Pagan (The Henchmen MC 8)

"The talking sh..." I started, only to have the rest of my sentence cut off on a gasp as his hands sank into my ass, yanking me a few inches forward, making his hard cock press against my heat. I took a slow, deliberate breath as his eyes went hooded. "Yeah, I think we're done with the talking shit," I agreed, the decision finally, finally made.

I wanted him.

It was as simple, and complicated, as that.

"Thank fuck," he said, one hand going to grab the back of my neck and dragging me down until his lips claimed mine.

Without thinking, my arm slipped from my chest, moving to hold onto him. His hands tightened, flattening me to him, my bare breasts crushing to his chest, making him let out a low groan directly before his tongue moved inside to toy with mine.

I couldn't say for sure, but it really felt like point-five seconds before I was so far gone, so beyond anything even resembling hesitance or uncertainty. The next thing I knew, my hips were grinding down into his, letting his cock slide up my cleft, hitting my clit with perfect precision, making me moan against his lips.

His hand curled into my hair, using it to yank me back, watching me as he thrust upward as I did another swipe, the pressure causing a desire so acute that it couldn't be called anything other than actual pain.

"Pagan..." My voice held a pleading, a question, and his eyes got even hotter in response.

He yanked harder on my hair, making my whole upper body arch backward to ease the sting. My breasts were just above his face, and he arched upward without hesitation and sealed his lips around my nipple, sucking so hard that I saw white at the unexpected current of even stronger need to my heat, something I was sure a second before wasn't even possible.

One of my hands went to the back of his neck, silently begging for more which he was all too happy to give me as his lips pulled back and his teeth nipped hard, the sting an actual pain that he took away as his tongue started to swipe over the sore peak before moving across my chest to continue the torment there.

"Pagan... please," I begged, my hips pressing against him harder, needing the friction, needing an end to the pressure low in my belly.

"Like you fucking begging for my cock, pet," he growled as he released my nipple, angling his head to look up at me. "But not yet."

You'd have sworn he had just told me that everything I ever wanted out of life was never going to happen. That was how intense the disappointment felt in that moment.

But before the sensation could even settle, I found myself moving, ripped off his lap, and shoved into the seat he had vacated, leaving him kneeling before me, fingers tracing up my inner thighs.

His finger traced the line where my pantie met the crease of my thigh, making a visible shudder course through me. It was something he made another rumbling noise at a bare second before a jolt of pleasure shot through me as his finger pressed firmly into my clit.

The whimper ripped from my lips, almost foreign-sounding to my ears, overly loud in the quiet, still night.

I lost the touch for the barest of seconds before I felt it again, this time without the barrier as his hand slipped inside my panties. His thumb worked my clit as another finger traveled down, stroking my lips then around the entrance for a painfully long minute before I felt a finger slowly press inside me.

There was no searching, no fumbling for it. His finger curled inside and raked over my G-spot with precision, a sensation that made the muscles in my inner thighs shake hard.

"Jesus Christ," he hissed, yanking his hands out of my panties, wrapping an arm around my lower back, and dragging me onto my feet as he got to his, hauling me over the side of the hot tub with him and slamming me back against the wall of his house, lips claiming mine again. If possible, harder, hungrier than ever before. And, judging by how hard his cock was pressing into my belly, he was just as far gone as I was.

His hand slid down my side, slipping into the panties at the hip, and yanking. The splitting of the fabric sent a thrill through me, something primal and intoxicating in the idea of a man ripping your clothes off because he couldn't stand a barrier between him and your body. Then he was grabbing my knee, forcing my leg around his back, his hands slipping to hold my ass as he started moving, carrying me into his house as my arms went around his shoulders.