The Lawson Boys: Marty

by Angela Verdenius

  “You think I don’t want you?” He shoved hard against her, satisfaction filling him as she gasped at the feel of his hard shaft against her soft belly. “You just broke a rule between us.”

  “A rule?” Her eyes were bright even if they were a little alarmed.

  “You are never to think I don’t want you.” Using his body, he crowded her across the room until she was caught between the lounge room wall and his body. Leaning into her, he captured her hands and easily pulled them above her head, holding both wrists in one big hand against the wall.

  Her eyes almost went round in astonishment, but there was no denying the flicker of desire within the bright depths. Oh yeah, he just knew it. His little Belle didn’t mind a bit of force. A bit of mastery.

  God, yes. He couldn’t wait. His dominant side was straining at the hold he had on it. The hold he’d never allowed to slip with any other woman. That he’d never, in fact, ever felt even a teensy bit of urge to let slip. Until now. He sure as hell was going to let it slip with this gorgeous woman that was all his.

  “You like me to be in control?” His smile was all teeth, the carnal desire he felt for her seeping into his eyes. Immediately he was rewarded by her sudden quick intake of breath, which just made that magnificent bosom press against his chest and produce little molten sparks that skittered along his skin. “You got it, baby, because you know what?”

  Mutely she shook her head, her plump lips slightly parted in anticipation.

  “I like being in control. I like my sex hard, hot, and downright sweaty.”

  “Oh.” Her breath started coming faster.

  “Honey, you’re going to be saying a whole lot more than just ‘oh’.” He regarded her intently. “There’s only two things you need to know.”

  She blinked.

  He lowered his head until his lips were against her ear. “One: I’d never hurt you.”

  She almost melted into him.

  “Two: you tell me to stop if I take it too fast for you.”

  “Stop?” She was definitely breathless.

  “You tell me.” His breath caressed her ear hotly, and reaching out, he nipped the little earlobe before finishing on a low, almost primal growl, “If it’s too hard, too fast, too much, you tell me stop and I’ll stop. Okay?”

  “You wouldn’t leave?” There was a panicked tremor in her voice.

  “No, baby. But I’ll slow down.”

  “You promise you won’t leave me?”

  “I won’t leave you.” He pressed a small kiss to the sensitive underside of her ear. “I’ll be here. I’ll always be here.”

  She took a deep breath. “Okay.”

  It was a good thing she couldn’t see his smile because she’d probably regret her decision. He was determined she’d never forget this time with him. He was going to brand her.

  “Oh Belle,” he promised. “I’m going to spoil you for any other man.”

  Then before she could say or do anything more, he unleashed the dominant side of him, that primal male instinct to own and conquer, to take the woman he’d chosen to be his life partner. Forever. To do what he’d never desired to do in the past but that at this moment was overwhelming him.

  He took her and he made her his.

  Mouth moulding to hers, he kissed her, refusing to let her move away from him, his free hand capturing her chin and angling her head to allow better access to her mouth.

  He ate at her mouth, took her essence and plundered the tender depths, glorying in her flavour, her scent, drinking from her.

  As he kissed her, his hand drifted lower from her chin, down her throat and lower still, hooking into the low neckline of her dress and stripping it from her shoulders. Releasing his hold on her wrists, he brought her arms down so that that bodice fell to pool around her waist. A quick yank and the elastic slid over her hips and downwards until the dress lay in a swirl of silky material at her feet.

  He didn’t give her time to think, to react to the coolness of the room against her skin reminding her of her insecurities. Reaching up, he tore the front of his own shirt open and shrugged out of it, managing to keep her mouth captured with his the whole time, refusing to let her come up for air.

  It was a strategy that worked, because by the time he did allow her to suck in a deep breath he’d unhooked her bra and was down on his knees, taking her breath away again by the simple act of sucking one pink nipple into his mouth and making the little bud come to torturous attention by the skilful administrations of his mouth and tongue.

  Her hands caught his shoulders as she clung to him, maintaining her balance even as her ecstatic moans filled the air. Those moans were music to his carnal soul.

