Pagan (The Henchmen MC 8)

"On your stomach, pet," he demanded, moving toward the nightstand as I forced my lazy limbs to roll as instructed. I turned my head to watch him slide the condom on, then move out of view back toward the foot of the bed. "Nice fucking view," he praised a second before I felt his body fold over mine, his chest into my back, his cock against my ass, his face in my neck where he sucked in the skin hard, making me sure there would be a mark and just as sure that I genuinely did not care.

His scruff scraped down my skin, eased by his lips or tongue, every motion sweet, yet somehow explosive to my system. By the time I felt his teeth bite into the left side of my ass, I was beyond turned on again.

Then he lifted up and his cock slid between my folds and pressed against my pussy, not quite pushing in, just a firm pressure, hinting at fulfillment without offering it.

"Pagan, please," I whimpered, shamelessly shoving my ass up in the air, demanding he take me.

Then he did.

Slowly, so I felt every thick inch spread me.

"Too fucking long," he growled, speaking the words I felt to my core. Four days, when four minutes felt like an eternity.

He started slow, sweet, gentle, unhurried, like he had told me he would. But it wasn't long before my body, and therefore my mouth, was begging for harder, faster, an end to the beautiful torment.

And Pagan, likely so far gone himself, gave me what I demanded, pounding into me hard and fast and unrelenting, never giving the orgasm a chance to wane, making it build and crash almost painfully through my system.

There was no scream that time, my lungs feeling oddly constricted, so all I got out was a strangled whimper of his name as he slammed through the waves, dragging them out, making them last until I swore I felt it through every inch of my body.

Then and only then did I hear him curse and call my name as he slammed deep and came.

He stayed buried deep for a long minute, one hand clutching my hip almost hard enough to bruise. Then he slowly slid out of me and disappeared for a moment before he dropped down on his back beside me, making me angle my head over at him, finding him already watching me with a sly smile.

"Don't get too comfortable," he said, slapping a hand onto my ass cheek hard enough to smart then giving it a squeeze. "I'm nowhere fucking near done with you."

"Oh yeah?" I asked a little groggily, completely wiped from two intense orgasms in a row.

"Yeah, pet. Got about a hundred more positions we got to try and about... ten rooms in this house we need to break in."

Something about the way he said 'we' made an unwelcome sliver of hope slide into my heart, hope that it wasn't just casual, that it meant something. Or, alternately, that it was on the way to meaning something.

"Come on," he said, sitting up and getting up toward the top of the bed. I pushed up onto all fours, catching the look he was giving me. "You gonna crawl to me, Kennedy?" he asked, his voice oddly heavy with something I didn't know him well enough to interpret. When I paused, feeling suddenly weird about the whole thing, his eyes went deep and heated. "Crawl to me," he demanded quietly, barely more than a rumble, patting his chest.

And, well, if he was offering to have me lay on his chest, there was no way I wasn't going to go to him. So I did, each move making his face get more and more intense.

I slid in beside him, his arm settling heavy on my shoulders and folding me onto his chest where I settled happily, perhaps way too happily to be honest. His one arm stayed around my shoulders, the other sliding over my skin for a long couple of minutes before settling at my hips.

His chest expanded wide on what had to have been a yawn, reminding me that he had snuck out while I was asleep, likely after having very little, if any, sleep himself.

"You need some sleep," I told his chest, my hand tracing over a strange almost circular scar on his pec.

"Ain't gonna lie," he said, giving me a small squeeze. "It's not bad to have a woman fussing over me."

Finding myself completely unable to stop the impulse, I turned my head just slightly and pressed a kiss to the center of the scar I had been tracing. "Get some sleep," I said, trying desperately to maybe take his attention away from the gesture that I was sure was a little too sweet for him. "You can screw me silly when you wake up," I offered, smiling when his chest rumbled with a quiet chuckle.