by K. L. Kreig
“I want this,” she pants brokenly as I simultaneously drag my teeth down over her collarbone and run a finger between her cheeks until I’m dipping into her wetness.
“Fuck, yes,” I groan at how ready she already is for me. Nothing is more ego boosting than knowing you can make a woman drip with want. “I am going to own you tonight, Willow. Every fucking creamy inch of you is mine to do with as I please.”
She doesn’t answer, but it’s probably because I’ve now dragged a copious amount of moisture to her back hole. I rim the puckered flesh and push in slightly, testing how far she’s willing to go.
She doesn’t fight it.
She sinks into it.
Damn, can this woman be more perfect?
“Oh yes, sweetheart,” I whisper roughly against her lips. “We will get to that, but tonight I’m claiming the sweet pussy I’ve been jacking off to for weeks now.”
“Shaw, please.” Sweet desperation already threads her plea. So fucking hot.
“Please, what?” I taunt, sinking my finger into her asshole farther before slowly withdrawing and doing it again. Her body is opening, already undulating in my arms, reaching for more.
“It’s not enough.”
“I’ll give you more than enough, Willow. Trust me on that.”
Crashing my mouth to hers, I fuck her with my tongue the way I’m now doing with my finger until I need to catch my breath. I wanted to take her to my bedroom and worship her all night in the softness of my sheets, but by the way she’s already clenching around me I’ll never make it.
Breaking apart, I force myself to take a step back. She looks dazed like she thinks I’ve stopped. Only I’m just getting started. Calling on my control, I growl, “If you like those panties, you have five seconds to lose them or they’ll end up in the garbage, shredded.”
Her gaze darts around the kitchen. “Here?”
“Four.”
“Take your clothes off, too.”
Her demand is cute.
“Three,” I announce sharply when she doesn’t move.
Her witchy cobalt eyes turn defiant, wasting several more seconds of her precious time. Just when I’m reaching to rip the flimsy fabric from her hips, she dips her thumbs into the elastic and drags them slowly down her legs, taunting me.
“Jesus, Willow.” My breaths come hard and fast when my eyes land on the juices shining on the insides of her thighs. I’ve barely touched her yet, and she’s already gushing. For me. My cock is granite fucking hard, and the need to release myself from the sting of my zipper is overpowering. “Spread your legs.”
In a carefully thought out move, she takes one of her feet and slides it over a few inches, smug satisfaction written all over her face. “Just so you know, I’m only following your bossy instructions because I want to.”
Blatant lie.
The flush on her skin. The rapid movement of her chest. Her dilated pupils. All a dead giveaway that my authority is secretly what she thirsts for.
“You’re not following them very well,” I pipe back, chuckling lightly.
Though deep inside she wants this, if I expected Willow to be completely pliable in the bedroom I should have known better. The fire banked inside this extraordinary hellcat burns white-hot, engulfing me entirely. Little does she know my need to make her wholly submit turns me absolutely primitive. Her defiance ignites me like nothing else I’ve known.
Smirking, I step into her body, wrap an arm around her waist, and kick her foot over a few more inches. I finger a peaked nipple. She sucks in a sharp breath when I pinch and twist, and her lids slam closed as if I just flipped a switch.
“Your body defies your mouth, Goldilocks,” I tell her lowly, dragging my tongue along her jaw. “I think you need to cede control as much as I need to take it from you.”
“You’re wr—”
I shut off her lies with a searing kiss until every muscle of hers weakens. It’s too much to hope her stubborn spirit will follow, but I plan to make each second of her fight worth the surrender she’ll give me. “The only thing I want to hear from that smart mouth right now is ‘more, Shaw’ or ‘don’t ever fucking stop, Shaw.’ Understand?”
Glazed-over blues blink in slow motion.
I’ll take that as a yes.
Releasing her tortured nipple, I let my hand skim down her sexy-as-fuck body until I reach the golden treasure I’ve been dying to sink my cock into. We’re done playing games, and when I thrust two fingers into the tightest, silkiest, wettest pussy I can remember feeling in years, Willow’s gasp is a song.