  Still sucking on her nipple, he hooked his fingers in her panties and slid them down her thighs, lower to her knees until they dropped around her ankles. Without hesitation he slid his hands up the insides of her legs, urging her with a strong shove to spread her thighs, and then he cupped her sex, the heel of his hand massaging the mound while his fingers slid between the moist curls and further in, slipping between the sheltering labia to find the treasure beyond with deadly accuracy.

  The little nub peaked under his touch and he played her like the beautiful woman she was, shifting his mouth to suck in the other sweet little nipple that beckoned from the corner of his eye while he stroked her clitoris.

  His shaft was a painful bulge in the front of his pants, but he didn’t release it from the confines of the material, using it as a reminder that he wasn’t finished, that he wasn’t ready to take Belle, not yet. He’d only had a small taste of her so far and he was going to have more.

  So much more.

  It wasn’t long and he had her on the brink of an orgasm, felt her shudder beneath his touch, and when he slipped his finger into the moist opening of her body, her sheath clamped down on his finger while her thighs strained to close on his invading hand. With several quick, practised moves, he pushed her past her limit, surging upwards quickly to catch her as her knees weakened and she fell forward against him, holding her as she shivered in his arms, loving the blush of sexual heat on her cheeks, her eyes unfocussed as she was lost to the passion that crashed over her.

  When she came trembling back to consciousness in his arms, he didn’t let her come all the way back, using his body to crowd her back towards the sofa.

  “Turn around, honey,” he ordered huskily.

  Still caught up in delicious euphoria, she obeyed without hesitation. Knowing that she’d have baulked at his next intention for her, knowing just as much that if he could get her past her self-consciousness that she’d enjoy it, he controlled her while she was pliable to his terms.

  Bringing her to her knees near the coffee table, he knelt behind her, taking her hands and stretching her arms across the smooth wood, hearing her gasp as her bare breasts pressed against the cool top. He hooked her fingers over the other side of the coffee table.

  “Marty…” Her whisper was a combination of uncertainty and lingering desire.

  Pressing a kiss to her warm cheek, he huskily reassured her. “It’s all right, Belle.” Keeping her aroused, he slid his hand smoothly between her thighs and entered her deeply with one finger, feeling her muscles still trembling in the aftermath of the orgasm. It didn’t take much to divert her attention from her naked, open, decadent position, which was just what he wanted.

  Trailing kisses over her shoulder and down her spine, he felt her arch beneath him. Still lower he went, licking lightly over the dimple at the base of her spine, leaning down to lick lower still over the curve of one buttock, nipping his way to the other one before he straightened and reached around her, his hands on her knees urging them apart.

  So caught up in the sensations he was stirring inside her, Belle obeyed without a murmur of protest.

  Lust beating through him, thirsting for her, Marty slid down to his stomach and licked the crease where her buttocks met her thighs, causing her to shiver, and he felt the tension in her legs as he ran
his fingers down the backs of the rounded limbs.

  She was open to him, he could almost see everything, almost touch everything, almost taste everything.

  Almost wasn’t everything, however, and he wanted everything.

  Flipping over onto his back, he reached between her legs to grasp the coffee table and neatly pulled himself between her spread thighs.

  Oh yeah, that was so much better. So much bloody better. His mouth practically watered as he looked up at her secrets, those mysterious, womanly secrets that were bared to his view by her splayed thighs, made even more splayed by his wide shoulders forcing them further apart.

  “Marty, I can’t…” A cross between disbelief and raw lust, her voice wavered. “I can’t…”

  “You can,” he said firmly. “You will. Hold on to the coffee table, baby. Hold on to the other side. Lean over and just hold on.”

  Before she could say anything further, before she could make a protest clouded by modesty, he grabbed her hips and tugged her lower, her grasp on the table and her splayed thighs preventing her from coming flush down on his face, but her position and his grip holding her at just precisely the perfect spot for his enjoyment, her pleasure…and his feasting.

