Breathe for Me (Be for Me 1)

Yeah, he was screwed. His control slipped with every brazen word she uttered. But he summoned enough strength mutter a reply. “Oh you do?”

“Every… last… drop.” That fingernail tapped sharply—staccato to her smooth purred words.

His innards burned, muscles seized—wanting to burst free from the confines of his skin. “And then?”

“We devour.”

He closed his eyes, refusing to come on the spot. Refusing to grab and take in a ferocious frenzy.

“Chelsea.” He all but begged for mercy. “I can’t be…” he huffed out a breath and tried again. “It’s been too long since I saw you. I’m like… a bullet here.”

He wanted her. Wanted, wanted, wanted. Her beneath him. Savage and raw and rough. He wanted to ram into her so hard, to have her all and his. He wanted it so much and so instantly, he didn’t think it could be any good for her.

“You want me to lose control?” His voice cracked and he shook his head. “You’d better tie me up.” He warned. “I’ve missed you too much to be gentle.”

Her eyes were on fire. He didn’t miss the way her hips did a little rotate—a small circle, the heat inside was making her dance already.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “You won’t hurt me.”

But he couldn’t help noticing she backed up a pace.

“I might,” he said. Honest.

Shaking her head she laughed. “I’m strong. So strong. And so are you,” she murmured, taking another step back. “Besides…” Her eyes glittered. “You’d have to catch me first.”

He froze for one moment, stunned as she laughed—really laughed right at him. And then she ran.

A heartbeat later he was running too—thundering quickly around the apartment. Hunting her.

She was playing with him. Really playing. Heart thumping, he wanted to roar with satisfaction. But adrenalin had him, and basic instinct. He wanted to win. He caught sight of her darting into the kitchen.

Cat and mouse? Right now he didn’t know who was who.

He got into the kitchen a split second after she’d gone out the other door to the dining room. He listened, hearing her heels tap unevenly on the wood as she skipped as quickly as she could given her weaker leg. The corridor.

He retraced his steps, got to the door just as she was opening it. He reached above her and slammed it shut but she ducked out from under his arm.

Sneaky and surprisingly fast.

“Run all you like,” he called out to her, his heat growing. “You’re not getting away.”

Never again.

He heard her laughter coming from his room. Clearly she’d gotten acquainted with his apartment in the hour or so she’d had it to herself. He grinned at the sound of her amusement, the sheer delight. Yeah, the chase turned him on more. Her laughter tormented him. All he could see was her. A slim thing in black, a few paces in front towards the lounge, half-running ridiculously fast in those shoes.

And it was time to put an end to it. He closed doors as he went, aiming to narrow down her options. Then he got her cornered in the lounge.

For a moment they both stopped still. Her chin was high, her eyes alight with amusement and excitement. It only took an extra burst of speed, there really wasn’t anywhere for her to go. He swooped, taking her to the floor, grunting in raw satisfaction.

“Oh,” she sighed. “You got me.”

But before he could do anything, she twisted, flipping up onto her knees and pushing him to his knees at the same time. His heart seized with how quickly she undid his zipper. With the rough way she yanked his jeans open, and freed him from his boxers. She laughed—that sexy-as-fuck throaty laugh as she bent. A split-second later her reddened lips sucked him in.

He couldn’t help it. He thrust, too hard. And nearly died when she leaned forward for more. “Chelsea…” His voice gave out. “This is…”

Her jaw dropped and she sucked harder. Her hands worked in time cupping his balls, gripping the root of his cock tight and squeezing while her tongue circled over his tip. He trembled, pre-cum spurting.

No.

He pulled out, a loud smack sounding as he left her suction. Her growl of disappointment was fierce. Her hands tightened almost painfully on him. He grasped her wrists and dragged her arms wide before releasing them. He didn’t give a damn about any kind of control anymore.

“Hands and knees, puss.” He demanded, shoving down between her shoulder blades, pushing her down to all fours, pushing harder still so her ass was high in the air. He knelt behind her.

She turned her head over one shoulder to watch him. Wearing that tormenting smile on her lips. Frustrating him as he gazed at her black-clad body.

“How do I get you out of this fucking suit?” he growled.

“You don’t need to,” she said slyly. “It is a fucking suit.” She lifted a hand from the floor, sliding it between her parted thighs. Xander’s heart seized as she touched herself, pointing out the smallest of slits in the clinging black fabric. In that opening he could see her—pink, glistening.

