Seth (Damage Control 3) - Page 78

“Seth.” I moan when he rocks against me. “Please.”

“What do you want?” he breathes. “Tell me.”

“Inside me. Oh God…” I can’t believe how much I need it, I need him. Never felt like I’ll weep, like I’ll die if he doesn’t do it. If he doesn’t push that big cock into me all the way.

Jesus.

Before I freak out at myself, he reaches for something on the low table. His wallet, I realize, from which he pulls a square foil.

A condom. Right. Christ, can’t believe I wasn’t even thinking about protection in my desperate need of him.

Shit, what’s happening to me? Why am I still sitting in his lap, throbbing between my legs, my breasts aching—why did I come back here and tell him I wanted what he’d offered? Oh crap, what—?

“Hey. Still with me?” He stills in the process of rolling the condom on his cock, and as my eyes focus again, my mouth waters. No guy’s cock has any right to make me salivate.

Except this one apparently does. Without conscious thought, I lower my hand to it, outline the flared crown through the rubber, the thick vein running on the underside, all the way down. His hard length twitches under my touch, his stomach clenches and he grabs my arm, breathing deeply through his nose.

When I look up into his eyes, he smiles, a sexy curl of his full lips—and the heat is back, scorching me.

I look down at his hard-on, lick my lips. “Please.”

He groans. “Fuck, say it again.”

“Please, Seth,” I whisper. “I want you inside me.”

“Goddammit.” Suddenly he twists and lowers me on the sofa. I’m flat on my back, and he’s between my legs, braced on his hands over me, his cock rubbing on my folds, spreading me open. “Hold on to me.”

He lifts my legs, one after the other, drapes them over his hips, wraps them around his waist—and oh God, the tip of his cock nudges at my entrance. I throw my arms around his neck as he presses into me, my head falling back at the incredible feeling of his cock slipping into me, filling me.

Just when I think I can’t take any more of him, he stops, lips parted, breathing ragged, his chest rising and falling, making his dark ink dance. He’s looking down at me, and I’m transfixed by the intensity of his gaze. There’s a question in his eyes, and I nod.

Yes. Please. More.

One side of his mouth tips up in a crooked smile that makes my breath hitch, and he starts to move. Pulls out, a long, slow drag that has me squirming, and then pushes back inside, a deep, smooth slide that makes me arch on the sofa. Pleasure pools deep inside of me, threatening to drown me, and I claw at his shoulder blades, trying to anchor myself.

This is… huge. I can feel it building in my core, a gathering tempest, an impossible pressure that’s bound to shatter me to a million pieces. I buck against him, and as if he’d been waiting for my signal, he lowers his head, puts his mouth on mine, and starts moving faster.

Good God. What he’s doing now, rocking in and out of me fast and hard, it’s pushing me so fast toward the edge I can’t find the brakes. I moan helplessly in his mouth as the pressure crests and I clench around his length so hard I see stars.

He breaks the kiss, draws a hissing breath. “Fuck…” His hips roll, his cock swells more, triggering mini explosions in my core, and then he comes with a low groan. I feel the warmth of his cum through the thin rubber, and Christ, I clench around him even harder, pleasure spiking through me again, taking me apart.

He collapses on top of me, muttering something I can’t make out, as I sob for breath and wrap myself around him like a starfish. I need him close, closer, like I’d climb into him and curl there. Safe. Happy. Warm.

He shifts, rolling off me, gathering me in his arms and kissing my hair as if I’m something precious to him.

And now I have tears rising to my eyes. Crap. I wish he didn’t pretend so well that he cares. He’s really good at this. So good I can almost believe it.

***

It’s Sunday. The realization hits me as I blink at a cracked ceiling with a warm, solid weight at my back and over my ribs. No idea what triggered that random thought. Maybe it’s the fact I’m not alone in the room, and despite the crick in my neck I’m comfortable and content to lie where I am, not moving.

Not to break the spell, the dream-like quality of the moment. The way my heart fills with happiness when I realize the band weighing over my ribs is his arm, his other wedged under my head in guise of a pillow, and his strong body is fitted to the curve of my back.

We’re spooning.

My pulse speeds up. Oh God, it’s… sweet. Never done this with a guy before, and it makes me all tingly and fuzzy inside.

His breath ruffles the hair on top of my head. His chest rises and falls, pressed to my back. I can feel every breath he draws, feel his steady, slow heartbeat.

Tags: Jo Raven Damage Control Romance
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