Wicked as Seduction: Trees & Laila - Part 1 (Wicked & Devoted 5)

He definitely had more to give Laila, lots more—inches, pleasure, and love.

Gripping her hips, he pulled back, again nearly withdrawing, then plunged forward with gritted teeth, a bellow of a groan, and a blindingly insistent urge to bury himself completely inside her—something he could rarely do with any woman, given his size.

Her back arched. She cried out, nails digging into him, as pure ecstasy softened her face.

It spurred him on, driving him to dangerous places. He needed to stop here. Give her the orgasms she’d asked for and play it safe. The risk of hurting her was too great.

But damn it if he wasn’t dying to bury every inch he had inside her until she screamed from being packed so full. Then he’d take her over the edge with stroke after hard, driving stroke.

Telling himself to dial it the fuck down, he reached between them and dragged his thumb over her clit. It was slick and hard as stone. At his first brush, she gasped. Her body jolted. Her cunt clamped hard on him.

“You like that?”

She nodded. “What is happening?”

“Orgasm, little one. It’s coming.”

He could see it gathering inside her with the flush blooming across her chest, reddening her cheeks. Even her lips had gone full and red. Her nipples were like diamonds raking his chest. When she looked up at him again with a plea in her wide, glazed eyes, he felt her need in every cell of his body.

So, so close… He rubbed her clit again, starting a steady, demanding rhythm that matched his tempoed strokes.

She tensed, tossed her head back again, and cried out. “Trees…”

Yes. He was on fire for her, and it took everything he had not to shove deeper and bury himself to the hilt. But she was so close. No way he would risk that by hurting her, especially since submerging every inch in her sweltering clasp would set him off. He would come instead of ramping her up and pleasuring her again for the sheer joy of watching her unravel and knowing he’d done that to her.

“Ride it, honey. Feel the edge.”

“It burns…” she gasped. “I feel blood rushing down, between…”

“Your legs?” He pumped her faster. “Filling your pussy like I am?”

“I cannot stop it.”

“Just let it happen. Come for me.”

She lifted her gaze to him, looking almost panicked. Her nails bit into his flesh as he pushed into her again, and her whole body went rigid. Pleasure flared across her face as she tightened on him, squeezing relentlessly. Then she wailed, her body thrashing, her hips rising, her legs curling around him as she pulled him in, closer, coaxing him deeper.

At her silent demand for more, Trees lost control, scooping her up in his grip, planting his knees on the mattress, and hurtling his way home—to the hilt—with one desperate stroke.

She took all of him, her orgasm seeming to rocket up to another level and sending her over an even higher cliff as she croaked out in agonized pleasure. “Trees!”

He roared into her over and over, pounding deep, until he lost everything—his restraint, his load, and his heart—pouring them all into her and never looking back.

His head swam and his vision went dark. The moment vibrated with the kind of ecstasy he’d never even fucking imagined.

What the hell had just happened?

Finally, he opened his eyes. His heart chugged like a runaway train. His breaths sawed in and out of his chest. He was still clutching her hips like his life depended on it, every inch of his cock shoved deep inside her.

Oh, fuck.

“Laila.”

She blinked, looking shell-shocked and frozen. Oh, Jesus. Oh, fuck. What the hell had he done?

He’d lost control, and he deserved every curse she hurled at his head and every shred of fury she would most likely unload on him.

“Little one, I’m so sorry. I never meant to…”

Tears leaked from her eyes, trailing down her temples and disappearing into her hairline. They were like twin stabs to his heart.

Goddamn motherfucking son of a bitch.

Thirty minutes ago, he’d wanted to kill every man who had ever hurt her, but in the heat of pleasure, he’d buckled and wounded her, too. The fact he hadn’t intended to didn’t mean jack shit.

He wanted to touch her—softly, gently. Swear on a stack of Bibles that he would never cause her an ounce of pain again if she would just…what, trust him? Yeah, he’d fucked that up. He would be damn lucky if she ever spoke to him again. There was no way she would ever let him near her.

And he didn’t blame her one bit.

Trees wiped her tears away with a gentle touch. When she flinched, it felt like she’d sliced his heart in half.

Slowly, praying like fuck he didn’t hurt her more, he began to withdraw.

He was stunned when her arms and legs tightened around him as if she didn’t want to let go.