I didn’t let myself be tempted for longer than I could stand it. She’d made it crystal fucking clear, and no way was I going to cross that line again. So I began to pull my hand away.
But she fucking stopped me. She placed her hand over mine. She stared at me. And God knows how much time passed—an eternity, a millisecond. Whatever it was, it was Rosie time. Ordinary time had nothing to do with that moment. It was just her and me, face-to-face in the dark.
“Wait,” she said and pressed a little harder.
A totally primal growl snuck out of me. It was like my animal senses were warning her, Tell me yes now, and you’ll never tell me no again. “Rosie.”
“I was reading our yearbook, from when we graduated.”
Christ. I had to stifle a cringe, not because I was ashamed of what I’d written, but because it was so exactly how I felt, and so exactly the opposite of what she’d made clear. Love you always. “I never look back at those.”
“Really? Never?”
“Never.” But that was bullshit. I looked back at them all the time. I’d rescued them from my fucking sinking house—that’s how important they were to me. That was how much she mattered and always had.
“Max, do you know we were voted Most Likely to Get Married?”
Did I fucking know it? At seventeen, I’d savored that shit, night after night, falling asleep with the goddamned yearbook on my chest like preachers did with bibles.
She slipped her other arm out of the blanket and hooked her finger over my waistband, pulling me closer to her. The heat I felt on the back of my jeans from the fire was nothing, fucking nothing, compared to the heat that was burning for her from inside me. Closer and closer she drew me, finally placing her hand to the back of my neck to bring my face down to hers.
The fire made her eyes sparkle, and I tangled my fingers into her thick curls, soft as down. “I want you so fucking badly.”
Rosie swallowed hard, and she smiled, shy almost. Her eyes narrowed, and a hint of that dirty girl—the girl who’d made a tattoo artist wild enough to ink her for the principle of the thing, the girl whose body was so sexy, it would break down walls—rose up to the surface. “Tell me.”
“I want to take you hard, and I want to make you mine. Tonight and every night.”
“Who says I’m not yours already?” she said, all breathy, as her hand slid around to my ass, and her fingers moved into my pocket. “Who says I wasn’t yours all along and just never knew it?”
“If that’s true, we’ve got a shitload of time to make up for. I don’t want to waste another fucking second talking about it.”
She didn’t answer right away, but she nodded instead. I felt the cool curtain of her hair brush against my cheek. “No more talking.”
Oh. Fuck. I slid my lower lip along hers. I inhaled her breath; I felt her fingertips along the back of my neck. “I’m gonna kiss you.”
“I wish you’d do it already.”
So I did. I kissed her hard, a fierce and intense kiss that forced her head back against the chair. It squeaked under her, the nails groaning as I got on top of her, straddling her on my knees. She tasted sweet, like chocolate, and her tongue felt cooler than mine. Like something frosty on a hot day. I pulled back from the kiss, which made her whine. “When was the last time you fucked outside, Rosie Madden?”
Her eyes twinkled in the firelight. She gripped my wrist and lightly caressed the inside of my forearm with her thumb. “Never.”
“I think we better fix that.” I stood up and took her by the hands, and then I walked her into the grassy clearing, under the magnolia. I laid her down in the cool grass, surrounded by petals. If I’d been a photographer, I’d have photographed her. A painter, I’d have made her stay like that for hours. A poet, I’d never have found the words. But I wasn’t any of those things. I was just a man who wanted a woman, and who’d never felt so happy in his life.
I put my knees on either side of her, the dampness of the grass seeping through my jeans. I pushed her shirt up over her bra. I kissed every fucking inch of her that I could. As my stubble dragged along her stomach, I felt her laugh with the tickle.
“Fuck, I forgot you’re ticklish,” I said.
“Don’t be cruel,” she whispered. “Not right now. Tickle me later.” Her voice was sultry and low. Teasing was over, sass was gone. It was just pure, beautiful desire that I heard there. She’d never sounded more like herself.