He nearly came on the spot. He dragged in a pained breath and then swiped her fingers away. He leaned forward to touch her with his tongue. More than glistening, she was wet. He heard her groan, felt the ripple through her body. She planted both hands, fingers wide, on the wooden floor to brace herself. She was as close as he. He all but snarled, then let his tongue learn just how big the slit in that fabric was. Hell, she tasted so damn good, he couldn’t get enough.

She shook violently and he grabbed her to stop her moving too much. He wanted to screw her with his tongue first so he was sure she’d come. Because once he shoved his cock in, it’d be over too damn quick. He lapped at her, loving how she groaned, how she tasted, how she tensed. He pulled back for a second to finger her well—teasing, shallow plunges designed to send her insane.

It worked. She pressed her forehead to the floor, her ass up high in the air and screamed.

“Now Xander!” She howled for him—telling him oh so bluntly what she wanted. He heard her fury, her want. Her desperation. Her total loss of control. He felt her pulsing around his tongue—her tight body trying to grip onto him. Hungry for more. For all of him.

Damn. Now she was free and he didn’t know if he was going to be able to keep up with her after all. But he sure as hell couldn’t take anymore of this. There was nothing else he could do—he was bare and her wet sex was right there.

He gripped her hips with a hold that had to hurt. But he didn’t care—and nor did she. Not when she was screaming ‘yes’ at him so loudly over and over and over.

He thrust deep. Instantly rocking back to thrust again—deeper, harder. Vicious. Frantic.

Still she screamed for him. “Yes, yes, yes!”

Rabid lust rolled over him, snapping the last remnants of his control. He reached forward and ripped her mask off. Her head jerked with the force as he tore the little elastic strap that had gone under her chin. Her hair shook out and he gripped a swathe of it—forcing her head back. Her mouth parted, he could see her eyes glazed with passion. Her breathing ragged.

With one hand on her hip and the other in her hair he held her still—so she could never escape. He shouted her name as he thrust into her again and again. Pounding more wildly than he’d ever done in his life.

No more words came from her hot mouth, just a raw scream. And all he could see was red. A cloud of passion drowned him in an orgasm so intense he lost all sense of his surroundings. There was nothing but her.

Nothing but him owning her.

She fell forward and so did he—landing right over her. Pinning her. It shouldn’t feel so satisfying. He forced himself to roll to the side so she could breathe. He was having trouble enough filling his own lungs.

He looked at her. Her lips were still slick and red—her cheeks red now too. His body shook. He didn’t know how he was going to survive this.

He leaned forward, instinct driving him. He kissed her. Swirling his tongue around

the warmth of her mouth. She gasped deep and opened for him—he loved the way she opened for him. He wanted back inside her tight, wet heat. Memory of that sensation seized him—that heat, that wet?

Shit. He hadn’t stopped to use a condom. He hadn’t even thought of it. How out of control was that? How irresponsible? How freaking insane? Cold panic flooded him. He was going to have to confess. “Did I hurt you?” he asked carefully.

“No.” She stretched, just like a little cat.

He smoothed his hands down her body. Petting her. Touching her helped settle his frantic pulse. So did the sweet smile on her lips.

“I didn’t use protection then,” he quietly admitted, watching close for her reaction. “I wasn’t thinking. I’m so sorry.”

Her blue eyes widened slightly. “I wasn’t thinking either.”

She licked her lips, a gleam lighting her eyes—it couldn’t be satisfaction?

“We don’t need to worry about contraception,” she said. “I’m covered for that. And I’m clean otherwise.”

The cold lump in his chest eased. He nodded. “Me too. First time I’ve gone without a jacket in a decade.”

She smiled that sly smile. “It felt good.”

Hell, he was hard again. He wanted again. Which should be impossible—he’d been almost unconscious a couple minutes ago. And right now he should be freaking out about making such a rookie mistake. But the insanity was sliding over him again, a hot haze clouding his rational mind. Sliding straight back into fantasy.

Her fantasy.

“Burglars. When they’re caught. Have to be punished.” Her voice was so husky.

“Good point,” he answered. He watched the color of her eyes get swallowed her black pupils. “What’s the usual punishment?”

“They’re usually incarcerated.”

His heart stopped pumping. “Locked up?”

“Restrained.”