He settled back and raised a knee so the sheet would hide the evidence of exactly how he was feeling at this moment. He felt like stripping his shirt off her and finding out if her tits were as sensitive to touch as they were to temperature. Could she come just from light, grazing kisses, or did she prefer to be eaten alive? “Better. You don’t have to do my laundry.”
“I was doing a load anyway, so…” She shrugged and resumed putting his clothes in the dresser.
Leaning into his drawers had the hem of his shirt riding high on the backs of her thighs. Disregarding his better judgment, he sat a little straighter and swallowed another groan when she bent low to put clothes in a bottom drawer. The T-shirt rose like a theater curtain to reveal the underside of her ass. His dick attained an angle even the draped sheet wouldn’t hide. “Feel free to borrow a pair of boxers, too, since you seem to be out of underwear.”
“Excuse me, Officer, I’m wearing underwear.” She flipped the back of the shirt up to prove it and treated him to a glimpse at her spectacular backside semi-covered by miniscule white panties stretched snug and high across her ass. “See, I have…”
He was out of the bed before she could finish the sentence.
…
One minute she’d been putting clean sweatpants into West’s dresser. The next, a strong arm lassoed her waist and spun her bodily toward the bed. West muttered a prayer or a curse—she couldn’t be sure—before gathering a tangle of bedding and tossing the pile over the footboard. Then he tossed her over as well. She landed with a suddenness that emptied her lungs. It took a second for her world to stop spin
ning, but once it did, she conducted a quick personal inventory. He had her over the end of his bed with her upper body sprawled across the mattress, her cheek flush against a sheet still warm from his body. Her hormones ignited and desire melted through her, leaving her damp and breathless.
“Christ almighty, Reckless. If this isn’t what you had in mind when you sashayed in here half-naked, speak up now.”
She heard the question in his voice. Despite the display of dominance involved in manhandling her into her current position, despite the palpable amount of male lust looming behind her, or the firm hold of a single rangy hand pinning both of hers together at the small of her back, she heard the question. She’d sashayed in here this morning with a careless mindset. A kid playing with matches, hoping for a dangerous thrill, but instead of a few sparks she’d set off a fire. In him. In her. He was offering her a safe exit, but she didn’t want safe. She’d been smoldering too long. She wanted to burn.
“Please.”
“Please what, Rox?” His sleep-roughened voice contrasted starkly with the gentle touch of one blunt fingertip tracing the curve of the phoenix wings that spanned the lowest part of her back. She couldn’t suppress a shiver. “Please yes, or please no?”
It was possibly the most messed-up decision of her whole messed-up life, but she made it without hesitation. She’d deal with salvaging herself afterward. Her feet found traction on the polished pine floor. She pushed up to her toes so the T-shirt pooled at her waist, baring herself to him as best as she could.
Long fingers sank into her hair, gripped just hard enough to guide her chin up and turn her so she faced the other way, then slid slowly down her spine. Their reflection stared back at her from mirrored closet doors. She saw herself slung over the end of his bed, back arched for another caress.
And him. Lord. Have. Mercy.
She drank that sight in from the ground up—from sturdy feet planted on either side of hers, to long, corded calves and rugged thighs. His ass couldn’t have been more perfect in shape and proportion if Michelangelo himself had carved it from marble. A flex of his hips dug a mouthwatering hollow into the side of his glute. Her attention roved to his cock—thick and jutting from the holster of his fist, the head much closer to her than she’d realized. Close enough to make her sex clench and release with anticipatory quivers. More honed muscles rippled along his abs and ribs, guiding her stare up…up…up. Their eyes met. “Please, yes,” she whispered.
Every ounce of his focus dropped to where their bodies poised to merge. His gaze felt tangible…some new kind of touch she had no ability to withstand. Watching him look at her like this—laid out for the taking—caused another spasm of want deep inside her. Watching him hook his fingers into the back of her panties, feeling the fabric pull tight, brought a needy moan to her throat. She shifted her hips, impatient to be free of the underwear she’d selected this morning without much thought. Had she known when she’d pulled them on that West would assume responsibility for removing them, she might have chosen something classier than white cotton hot-shorts with If you can read this you’re probably going to get laid emblazoned across the back in looping red script. Maybe she would have skipped them altogether like he’d originally assumed. Would he pull them down or simply shove them aside?