But I was calling the shots now, not her. So I played it up. I took her wrists in my hand and bound them tight in my grip as I bent down over her abdomen. With the tip of my tongue, I ran a line down her stomach, around her belly button, along the edge of her panties. With the edge of my tongue, I made a circle around the spot just below her ribs. She hissed and groaned and squirmed. She tried to push me away, but I didn’t let her. I drew one of her nipples out of her bra and brought my lips to it. I closed my eyes and took her in blind—the way her nipple tightened between my teeth, the way her back arched when I bit down. I felt the fine ripples of her ribs under her skin, and as I touched her, goose bumps followed. “You’re so fucking sexy.” I unhooked her bra at the clasp in the front, and the light from the fire sent a golden cast over her creamy white skin.
She came up to sitting, slipped her hands from my grasp and pawed for my belt, but I pushed her back down.
“Let me decide how this goes.”
In answer, she bit her lip. Fuck. “Okay.”
When I had my pants undone, I pulled her panties down, tugging so hard that I heard a thread snap. These were purple, or maybe blue. I couldn’t quite tell in the dark, but whatever they were, they were fucking perfect. Just like her.
In her eyes, I saw the woman I’d always known and loved. But deep down in there, I saw a woman I’d only just met last night and didn’t yet know at all. That woman, the naughty one, the rebel, the bad girl in a sundress, tatted-up American Pie, she was the one who cupped my cock and balls in her hand, licked a long line up the edge of my ear, and answered, “Get inside me, Max. Please.”
I pulled her panties to one side, pushed her back down onto the grass, and parted her thighs. “Wait for it.”
18
Rosie
Max was doing things with his tongue that made the Big Dipper rearrange itself in the sky. He had one hand on my ass, making greedy grabs that made me groan, but with his tongue, he made small, expert circles. Then he licked a long, tantalizing line up from my opening, until his stubble moved across my clit and made me gasp. He pulled his face away from me and looked up my body. “Take these two fingers,” he said, pressing into my thigh with the fingers he meant me to use, “bring them down to your pussy, and part your lips. Don’t argue.”
My breath got caught in my throat. He’d never talked to me like this. And I found I just…loved it. “Okay.”
“Good girl.”
I did exactly as he asked. Exposing my clit to the cool night air made a whole new sensation, amplifying everything. With the tip of his tongue, his eyes on mine all the time, he worked me up and up with concentric circles. Barely taking his mouth off of me, close enough for my skin to be warmed by his breath, he added, “Touch yourself, feel how swollen you are.”
I moved my finger half an inch to the side. My clit was twice its usual size, twice what I was used to when I did this myself. It was full and plump and so sensitive I could hardly stand it. He licked along the edge of my finger, and my clit, too. I pressed down a little, compressing the right edge, and he focused on what I hadn’t yet covered. His eyes slid shut as he sucked and teased and undid me bit by bit.
I parted my fingers again, and I let him take over. The hand that had been on my ass slipped down, and he penetrated me with one finger, and then two.
“Oh my God.” I gripped his shoulders and drove my fingers into his muscles. He laughed a little and teased me with his stubble, sending everything into overdrive all over again.
I was close and getting closer. I was losing track of thought
s and reality. I knew I was gripping him tight, and I knew my toes were curling. But beyond that, things were getting blurry with pleasure. Orion was getting mixed up with Ursa Minor, and I couldn’t see the North Star anywhere. It was all just streaks, like shooting stars, like comets. “You’re heaven. You are.”
He shook into my pussy, and that just made it all so much more intense. “I’m nothing. You’re everything.”
His grip on my thighs tightened, and he parted them farther, spreading me wide so he could get to all of me. The fingers that were inside found my G-spot. He shifted to using the flat, wide, strong part of his tongue, giving me steady, regular pressure. And then it was happening. The comets were shooting down. It was all meteors and asteroids. All I could do was say his name over and over and over again.
Before I was even done coming, while I was still falling and falling, he pulled away just long enough to take his cock in his hand. He didn’t hesitate, he didn’t give it to me slow, he drove into me like I was his and I always had been. I pressed my mouth against his shoulder and made something that sounded like a sob.
