Booted (Trails of Sin 3)

“Beg.” He stops and touches his lips to my inner thigh.

My breaths come so hard and heavy all I manage is a moan.

In a blink, he’s on me again, fucking me with his mouth, his fingers, just long enough to short circuit my brain before pulling back.

“I’m waiting, Raina.”

“Fuck you and your evil mouth.” I grip his hair and pull.

“Not until you beg.”

I release a scream of frustration that ripples into a breathy cry. “Please, Lorne. Please fuck me with your tongue and your fingers and your hard, fat cock. Give it to me. Make me burn. Please, let me come.”

His huge grin pops that dimple, and I’m owned, completely and utterly.

“Come on my face, you dirty girl.” He crashes his lips against my pussy.

The orgasm slams into me a glorious wet rush, my legs sawing around his head, and my brain shimmering with sparks.

He licks me through it, coaxing my inner walls to clench and clench and clench until the tingles ebb into sweet, swishing bliss.

“You’re fucking gorgeous.” He leans up with his lips stretched back in a wolfish smile, panting past clenched teeth.

“So are you.” My heart sighs with post-orgasmic affection.

Gripping my waist, he yanks me off the ledge and into the water. Desire coats his mouth, and serrated breaths expose the edge of his control.

“Hold onto me.” His voice is crushed rock and carnality.

I loop my arms around his neck and angle my body over his hungry cock.

With a hand on the ledge behind me, his other grips the base of his length. His eyes flick to mine. His jaw clamps, and he slowly enters my body, sinking, stretching, possessing, inch by consuming inch.

Pleasure swarms my blood, and every cell in my body sings for more, more, more.

He stops breathing, his chest hard as steel as he presses deeper, mouth open and shoulders tight.

I grab hold of his face and watch his flawless features twist and contract through the pleasure, the relief, and the glory.

When he’s fully seated, his breathing bursts into a surge of gasping groans. His arms come around me, and he searches my eyes.

Our exhales rise in invisible clouds, and his cock jerks inside me.

“I’m not going to last.” His fingers dig into my back, shaking.

“Don’t last. Just let go.”

He pulls out and slams into me with a demand of hips and strength. I cry out, grappling for any part of him I can cling to.

“Your body feels so damn good.” He plunges again and again, commanding me to take him, to accept every thick, ruthless inch of him. “Look at you. So fucking beautiful when I’m inside you.”

The rocky ledge behind me grinds against my spine, and the water slaps at our legs. We battle to squeeze closer, deeper, bending into each other with a passion that turns into teeth and nails.

He’s a hair-pulling, nipple-biting, skin-heating fury of aggression. No thrust is hard enough, no kiss punishing enough.

He watches me through it all, holding my weight, bouncing my breasts, and ramming into me with a burn that strokes my insides with flames while pushing me further, hotter, harder…

My release implodes in a sucking grip of spasms that devours all the air and shoots along my limbs in iridescent bubbles of rapture.

“Lorne!” I scream, choking, staring into his eyes as my whole body quivers and jerks.

“Fuck, Raina. I’m gonna come.” He grunts, his hips erratic, his gaze dialed into mine. “Let me come in you. I need to—”

“Yes.” My toes curl, and my back arches in anticipation. “Please.”

“Raina, oh, God. Oh, fuck.” His forehead crashes against mine. His lips hunt and claim as he groans and rages and pumps my body full of come.

The flexing strength in his torso, the taut cords in his neck, the blown pupils in his feral eyes… I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than this man in the throes of orgasm.

When he collapses against me with shallow breaths, I brush away the black strands from his brow.

“Are you concerned about catching a disease from me?” I mumble.

A twisted smile adorns his face. “I don’t fucking care.”

He pulls me closer, his cock softening inside me, as he hauls me toward the shore.

Lifting me out of the water, he carries me to a bed of damp grass and lowers me to the ground. He follows me down, still buried inside me, and slowly rocks his hips.

“What about pregnancy?” I hug him to me and kiss his reckless mouth.

“If it happens, it happens.” He thrusts gently, feeding his need and growing harder. “I want you. Without barriers. Damn the consequences.”

He deepens the kiss, and I push him back.

“I’m clean.” My breaths soften.

His quicken.

“John?” His jaw sets. “He made sure, didn’t he? He had you checked?”

“Yes. He also gave me regular injections of the birth control shot.” I run a hand across his cheek, trying to smooth the tension. “I’m glad, Lorne. If I’d gotten pregnant…” I shake off the thought. “I have a month before I need another shot.”