I set a quick pace, mercilessly pumping my fingers through her drenched desire, needing to watch her fall apart in my arms. I wanted to tease, but now I just want to take.
“Shaw, God,” she moans. Her hips roll, fucking my fingers the way she needs in order to get off. I love a woman who is unrestrained, taking what she needs, taking what I give her.
“Do you need something, beautiful?”
Yes is but a breath.
“Tell me what you need.” Swooping down, I draw one of her rosy peaks into my mouth. Her candied taste is addictive, unlike anything I’ve had before. I could suck her tits for hours.
“I…need…ahhhh…” She trails off when my thumb circles her hard little clit, each pass getting firmer, taking her closer. “Please. God. Yes. More.” Her one-syllable words are broken and almost inaudible.
When her walls clench around my slick digits, signaling she’s getting close, my heart kicks into high gear. I should withdraw my fingers and taste her whimpers of protest, but I’ve never anticipated a woman’s orgasm more than Willow’s. I’ve never wanted to savor the look of utter euphoria as much before, knowing that I put it there.
Needing to soak in the way her entire body reacts to me, I lean back but keep her liquid form steady in my arms. Her eyes are pinched tight and her mouth is open, but I’m only fascinated with the place where our bodies are currently joined.
I watch my wet fingers disappear between her pink folds over and over, working her closer to that place of pure bliss I want her lost in. Her moans escalate, the pace of her hips increases, and her nails dig through the fabric still covering my shoulders.
Her body hums for me. She’s immersed herself completely in the moment, and she is magnificent.
“That’s it, beautiful. Fuck my fingers just like that.”
She mumbles incoherently until her last scream is crystal clear. “Oh God, Shaw. I’m coming.”
Fucking hell. When she cries my name as she rides out the wave of ecstasy rolling through her I set in motion, I feel the power of it encase the organ beating wildly in my chest. That connection we shared earlier outside before dinner strengthens. I haven’t been inside her yet and already I feel more tied to her than any other woman.
I should be worried about what that means, but I’m not.
All I’m worried about right now is how many times I can make her cry it again before we both pass out in utter satiation.
22
I’m high.
Weightless.
Floating on a cloud constructed of passion while pure rapture fires through my blood.
The place I’ve reached is a paradise of indulgent intoxication. Nothing but decadent pleasure dwells here. My visit is brief but unequaled.
Every cell in my body begs me to stay, but suddenly I’m falling, the glorious feeling dimming too fast. Something soft envelops me completely, and I fight coming fully back into reality.
“Willow, you with me, beautiful?”
Shaw.
God. Shaw.
The hoarse need in his voice causes a fresh surge of desire to roll through me. When my eyes flutter open, I dimly note I’m lying on the plush white carpet in the living room, but I don’t let myself think beyond that.
I can’t take my eyes from the flawless masculine specimen standing above me.
Watching me with hooded eyes.
Wanting me.
Naked.
Stroking his weeping cock. It’s as impressive as I thought it felt.
I am in absolute awe.
And a lot of nervous.
Sweeping my eyes up his nakedness, I follow the narrow goodie trail that leads from his dick up to his belly button before it thins out. His abs are cut, his chest is buff and smooth, his arms are thick and corded. He looks like airbrushed, absurd perfection except for the two overlapping puzzle pieces carved into the side of his torso.
“Want me to do that again?”
I’m met with a cocky smirk when I finally rip my eyes away from his tat to meet his gaze. Normally I would fight back at a comment like that, but all the fight left me. I want everything he promised me. And then some.
“Yes.”
Stretching my arms above my head, I cross my wrists and ankles and smile when he hisses.
“Fuck. Stay exactly like that, Willow.”
The way my body reacts to his authoritarian commands is alarming.
Don’t think. Just feel.
With one hand still caressing himself, Shaw brings a foil packet I didn’t see in the other to his mouth and tears it open with his teeth. His gaze never parts from mine as he rolls the condom on with practiced moves. I try not to think of how many times he’s done this before if he doesn’t even need a brief glance.