“Keep going,” he said as he drove into me harder and harder. “Keep coming. Don’t stop.” The ground was unforgiving—there was no bounce from the mattress like there had been last night. It made me feel his power, and his ruthlessness.
I never wanted it to end. I’d have stayed out there with him all night long. Forever. I wanted to make it last as long as I could. So I ran my fingers lightly through his hair, making him slow down, making his drives less ruthless, making him focus on something other than the magic we were making inside me together. I whispered into his ear, “Let me be on top.”
He growled. “No fucking way.”
I nodded, because I knew how he was. He’d always say no at first. But then, I’d get my way. “Please. Please.”
His eyes were inches from mine, a strange blue from the light of the flames. “I’m not pulling out of you.”
“Definitely not,” I said, and I leaned to the right to show him what I wanted. He let me have it, and we rolled closer to the fire, ending up with me on top, and putting something very important within reach.
19
Max
She eased herself down onto my cock slowly as she opened up for me. “You okay?” I whispered, sweeping her hair off over the shoulder farthest from the sparks and embers. It had died down quite a bit, but no fucking way was I letting anything harm that body. Never, ever, ever.
“Yes, perfect,” she said. She had her hands planted on my chest, side by side over my pecs, and as I hit her cervix, she tightened her grip on me slightly, but then relaxed.
“Your knees okay?” I asked, glancing down, running my hand down her bent leg, slipping my fingers between her calf and the back of her thigh. “Want me to put down a blanket?”
She pursed her lips and shook her head. “Oh, you. Stop worrying. Just let me have a little fun.”
She reached past me, over my head, to a chocolate bar that she’d left on the deck chair. She unwrapped it slowly, her eyes downcast, carefully unfolding the shiny foil wrapper until it was on the paper, flat in her palm. This she put on the warm rocks at the edge of the pit. Every fucking time she moved—every half inch of an adjustment—made me want to roll her right back over and fuck her until she couldn’t take it anymore, until I’d given her everything I had, until I had filled her with my cum, until she was dripping with me. “You’re not making this easy,” I told her, reaching up to pinch her nipples between my thumb and forefinger. My middle finger fell on a depression on the side of her breast, where her bra had been. There was so much I’d never thought about—things like that, how tight her bra was, the angry places where the underwire dug into her. I ran my fingertips over that. “I don’t like this. I don’t like anything that hurts you.”
She laughed. “You got a better idea for all-day support?” she asked. As she did, she maneuvered her feet so that the tops were flat on my thighs, so that she was in a kind of nameless and sexy yoga pose. The Kneeling Queen, The Worshiping Goddess. I ran my hands up her ass, up her back, and then trailed them back down her arms. “I just want you like this. No bras. Maybe no panties. Just you naked forever.”
“Make me a kept woman? Ready for you any time?” she asked as she broke off a piece of the chocolate bar.
“Yeah. Kept. Safe. Mine.”
She answered with just her smile, which said, You beast. Then she turned her attention to the chocolate. She dipped her fingers into the melted rectangle, like a block of finger paint. All five fingers, thumb to pinkie, got dipped like strawberries. When they were all covered, she placed her fingertips to my sternum and then made a long, five-lined streak down my chest. Like war paint, like graffiti. She dipped her finger into the chocolate again and put it into my mouth. I sucked it clean in an instant, greedy for her. Fucking desperate.
I started to find my rhythm inside her from below. I took hold of her ass, which fit like it was fucking made for me to grip. Every drive made her nipples bounce. And then she fucking painted those in chocolate, too.
She took her hair into a ponytail and bent down over me. My cock began to slide from her, but I was big enough to keep my head in all the time. She licked the line that her pinkie had made off of my chest—a long, ballbusting, openmouthed lick with wide eyes, cast up to mine.
“Fuck, Rosie,” I said, freezing where I was, buried deep inside her. She was soaked from her orgasm, and I could feel her wetness coming down onto my balls. I drove my first two fingers between our bodies until I touched the lips of her pussy. I got my own finger paint from her, and I added it to my chest—a fine, shiny streak next to the chocolate.