  The intimate, sensitive flesh was all his for the taking, and Marty took it. His tongue swiped along the seam of her body and she could only gasp and squirm, held prisoner by his hands and her position, her helplessness and her own carnal lust.

  She felt lust, he knew it, had the proof in not only her sexy little whimpers filling the air but also on the glistening moistness of her flesh before him, and he tasted her cream, licking deep, playing the tip of his tongue around the opening of her body, slipping in just a little, tasting her, spreading the proof of her desire around the silken flesh of the labia.

  The little clitoris was no longer sheltered, its hidden location revealed by the way he’d skilfully positioned Belle. Taking advantage of it, he sucked the little nub into his mouth, probing it with his tongue.

  Belle whimpered, her thighs each side of his head tensing, her hands scrabbling on the table top.

  Chuckling, he blew on her heated flesh, hearing her little scream of frustration and shock. “Hold on, baby.” When she only squirmed more, he lightly slapped her derriere.

  “Oh God, Marty-” Her words broke off on a gasp as he slid one finger neatly inside her, hooking the tip and dragging slowly down her sheath. “Oh God!”

  Twice more and she came, his hands on her hips holding her ruthlessly in place as he swallowed the cream from her body, tasting the desire, and it was like a torch to his already inflamed desires.

  No sooner had her orgasm rolled away than he was sliding from between her thighs, releasing her and coming to his feet, kicking his shoes off and yanking the snap of his pants open, ripping the zipper down as he watched her sink back onto her heels, her back against his shins.

  “Oh, we’re not done yet, baby,” he purred with craven heat rolling through his voice.

  Tipping her head back to look up at him, her cheeks rosy with sexual arousal and eyes bright with desire, her lips parted as she fought to bring her uneven breaths under control.

  Bending down, Marty kissed her ruthlessly, his appetite for her voracious. Straightening, he stepped around her, bracing his feet either side of her thighs. Having her kneeling at his feet, her lush curves so mouth-watering, her innocent face alight with the cupiscence he’d awoken within her, was erotic.

  So bloody erotic.

  Just the image of her mouth around his shaft was enough to make it throb painfully, urgently, and he stepped back enough to shove his pants down and kick them away, straightening again to look down at her.

  She’d shifted, one leg bent with her foot beneath her, the other knee bent with her heel tucked as close against her bottom as she could, her arms across her breasts, the very image of shyness and passion combined.

  “Oh no, Belle.” Marty dropped to his knees before her, ensnaring her gaze. “No hiding, remember? Rule number two.”

  The black of her dilated pupils almost overwhelmed the green of her irises, but it wasn’t caused by fear.

  Reaching out, she laid her palm against his chest. “So beautiful.” Her fingers slid down, seeking the small steel bar piercing his nipple and rubbing against it, sending erotic, almost painful sensations skittering through him. “So handsome.”

  Welcoming her touch, her smooth palms against the swells of his hard muscles, Marty let her explore, watching her through lowered lashes as every touch ignited sparks already simmering, every trail of her fingers flaring a pathway that jerked on his shaft.

  Tracing over his abdomen, her fingers followed the rise and fall of the muscle beneath his skin, lower still until her fingertips hovered above the aching head of his shaft.

  Not moving, he waited, watching her with hot, hungry eyes, waiting for her to do more, to explore further.

  Nervously she moistened her lips, the heavy lashes hiding her eyes from sight, the thick, brown curls tumbling around her shoulders, the heavy breasts that begged for his touch, the nipples swollen and rosy from his mouth.

  He waited, refusing to ask, refusing to move, up on his knees before her, allowing her to look at him, to discover what he wouldn’t hide from her, was proud for her to see, just as he was proud of her body with all its womanly softness.

  Her hand reached, hovered, and his breath hissed out as finally she touched the heavy head of his shaft with tentative fingers. Rigidly he held himself up when everything inside him demanded he throw her to the floor and ride her roughly. He’d tasted her, explored her, and it was only fair he allowed Belle to do the same.

