Crank (The Gibson Boys 1)

I’m drunk, doused in his spell, lit up with his attention and sated with his tenderness. It’s dizzying, my brain befuddled with too many sensations fighting for attention.

“Walker,” I moan, tipping my head back as he kisses down my neck. The ends of my hair tickle my waist, my breasts pushed forward as my shirt is lifted. They’re freed from the constraints of my pink lacy bra, resting on top of the cups.

When I look up, my breathing ragged, he’s smirking. “God, you’re beautiful.”

“You know what you are?”

“An asshole?”

Rubbing myself against his hardness, I lay a hand on each shoulder. “You can be. So much that I can’t stand you,” I say, kneading his muscles in my hands. “But you can be protective, like with Tommy at Crave. And caring like changing my oil, and even sweet like how you held me while we watched the movie,” I say, trying to drive home my point by refusing to let him look away. “You make me feel good.”

“I want to make you feel good, baby.”

Before I can process it, his head bends to my chest and sucks a darkened nipple between his teeth. Instantly, I’m wet, my pussy clenching, begging, throbbing for contact. I grind against him, swirling my hips as his hands hold on and guide me in slow, small circles.

It’s his turn to groan, biting the peak lightly before pulling back and looking at me like he’s about to devour me.

“That feels beyond good,” I moan, arching my back. My eyes fall closed, unable to hold open as my body switches to life.

“I told myself I was going to go slow,” he pants. “Easy. Enjoy it. But damn it if you don’t make it hard not to lose control.”

Climbing off his lap, I peel my shirt off and toss it to the floor. Emboldened by his words, buoyed by the confidence he bestows by giving me every single ounce of his attention, I don’t lose eye contact as I unbutton my jeans and tug the zipper down. In a couple of seconds, they’re in my hand and dropped to the side.

There’s a rush of breath, a blowing out of a lungful of air that accompanies his shirt flying through the air and landing near mine.

I’m almost naked, my bra and panties the only pieces of fabric still partially covering my body. I turn and face the wall. The sound of denim being discarded, shoes thudding against the floor, is the background music to the sound of blood whooshing by my ears.

I’ve never stood naked in front of someone before. Even now as I bend at the waist, sticking my ass out for his benefit, and peel the pink lace down my thighs, I wonder why in the world I’m not more self-conscious. I unsnap the back of my bra and feel it pool into my hands just beneath my breasts.

Flipping my head to the side, all my hair falling to one shoulder, I look at him over the other. He’s standing, his eyes glued to me, one hand gripping his cock.

The sight of the dot of pre-cum at the head, gaining a little more each time he strokes his impressive length, my legs feel like I’ve run a mile.

“Can I suck you?” I rasp, not just wanting but needing to make him feel as wanted as he makes me feel.

“Don’t say that,” he growls, squeezing himself harder. “I’ll come right now.”

He watches me with the intensity of a cat ready to pounce. His eyes strike down my body and up again, leaving a trail of flames in their wake. My mouth goes dry as he takes a step towards me.

My breasts are pulled together, the bra dangling from my hand beneath them. I feel like a vixen, as sexy as a cover model on one of the magazines I used to find hidden in my boyfriends’ rooms. I’ve never felt this way before; it’s the most powerful thing I’ve ever experienced.

I let my hand drop, the bra falling to the floor right along with Walker’s jaw. I take the remaining steps between us, and before he can pull away, wrap my mouth around the head of his cock and take him in as far as I can. His semen is warm and salty and coats my mouth before sliding down my throat.

He groans, his head falling back, his hips pressing forward towards my mouth. But as I take him deep a second time, he quickly pulls away.

“I can’t,” he croaks. “Don’t make me come yet.”

“Do I have that much control?” I tease, wiping my mouth with my hand.

“Woman, you’re in total control. Don’t you know that?”

My clit sends a zip of energy through my veins every time I move. My stomach is in knots, wetness streaking my thighs as I feel the desperation for him to be inside me compound to a point I can’t control it.