She placed her tongue to my chest, and in one fucking mind-blowing sweep, licked up herself and a streak of chocolate. Fucking A. I just couldn’t take it anymore, going so slow. I took her by the shoulders and straightened her up. The shift in position made my balls tighten, and I took her nipple in my mouth.
“Greedy.”
I didn’t take my mouth off her as I nodded. Because fuck yeah, I was greedy. Greedy for every single thing she was.
When I’d licked her clean, I pushed her up to sitting. She took all of me, and I could see a little flicker of pain in her face. Made me fucking crazy to know I was in her so deep that it hurt. “Listen,” I told her, running my thumb over her cheek. She pressed it into my palm and put a kiss to my fingers. “If you let me come inside you again, we’re doing this thing for real. One time is one time. But twice, that’s for keeps.”
Her body stiffened slightly, and I liked that, too. I liked feeling that she understood I was dead fucking serious. That she was my best friend, and those were the goddamned stakes.
“What does that mean?” she asked softly. She put one of her fingertips in her mouth and used that wetness to clean some more chocolate from my chest.
“It means I’m not just fucking you to fuck you,” I told her, increasing the intensity—but not the speed—of my thrusts. I felt her cervix at the end of my cock with every drive. “It means that nothing will ever be the same for us.”
“I can’t lose you,” she said, almost through a gasp.
“You won’t.”
“Promise?”
Ten thousand words wouldn’t have done justice to how strongly I felt, so I didn’t say a single one. Instead, I flipped her back over away from the fire and bore down on her hard, until my balls slapped against her ass. When I had her panting, I slowed down and pinned her neck back with the Y of my thumb and fingers. I nudged her cheek with my nose. “Means I’m serious. It means you’re mine.”
“I am. I’m yours.”
The fire crackled, and somewhere out in the woods an owl shrieked. She looked up at the stars and smiled, and then pulled me close to her. My natural instinct took over, and I began those possessive, ceaseless drives that had busted the wall. All I could think was, this is how it was always supposed to be. Her pussy tightened around me, and I felt the first wave of prec
um spill into her. I inhaled that pure, sweet smell that was hers, and hers alone. I caged her in and fucked her like I loved her. Because I did. And always would.
As I growled with the first wave of my orgasm, as I roared out her name, she placed her lips to my ear and whispered, “For keeps, Max. For keeps.”
For fucking keeps.
We lay in the grass under the stars for a long time, until the fire died down and I felt Rosie shiver in my arms. “Bed?”
She got up on her elbows. Her eyes looked sleepy, and her hair was messy. I pulled a blade of grass from her bangs and let it fall from my fingers onto my chest. She batted her lashes, like it was hard to keep her eyes open. “Yes, definitely.”
“I’m not sleeping in the guest bedroom, tiger,” I said and tugged on her lip with the pad of my thumb.
Her laugh came with a fucking awesome nostril flare. “Definitely not.”
I got up first and then helped her up to standing. I wrapped her in the quilt, put on my boxers, and then made sure the fire was out before taking her hand. It was like I just couldn’t get near enough to her, though, and I put my arm around her as we headed inside.
When we opened the door, we found Cupcake sleeping peacefully on her side in her crate, her little tummy rising and falling with quiet snores. Rosie pressed her finger to her lips to tell me to be quiet, and as noiselessly as I could, I closed the front door, lifting up on the knob to stop the hinges from squeaking like they usually did.
Rosie kept her blanket wrapped tight around her and tiptoed over to Cupcake. Her eyebrows furrowed and she frown-smiled—mashing up her features in the cutest possible way. She’s so cute, Rosie mouthed. Gently, she touched Cupcake’s foot with her fingertip, reaching through the metal door like I had at the vet’s. Cupcake didn’t wake up, but instead, she gave an almighty Wonder Woman stretch, paws out in both directions like she was flying through the air, accompanied by a grumbling groan. She made some adjustments of her little mouth and then snuggled her face back into the blanket and started snoring a little more loudly. I made my way over to the crate too, and as Rosie came back up to standing, she nestled her cheek against my chest. And I pressed my lips to the top of her head.
So Good (An Alpha Dogs Novel) Page 12