himself off her rib cage, still keeping her trapped beneath him, and grabbed a pillow that had tumbled off the bed in the tussle. He tucked it behind her head, and scooped her hair, spreading it out over the pillow. Kissed her face, her forehead, her cheeks, her throat.

  “I didn’t want to hurt you,” he whispered. “Really. Ever.”

  Then why did you do it? The question echoed between them.

  He groped for his jeans and plucked a condom out of the pocket. He ripped it open with his teeth and rolled it on himself with careless expertise. She felt like a virgin sacrifice, splayed out wide on a silk draped altar. Offered up to a sensual, merciless demigod.

  She couldn’t breathe, she was trembling so hard. He pressed against her, and she gasped at the electric shock of contact. He swirled himself around, caressing her folds. She squirmed towards him, biting her lip to muffle the eager, sobbing sounds she made.

  He pressed deeper, staring into her eyes as he bore down. Oh. Whoa. Yikes. He was huge inside her. Her nails dug deep into his arms.

  Rap, rap, rap. “Livvy? Honey?” It was her mother’s sharp voice. “We heard noises. Is everything all right?” Rap, rap, rap. “Livvy?”

  Sean went motionless. His body began to vibrate with laughter.

  He pressed his face against her throat. “Yeah, Livvy.” His tiny, taunting whisper tickled her ear. “Are you all right?”

  She shook with laughter. It was the ultimate moment of no return. And she had to get herself under control, or the choice would be taken out of her hands. In the worst possible way.

  “Livvy?” Rap, rap. Her mother’s voice rose in pitch.

  She tried to coordinate her trembling vocal cords. “Ah, no, Mother, I’m fine,” she called. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you. I was moving my suitcase, and I knocked over a lamp. Sorry I scared you. Good night.”

  “I heard you talking to someone,” her mother said suspiciously.

  “Yes. I was, ah, talking to Alison on my cell phone.”

  “Ah. Can I come in? I want to talk.”

  Liv’s fingernails dug into Sean’s shoulders. “Um…I’m indecent, Mother. I was about to step into the shower. Can it wait?”


  Her mother made an irritated noise. “Oh, I suppose. Set your clock for five AM. We’re interviewing bodyguards tomorrow. Sleep well.”

  “OK,” she said. “You, too.”

  Her footsteps receded. Liv’s eyes were shut tight. Her teeth almost chattered. Sean’s lips teased her mouth open, touched the tip of his tongue to hers. Her hands skittered over his chest, feeling every dip and curve, the coarse rasp of hair, his nipples. The air felt heavy against her skin. She felt his heartbeat pulsing in the glow between her legs.

  “Thank God,” he whispered. “Your waffling was driving me nuts.”

  Her eyes popped open. “I was not waffling!”

  “No?” Sean’s voice was a challenging whisper. “First I finger fuck you, then you lick my cock like a lollipop, then you sob in my arms, then I suck on your clit, then you tell me to fuck off and leave. Good thing we’re on the ground with my cock inside you. I was getting dizzy.”

  She dragged in a sharp breath as he penetrated deeper. “I can’t believe you can be a smart-ass at a time like this. Oh. My. God.”

  “Am I hurting you?” He went still, his body vibrating.

  “Duh,” she muttered. “You’re enormous. It’s so typical. Like everything else, that would have to be ridiculous, too.”

  His chest jerked with a burst of muffled laughter. “I don’t think anybody’s ever called my cock ridiculous before. He doesn’t mind, though. Not while he’s finally squeezing into that tight, juicy pink flower of a pussy after years of dreaming about it. Can I give you more?”

  She nodded. He was sliding more easily now, oiled by her own body’s writhing eagerness. His weight shifted. Click, and she felt the pressure of light against her eyelids. “Open your eyes,” he said.

  She did. The pink silk lamp lying on the floor cast a rosy pool of light. Sean grabbed a pillow off the bed and tucked it behind her.

  She stared down, mesmerized. His thick, gleaming phallus slowly disappeared into her body. He arched over her, his sex-dampened pubic hair grinding against the darker thatch between her spread thighs. He was lodged so deep, rocking, swiveling. His eyes glittered.

  She shut her eyes against their piercing intensity.

  He cupped her head, his hands tightening in her hair. “I want you to see my cock going into you. I want you to remember every detail.”

  She pulled against his hand, swatted his chest. “Let go of my hair. I don’t go for the grunting caveman act. Cut it out.”

  “Oh, yeah,” he muttered. “Scold me while I fuck you. Put me in my place. I love that. Can’t get enough of it.”

  She wound her fingers into the hair on his chest, and yanked it.

  He sucked in a breath. “Fuck.” He pinned her hands to the pillow on either side of her head. “Goddamn, princess. That was dirt mean.”

  She stared into his eyes. “You started it,” she said. “You deserved it. Provoking me on purpose. You arrogant bully.”

  They stared at each other, panting. Afraid of the wild energy, the momentum of desire. Each challenging the other. Unable to back down.

  Liv hooked her ankles around his and pressed against him. Clenching around that solid club of his flesh embedded deep inside her.

  He let go of her hands and gathered her up beneath him, slamming into her body. Her breasts jiggled with each jarring thrust. She strained beneath him, arching, jerking to meet every frenzied lunge with one of her own. It was amazing. It hurt, and she didn’t care. She incited him, demanded more, with teeth and nails and gasping cries.

  At some point they were on their sides, then on Sean’s back with her on top, then he rolled her back beneath him. The position didn’t matter. Nothing could break that wild rhythm, or slow the hard, slapping blows of flesh against flesh. The pink carpet worked its way across the floor beneath their grappling bodies. They clutched each other. A shock wave of pleasure teased, beckoned…and hit.