Or would he just continue torturing her like this, she wondered, as he worked another moan out of her by testing the give of the fabric. Her moan turned to a startled squeak as one hard, fast tug rent the garment. It landed in a whisper at her feet. The white stood out like a flag of surrender against the dark-stained floor, and for a frantic half second, she wondered if she’d come out of this just as beyond repair. Was she sure she knew what she was doing? But then he guided the wide, smooth head of his cock down the path no longer shielded by anything—classy or otherwise—and her thoughts scattered. Her attention darted back to the mirror, while inner muscles dissolved into a frenzy of flutters.
Chin tucked to his chest, brow furrowed, West lined her up like a pool shot. That wide, smooth head nudged her threshold. Impatience made her push her hips back and intensify the contact.
“You don’t want to rush me, Reckless. Not after inciting me for weeks. The worst of it is you don’t even know how you broke me. You think we’re here because you flashed this ass”—he cupped one cheek and squeezed—“and jiggled these tits.” Leaning over, he eased his hands under her torso and slid them up to cup her breasts. “You’re wrong. It’s every damn thing you do without even trying.” Straightening, he gripped her hips again. “That’s what makes you reckless.”
His words turned all her swirling anticipation hot and dangerous. The nickname suited her, for once, because she felt recklessly out of control. With her body folded in such an emphatically submissive position, and two hundred pounds of riled-up, hung-over, hard-packed man behind her wielding a thick, heavy cock she’d teased past all civilized limits, there wasn’t a chance in hell of a slow, gentle fucking. No, she was about to get retribution or reward—maybe both—in the form of a flesh-slapping, bone-jarring, mind-numbing subjugation. She’d feel it inside and out, possibly for the rest of her life. Wanting it more than she’d wanted anything in a long time—and she’d grappled with some pretty serious wants in her life—she lifted her hips as high as she could.
His first thrust pushed a low groan out of him and rocked her onto her tiptoes. She squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip to keep from crying out in ecstasy, or agony, or some indefinable place in between. So big. So much. She blinked her eyes open and checked the mirror. Oh God. So much more still to receive. Before she could catch her breath, he gripped her hips, withdrew a fraction, and thrust deep. Deep enough to jostle a cry from her after all. Deep enough to make their bodies come together with an audible clap. Deep enough to fill her mind with a single, desperate imperative—Wider!—even as her body instinctively strived to make room for him. She lifted one leg and searched for somewhere to brace it while struggling to stand firm on her other trembling limp. “West…wait.” Needing more leverage, she fisted her hands in the sheet under her.
“We’re way past ‘wait,’ Roxy. The time for ‘wait’ came and went the second you walked in here in nothing but my T-shirt and your fuck-me panties,” his voice rumbled from behind her. “There is no…wait…left…in…me.” But even as he fucked those words into her, he caught her roaming leg and hitched her knee along the bedrail.
Her whimper of gratitude might have embarrassed her, but there was no time for reflection. He hiked her hips high, pushing in, sliding out, pushing in again, accompanied by a soundtrack of brass battering plaster and skin slapping skin. Like any good musician, she worked to keep up her end of their duet, but he added an extra beat here and there so she could never get a perfect handle on the rhythm. He kept her off balance, kept her guessing, kept her frantic for the next surge because every forceful thrust shoved her throbbing clit into the bedding and gave her a fleeting opportunity to sneak in a completely self-serving grind. All the friction from him moving inside her, and the pressure from her moving under him, set off tremors deep within—little warnings of something imminent and devastating building below the surface sensations. Each withdrawal dragged her back from the brink, like a tidal creature caught in a receding wave.
She clawed the mattress and fought the backward momentum even as her inner muscles hugged his shaft, clinging to him.
“Do it, Roxy. Tear up my bed. Come on my sheets. Make sure that weeks from now when that restless heart of yours has led you somewhere new, I’m lying here drenched in your scent, dreaming of you.”
“I—” She couldn’t reply. She’d lost touch with the part of her brain that handled sophisticated responses. Only a primitive speech center remained intact to communicate the most basic biological urges. “I need…”
Lodging himself deeper, he adjusted his hold on her hips and pressed her firmly into the bedding, letting her buck and grind at will. His thumbs g
lided back and forth over her sweat-drenched skin, stroking her tattoo, encouraging her to slow her rampant pace. “Show me what you need. Show me how you move this sweet ass when you want to come.”
Through a pre-orgasmic haze, she caught his reflection in the mirror. Head down, jaw locked, attention fixed on her backside as it rose and fell with each clumsy pump of her hips. He helped her along with the smallest of thrusts every time she prepared to bear down on his cock.