Kneeling down at my feet, he skims over me from my ankles to my core, letting his thumbs dip between my closed center. My breath hitches and my eyes fall shut when he pries my thighs apart.
“Open your eyes, beautiful,” he cajoles.
I’m powerless to deny him.
Strong hands roam all over me as he talks, or should I say orders. “This time I want your eyes on me the whole time I’m making you break apart.”
I bring my hands down to touch him, but he presses his warm, naked body to mine and puts them back, wrapping my fingers around the leg of the leather chair I sat in last time I was here. “Stay like this.”
His hardness digs into the top of my pubic bone, and there’s no way I can stop my body from writhing, trying to get him where I throb. One palm slips underneath my ass, tilting my hips. I think he’ll stop me, but he starts moving in time with me. Each roll hits against my clit, and I think I may come again just by this.
“I want to touch you,” I whine.
“Willow,” he groans in my ear. “If you touch any part of me right now, I’m gonna fucking lose it. Next round. Promise.”
“Next round?”
“Oh, yes.” He smiles widely. I’m falling so damn hard. “I told you I was fucking you until I physically couldn’t anymore. I always keep my promises.”
My grin matches his. “You should stop wasting time, then. You’re not getting any younger.”
His carefree look darkens with one that’s nothing short of predatory. It sends shivers down my spine and only heightens my anticipation to be wholly consumed by this magnificent man.
“Oh, my sweet, innocent little Goldilocks. Taunting Papa Bear results in a very ferocious bite.”
I’m baiting. He’s biting.
Good.
This won’t be tender, but that’s not what I want. I want rough, hard, dirty. I want him to fuck me so fast it borders on pain.
I need it that way, especially from him, to remember what this is and what this isn’t.
“I don’t mind the sting,” I deadpan.
His eyes alight with the dare, I see the second he accepts. On a throaty rumble, he shifts his hips, aligning his cock with my core. I wrap my legs around his waist to help since my hands are tied with my invisible promise.
I’m so ready, even with my vagina’s hiatus lately, that it only takes two firm thrusts before he’s fully seated himself inside. We both groan at our intimate connection, and Shaw stills as my pussy stretches to accommodate his size. I feel the pulse of his cock with each heartbeat.
“Move,” I beg. “Please.”
He does, and after only a couple more drives, the burn quickly fades to the most intense pleasure I can remember. I feel like I was made for this man.
“Willow, Christ you feel good.” His tone is guttural and reverent. Both sweet and harsh. When he groans “too good” as his lids shut momentarily, I’m lost to the pure ecstasy I see in him that simply cannot be faked.
That’s it.
I give.
I’m his.
My body succumbs to him in every way as he braces himself on his forearms, digs his hands in my hair, connects his smoky orbs with mine, and fucks me like a man possessed. Flames lick my insides in the most delicious of ways with every rough withdrawal and violent plunge back in.
He silently demands my surrender.
I soundlessly submit.
He fucks me breathless, boneless, thoughtless.
“Come for me, Willow.” His hissed command borders on frantic.
My issue during sex has always been my inability to ask for what I need. That’s my issue in most parts of my life, actually. With Shaw, though, I feel safe to be me. To ask for what I need.
“Harder. I need harder.”
Nostrils flared in surprise, he rises on his haunches, grabs under my knees and tilts my pelvis high, impaling me until he hits the sweet spot that makes me cry out.
“You like that?”
“Yes,” I pant. God, yes. My walls tighten in small pulses as I hurtle toward the abyss. “Don’t stop.”
“I’m never fucking stopping, Willow. Never.”
I don’t want to fall. I want to balance here on this exquisite precipice forever, but seconds later as I tread in Shaw’s bottomless depths, I feel an unstoppable current tugging me under, and I begin to sink. I helplessly fracture and drift to the murky bottom this time, shuddering as the heaviness pulls me further and further down into oblivion.
My mind blanks and I just feel.