  Good intentions.

  But it didn’t hold.

  A gentle fingertip brushed over the head of his shaft, played with the slit in the top, smoothed through the trickle of moistness already welling up. The undoing was when her small hand curled around his shaft, fingers measuring the thickness, and then she slid her hand down.

  Good intentions blew apart as pure, craven heat surged through him like a bushfire. In a flash he was on her, pushing her back onto the carpet, his hand palming her head so she didn’t hit it as she dropped down.

  Her mouth opened on a gasp and he was there, tongue surging deep, claiming the sweet depths. Her thighs were spread either side of his hard, muscled ones, his shaft pressed against the seam of her body, dragging over her perineum, lodging at the entrance, but he couldn’t wait, couldn’t ease in, not when the basest of urges - to rut, to ride, to claim - was upon him.

  One hard thrust and he was buried deep, his hands hooking beneath her knees to bend them, allowing him to slide still deeper. With primal satisfaction he watched the widening of her eyes. He swallowed her gasp of pleasured shock.

  In passionate response her nails raked across his back, from the top of his spine to the curve of his buttocks.

  That primitive action combined with her darkening eyes and the arching of her body into him unleashed any restraint he might have held onto, and withdrawing, he slammed back inside her.

  As hard as he rode her, she met him, her hips pushing up as he surged forward, her heels digging into his thighs seeking to hold him close, to pull him closer.

  Glorying in it, he let his lust run free, pounding into her with every bit of ravenous heat that splintered through his body in a furious inferno.

  That was what he felt like, a fiery inferno. Fire burned through him, from the pit of his stomach flaring out to encompass his sac, pouring a blazing path through his shaft, flaring upward. Abdominal muscles clenched as the fire blazed through him, sweat sheened his chest, the heavy muscles there rubbing against the generous breasts pressed against him, and his biceps and triceps clenched, flexed, as he took his weight and drove that fiery ball of pure, glorious heat higher with every hard thrust of his hips, every deep plunge through the heated, tight depths of Belle’s sheath, every slide of his skin against hers.

  Her body beneath his, his body above hers, their
bodies entwined, felt so right, so just, and he never wanted it to end, never wanted them to separate, wanted to keep their essences and scent combined.

  But carnal heat burned out of control, his ardour for her overwhelming him, stripping him of any internal control that might have lingered, and it took him over.

  Marty plundered Belle’s body, caught her mouth, kissed her deep, bit her lip hard enough to make her whimper but not hard enough to make her pull away. Instead, when he released her mouth, she followed him in a blatant need for more and he gladly gave it, taking her mouth once more, taking control of the kiss.

  But the control was like his body, a man’s control of his woman but not of his own ardour. He kissed her as ruthlessly as he took her body, worshipping her in a way that was wholly primal. Giving her pleasure, taking pleasure, marking her as his.

  Hips thrusting harder, his shaft surged deeper, cleaving through her sheath that sought to grip and hold him. The burning in his sac flowed over, fiery trickles in his shaft that grew thicker, faster, hotter, and then he was there, seed pouring forth, covering her sheath, laying claim to her body.

  He shattered, hips pistoning, head thrown back and eyes shut tight, teeth clenched as the orgasm to end all orgasms rolled over him like a wave crashing to shore, curling up under him and throwing him out.

  The last thing he heard was Belle screaming his name, and then he fell apart.

  When he finally opened his eyes with reluctance, he was so comfortable that he didn’t want to move. Cuddled up to him, Belle was a soft, warm bundle he didn’t want to let go. The minutes ticked past and he was quite content to lie there with her in his arms, but then his mobile started to ring.

  “Ignore it,” he said when she turned her head towards the noise. “It’ll go to voice mail.”

  Unfortunately it was enough to make her aware of what had happened between them, causing her to stiffen selfconcsiouly in his arms. Immediately he tightened his hold around her shoulders. “Don’t.”

  “Marty…I just…I need…” Her voice was muffled against his chest, and didn’t the warm puffs of breath just set his libido tingling again?