Dark Child (Wild Men 5)

I should get him some water, but the way he’s got me crushed to his body says I should stay. “Yeah?”

“Less blood.” He shudders. “And the body didn’t have Ross’s face, thank fuck.”

Oh yeah, because that was the pattern in the past two months. As if the rest wasn’t bad enough. “Good. You never told him he has a woman’s body in your dreams, did you?”

“Don’t think he’d appreciate that,” he mumbles, and I snicker softly.

Yeah, Ross’s sense of humor didn’t make an appearance the times I met him.

Then again, the last time he was in the hospital with all the bad news of the world heaped on him, so there’s also that.

I don’t know why I have a soft spot for Ross. I know he’s a bully, that he bullied Merc and his sisters. That alone should get me in a murderous rage against the guy, and it does.

But not all the time. Sometimes I remember his face when Merc told him that his mom’s skeleton was found. Or that his dad was the one who killed her. And my rage turns to ashes.

But I don’t think of Ross so often, because I’m busy loving Merc, and Merc is everything. Kind, affectionate, funny, sexy… loving. Look, tortured heroes may be swoon-worthy in books, but my golden boy is more lovable with every day that takes him away from the dark.

And sexier.

Okay, that’s a tough one to judge, since he’s so damn hot anyway, no matter what.

As if hearing my thoughts, he pulls back to kiss me. “Sorry,” he whispers, then licks at my mouth, stopping any protest. “I’ll get better.”

“I don’t need better.” It’s hard to break that hot kiss to say the words, but they need to be spoken. “I only need you, as you are.”

“God.” He groans, rocks against me, hardening against my thigh. “Want you.”

It’s like this most nights. Nightmares, and then sex.

Can’t complain about the latter part. It’s that good, I find myself daydreaming about it at work. Admin assistant secretary at the company I first interviewed for, miracle of miracles. Kinda boring, if exhausting, but I’m also taking history classes.

Turns out I may become an archaeologist, after all.

Merc’s tongue thrusts into my mouth, stroking mine, and I moan, pressing my body to his, running my hands over his solid biceps, his wide ribcage, his narrow hips. His hands are all over me, too, and lingering on my ass, gripping and kneading, pressing me against his hard-on.

He lifts my leg, opening me up and rubs his cock down my seam. I’m so incredibly wet, so sensitive down there, so painfully aroused I groan in his mouth.

This is why we sleep naked. Well, it’s nice to cuddle together without any barrier, anyway, but this…

He slides his hard length up and down, against my clit, between my folds, until I’m squirming and panting, almost on the brink, the pressure in my belly unbearable.

I kiss him back hungrily, trying to tell him to hurry up and get inside me.

But he takes his time, stroking me with his cock, his tongue fucking my mouth, nudging me back a little so he can pinch and roll my nipples until I’m arching up, caught between his body and his bed, between his mouth and hand and cock, unraveling.

He stops before I come, tearing a whimper from my throat.

He breaks the kiss and gives me a sexy, knowing grin. Licks the corner of my mouth. “Ready?” he murmurs.

So ready.

He slips the head of that big cock into me and I shiver. More whimpers fall from my lips as he shoves deeper. Every time it feels like the first, painful at first, then it turns to pleasure and an undefinable ache for the whole of him.

He gives it to me, rolling on his back, taking me with him, so I’m on top of him, so he can push deeper, so deep I can’t take anymore.

His hands steady me and I grip his forearms, trembling, looking down into his handsome face, his hooded eyes and bared teeth.

He’s so still. Straining not to move, to let me adjust. His broad chest rises and falls fast, in contrast to his forced stillness, small brown nipples and golden skin wrapped over sleek muscle.