Pleasure.
Freedom.
Peace.
All too quickly I’m wrenched back to the surface by Shaw’s harsh growl. His hips piston so fast, my head now bangs against the chair leg I’d long ago released. His muscles stiffen, his fingers bruise, and his jaw locks as he follows, pumping furiously through his own release. The only time he lets go of my gaze is when he blankets my body and covers my mouth with his, kissing me sweetly. The contrast to the way we just fucked like animals and the way his mouth moves subtly against mine is startling.
“Fucking hell.” His hoarse curse mists goose pebbles over my cooling, sweaty skin.
“Yeah,” I croak, working to fill my lungs with enough air. Tracing my fingertips down the muscular lines of his back, I smile when he doesn’t grumble. I press my palms fully to his heated skin on the ascent back up, reveling in the feel of each line and dip. I’m spent, but I want more of this. Of him.
“I need to catch my breath, beautiful, but then I’m going to eat you before I fuck you bent over this chair.”
God almighty, this man has a filthy mouth. And a great imagination.
I arch my neck, exposing my throat to the tongue that’s now licking its way up to my ear.
“You’re assuming I want that, Drive By.”
He never fully deflated, and at that tease, he’s already hardening. When he shifts enough to thrust to the end of my womb, I can’t hold in my moan. “Oh God,” I purr, my hips lifting of their own volition to meet his.
“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” is his smug reply.
I nearly whimper at the emptiness not only my body but my soul feels when he withdraws, holding the base of the condom so no swimmers leak out. “Be right back, baby,” he husks with a brush of his lips to mine.
Before I can get too far into my own head, he’s returned with a strip of condoms and a wet cloth, which he hands to me. Flashing me a heartfelt smile, he grabs two throw pillows and a light blanket from the couch and tosses them on the plush carpet beside me before picking up a remote. The fireplace starts with a whoosh when he pushes a few buttons.
Fifteen seconds later, my head is in the crook of his sh
oulder and he’s draped me over him. He covers us; the flames, the wool, and his body heat taking away the chill I now feel.
“You good?” His fingers feather my arm, and I try not to think of how fantastic this is. I didn’t take Shaw Mercer for cuddling and pillow talk. I expected to be ushered to the door. Politely, of course.
I nod, the blaze hypnotizing me. “Yes.”
“Tired?”
“A little,” I admit. “Staring at a roaring fire always lulls me to sleep.”
Tugging me tighter, he asks, “And good sex, right?”
“Fishing, Drive By?”
I love his laugh. “Hey, even us sex gods need the occasional validation.”
“Sex god?” I tip my head and catch his eyes. When I do, my sarcastic retort dies a quick death. They’re soft and flirty at the same time. Shit. So bad. “Okay, I’ll throw you a bone.”
“So, I was good, then?”
I giggle, loving that there’s no awkwardness between us. “You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”
“Damn straight, Goldilocks.”
Pushing up on my elbow, I lean in close and sober my smile. Running my gaze over his face, I memorize each thin line in his smooth skin, the position of every microscopic fleck of amber in his blue eyes and the sharpness of his high cheekbones. That way I can recall every feature in a few months’ time when he’s gone. “Better than.”
“Life altering, perhaps?” he quips with his sexy signature look, a lopsided smirk and a cocked brow.
Yes, dammit.
“Now who’s twisting words?” I reply, a little uneasy.
Life halts. We’re wrapped in a bubble, just the two of us. He sees me clearly. Knows I’m lying, even. It’s unsettling. The blinds I hide behind are suddenly completely translucent, yet he’s gracious enough to give me a pass.
“So.” His voice cracks, and he clears his throat. “Did you have a fireplace growing up, or were you a pyromaniac?”
The magnetic pull I always find in his gaze breaks. I’m not sure if I’m grateful or disappointed. My head finds his shoulder again. “Well, after my pyro phase, I stuck to building fires in the fireplace.” My father taught me that, I don’t add. He taught me so many things. Now there are so many lessons he’ll never get to pass on.