  She spun, soared through the spangled darkness. Settled slowly, conscious only of shimmering delight that rippled endlessly, spreading from the center of her soul. Extending out into a starry black forever.

  Chapter 9

  Holy fuck.

  Earthquakes jolted from the epicenter of his groin and racked his body. He came, and came, and came. An endless, wrenching explosion.

  Some instinct of self-preservation had prompted him to clap his hand over her mouth. Damn good thing, too. She was a screamer.

  She was still whimpering and moaning, wiggling deliciously. Everything about her was so soft, so lush, so strong.

  That orgasm had detonated from some place so deep, it blew him apart. He should be in a state of bliss. Relaxed, goofy, floating.

  He wasn’t. He felt awful. He was thinking now, and it wasn’t pretty. He’d rather be lost, in the slick pounding magic of mindless fucking. Nothing happening in his head but instinct, impulse.

  Too bad. The thoughts came, like hammer blows. Liv didn’t want him to throw himself at her feet and offer to serve her for all eternity. She didn’t want confessions or justifications or excuses. She wanted a well-hung stud to lick her until she was juicy and hot, and put it to her deep and hard. His dream scenario. White hot, guilt-free sex with no strings. Every man’s secret fantasy, whether he admitted it or not.

  So why did he feel like ten different kinds of shit?

  He pressed his face against her cool, fragrant hair, still damp and deliciously humid. He didn’t dare look her in the face.

  He felt abashed. He’d never been that rough with anyone, not even when begged to be so. It was like his body had been possessed.

  He took a deep breath, raised his head. Her eyes fluttered open, heavy lidded. Unfathomable gray, ringed with indigo, lit with irregular splotches of gold. Curling black lashes. But she wasn’t looking at him.

  She was miles away. Light years. It made him ache.

  He forced himself to lift his weight off, shoving his trembling limbs up so he was on his knees. “Who’d have thought you were a screamer?” He scooped up a handful of her damp hair. It glided through his fingers, cool and slippery as night dark satin.

  She licked those red lips until they gleamed, and dug sharp little claws into his arms, rubbing the soft cushion of her mound against his pubic bone. He angled himself to oblige her, instinctively.

  “Didn’t even hear myself,” she whispered shakily.

  “I hope nobody else did, either,” he said.

  She glanced down at the thick, broad stalk sliding slowly out of her. “But you still didn’t come.”

  “Sure, I did,” he said. “I came with you. Didn’t you feel it?”

  “I thought I did,” she said. “But you’re still—”

  “Hard,” he agreed. “Very. Yeah, you inspire me, beautiful.”

  She wrapped her legs around him. He sucked in a deep breath and fought for control. “If you want me to fuck you again, I need a fresh condom. This one won’t stay on. I must’ve shot a quart of come into it.”

  She shivered with startled laughter. “Oh, dear. Please don’t use euphemisms, Sean. Tell it exactly like it is, by all means.”

  “Oh, I will.” He slid out of her, holding the condom so that the tight cling of her body could not dislodge it. The sight was straight out of his own personal erotic fantasy world. Liv, splayed out on the floor, her soft white thighs spread. The long slit of her pussy was shockingly pink against her dark pubic hair, the puffy, gleaming lips pouting out of it a darker crimson, like some exotic flower. It was making him crazy.

  “So? Shall we go at it again? Do you want more?” he demanded.

  She rolled onto her side, closing her thighs and wrapping her arms around her knees. “I think more might kill me.”

  “Maybe,” he agreed. “But damn, what a way to go.”

  She closed her eyes, shaking with a soft, whispery giggle.

  He stared at her body, hypnotized by every angle. He wanted to draw her, to touch her, to mold her. Hold her. He loved that shadowy cleft. That hot, rich woman s
mell. The sweet taste, the slick texture. The amazing smoothness of her female flesh. His cock pulsed, impatient.

  Keep it together. He slid the condom off, knotted it. “You got someplace I can put this?”

  Liv tugged her robe around herself and shuffled on her knees over to the suitcase, rummaging until she found a plastic pharmacy bag.

  She presented it to him. He dropped it in the bag with a nod of thanks, knotted the bag, dropped it in the wicker trash basket she held out to him. So polite. If you please. Thanks so much. They could be at a barbecue. She might be offering him a place to deposit his paper plate.

  Like they hadn’t been writhing and thrashing around on the floor, fucking desperately only minutes before.

  She stared at his body, and reached out with a timid fingertip to trace the lumps of one of his scars. “Where did you get that?”

  He was perversely irritated by the question. “Uh, that was an unfortunate misunderstanding with an arms dealer in Somalia.”

  She blinked. “My goodness. You’re kidding, right?”

  “Why would I kid? I wouldn’t make up nasty awful stuff like that. I wish to God it hadn’t happened. Hurt like hell. Nicked some internal organs, too. Real gross-out. Took for-fucking-ever to heal up properly.”

  “God, Sean,” she said. “What on earth have you been doing?”

  Something tightened up in his mind as he gazed at her. He imagining cuddling with her, gabbing for hours. Telling stories about his crazy adventures. Fifteen years was a long time to catch up on.

  But her curiosity meant no more than it did from his average fuckbunny bimbo. Where did you get those scars? Girls always asked that, the clear subtext being Ooh, excite me with violent stories about what a dangerous animal you are before you bang me again.

  He didn’t have the stomach for it. “Never mind the scars, OK?”

  She shrank back at his tone. “Excuse me for being curious,” she said coolly. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “I’m not offended. It’s just that gunshot wounds are a big turn-off. Not what I choose to think about when I have a massive hard-on.”