Her grip around my neck tightens as she gives me those nails like the fuck bunny she is and leans forward to kiss my lips with total greed in her eyes.
Yeah, sweetheart.
Give it up.
I’ll shake you right down.
But she lets go of my neck as the kisses slow, even as I pull at her bottom lip with my teeth, sucking it into my mouth, holding her hostage.
My forehead rests on hers.
Our eyes meet, molten pools drawn together like magnets.
I rear back and thrust into her again, claiming her sweet little cunt.
It’s on.
Each stroke comes faster, harder than the last. I stir her from within, reflecting the storm that’s ripping me apart from the inside out.
“Oh. Oh! Oh, shit,” she whispers, her breathing ragged.
“Dakota,” I whisper, forcing my eyes open as I dive into her again to the hilt.
I have to make myself hold still.
Goddamn, it’s really not like it was with anyone else.
Sex with Dakota Poe is a meditation in lust. It takes more control to hold myself together than it does to send her crashing over the edge.
She holds her hands above her head, pinned against the wall with mine, her whole being vibrating. She’s about to come and I know it, her green eyes huge and gleaming.
“Let go.”
“W-what?” she whispers.
“Let it fucking go. I want to feel your pussy twitch when you blow. Suck me off without using your mouth,” I growl, pushing my head to hers, thrusting again for good measure.
A frustrated whine spills out of her and I know she won’t last long.
“Don’t stop!” she gasps through worn breaths.
Woman, like that’s even an option. You will dismember me if I stop now.
I reposition my arms so they’re between the wall and her head for extra leverage. Then it’s just a frenzied collision of hips, of sweat, of muffled breaths and muted curses and two desperate bodies melting into one.
I mean to fuck her straight through her first O when it hits, to make this last, but she tightens around me. It’s like pure silk squeezing the angry tip of my cock, urging me deeper, faster, harder.
“Dakota—fuck!” I’m roaring for her.
“Don’t stop, please!” she whines again.
I won’t deny her.
Her arms are fused around my neck, bolting me to her flesh. I lunge forward, letting her engulf me, filling her to the brim with a sound that’s less than human tearing from my throat.
There’s barely a second to brace for the fire fountaining up the base of my spine, lashing my brain like a whip.
Her orgasm, her heat, her everything quickens.
Her beautiful body clenches around me, and she lets out all the breath in her lungs with a light squeal.
The silence after is glorious and so intense I’m sure it shames the creation of the universe.
“Never-more.” I push it out of my mouth like two separate words.
Then I release so hard and fast I’m blinded.
17
Fantastic Terrors Never Felt Before (Dakota)
“Linc! You left the door unlocked,” I whisper.
His fingers don’t care.
We’re in his office at eleven o’clock in the morning; he’s behind me, and his thumb is on my clit.
The minute I walked in, he summoned me to his desk without a word and pulled me onto his lap. What started off as slow-burn kisses became my dress strap pulled down and Lincoln’s tongue tracing my raven tattoo.
“A broken heart. I don’t like it, even if I love how you taste,” he growls, gingerly circling my ink with his finger.
“Maybe it’s a work in progress,” I tease back honestly. I’m trying like hell not to reveal any wild hopes that he could give me a reason to alter this tattoo someday.
Five minutes later, he has me bent over his desk against my better judgment, my panties flicked aside before I can even protest.
“Is the door your only complaint, sweetheart?” His breath is heavy and so, so enticing against my neck.
Then his thumb moves again, tracing agonizing circles.
I grit my teeth.
“God. You’re just—you make this so hard.”
“If you wanted hard, all you had to do was ask.” He pauses. I sense him shifting behind me before I hear a zipper opening. “Guess you’d better get me the fuck off real fast.”
Bye, brain.
This is demented.
Anyone could walk in while we’re—ahem—and land us both in a world of hurt.
“Lincoln, we shouldn’t.”
“Does your little pussy agree?” He inhales sharply and there’s the crinkle of foil tearing.
I shudder as I imagine him sliding the condom onto his cock, no doubt seething in his hand.
“That’s what I thought, Nevermore,” he mutters.
He thumbs my clit, bringing his free hand to my mouth, positioning his wrist against my lips.
“Bite down if you’re worried about the noise. Look at the city out the window. It’s a beautiful morning. Far too pretty to waste being nice when you looked like a pinup the second you stepped through my door.”
Oh, God.