Half in pleasure, half i
n pain, I tilt my body to take all of him as his next thrust goes even deeper—to the razor’s edge of what I think I can bear. I want everything he’ll give me, the pleasure and the pain. The raw possession.
The complete dominance that demands nothing less than my full surrender.
He grinds out a tight curse and I groan when I feel him withdraw too far, too fast for my liking. He shifts behind me, the flat of his palm coming down on my ass in a sharp smack. “On your hands and knees, baby.”
As I hurry to comply, I register that he’s disposing of the spent condom from our last bout of the morning and rolling on a fresh one. He returns a moment later, the heat of his body radiating over my bare backside, which is on full display for him in the thin light of morning.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, skimming his hands up the outsides of my parted thighs, then onto the rounded curve of my ass.
Facing the floor-to-ceiling window, I watch the faint ghosts of our reflection in the glass as he looms behind me naked on his knees, his strong hands roaming all over my body. I arch and shudder as his fingers leave no inch of me untouched. The warm coil of need that held me a moment ago now twists tighter, hotter, aching with anticipation of the pleasure still to come.
“All of this belongs to me,” he says, while his fingers skate back down to splay atop my bare cheeks, then squeeze, opening me wider to him. Then he releases my ass only so he can slide one palm along the length of my bowed spine while the other one delves into the drenched and pulsing cleft of my sex. “All of you, Avery. Mine.”
“Yes.” The word rushes out of me, both an admission and a plea.
I am his, even if I’m not quite certain what his possession will mean for me in the end. Although I’m falling in love with him—and I’ve confessed as much to him—we’ve made no promises to each other beyond these hundred nights.
Right now, all I need is the next moment. I need to feel him inside me.
“Nick, please.” My voice is little more than a whimper, my breath panting and shallow.
He leans over me, pushing my shoulders down onto the mattress so that my backside is angled high. Lust floods me, animalistic and urgent. He is naturally dominant, and, in spite of my history, nothing turns me on faster or harder than submitting to Nick’s carnal control.
He reaches down to caress my face with the back of his hand—the one that’s riddled with angry scars, horrific wounds he’s dismissed as the result of a foolish brawl when he was eighteen. They are the only flaws on his otherwise perfect body.
At times in these past few months we’ve been together, I’ve wondered if there are other scars he doesn’t allow me to see. I know there must be, because the broken parts of me recognize the fractures in him, even if he hasn’t permitted me close enough to touch them yet.
When his thumb brushes my lips, I stroke my tongue against it, then draw him into my mouth the way I want to—need to—draw him into my body.
His groan sounds ragged as I suck him deep. His pelvis bucks against my ass, his erection wedged between the slickness of my cleft.
“Ah, fuck,” he snarls, rubbing the pad of his thumb against the cushion of my tongue as he guides his cock to my entrance. “Hang on, baby.”
The low command is a warning. I feel his ferocity building even before he pushes inside me on a sharp roar. There is no gentleness in him as he pulls his hand away from my mouth and gathers my loose hair in his grasp. He winds the blond tresses tautly around his fist, until I feel the sting all over my scalp.
I am instantly lost to the violence of his passion—and my own.
He powers into me like a tempest, furious and unrelenting. His words rasp low and dark above me, praise and profanity, my name uttered like a prayer as he takes me over body, heart and soul.
Braced on my hands, with my head pulled back and my shoulders pinned to the mattress, I stare through pleasured tears at the carnality of our lovemaking reflected with fading clarity in the window glass and the warming colors of the summer morning now bursting to life on the other side.
My chest aches with emotion as my orgasm swiftly builds. This is when I feel most alive—held fast against this man, naked and surrendered to him completely. Feeling the full measure of his power and fury, yet knowing there is nowhere safer that I can be.
The sensations overwhelm me. The beauty and the pain and the pleasure.
I want to hold all of it close. I want to memorize every moment.
I want to paint everything I’m feeling, even though it’s been weeks since I’ve worked on anything new.
“Oh, God . . . Nick.” My grasp on lucid thought slips away as my climax chases up on me. Eyes closed, I bite down on my lip as Nick’s merciless tempo pushes me right over the edge. The scream that rips from my throat is jagged, uncontrolled.
Nick’s guttural shout a moment later is no less primal. With the fingers of one hand digging into my hip, the other still wound tightly in my hair, he rams deep, a hard shudder raking him as he comes.
Although I’m spent and trembling from my release, he continues to rock inside me, losing little of his hardness, despite the ferocity of his own orgasm. He moves slowly, patiently, gentling me now. Tender kisses light on my shoulder, then along my spine. He lets go of my hair, carefully unwinding it, then combing his fingers through the loosened strands.
As turbulent as our sex often is, his aftercare is impossibly sweet.