Heather's Gift (Men of August 3)

As her gaze cleared, she saw the gun tucked into his jaw, the ragged emotion on his face. Dear God, what was she doing? She whimpered, lowering the weapon then tossing it to the side.

“You’ve driven me to rape,” she told him angrily, her hands bracing on his chest. “I swear to God, Sam, if you don’t put out this fire…”

“Heather.” One hand lifted from her rear, his fingers gently tucking back the strands of her hair as he cupped her cheek.

His expression was somber, though his eyes were lit with a lust that flamed in the blue-gray depths.

“Not like this,” he whispered, his hand trembling. “I’ll hurt you…God damn!”

She moved, not wanting to hear any more protestations, no more apologies. She pressed down on the thick shaft, taking the bulging head, feeling it split through the entrance of her vagina, stretching her, sinking into her as her muscles trembled in protest.

She stilled to adjust, then watched in amazement as his eyes darkened, his expression transforming. His eyelids lowered as an expression of pleasure, sensual, lustful and all consuming, washed over his face.

“Damn,” he growled, his fingers tangling in her hair, the other hand gripping her hip. “You’re tight, Heather. So fucking tight…”

Only the thick tip was buried inside her, but Heather could feel her muscles gloving it, milking at it, fighting to draw him in. She needed him hard and deep, needed to feel the little bite of pleasure/pain that would send her soaring into ecstasy.

She cried as he moved then. A smooth display of power as he shifted, rolling her to her back, and never once losing the penetration of her body. She was beneath him, staring up at him as he rose between her thighs, his knees spreading her, opening her to him as he stared down at where his flesh split her cunt open.

“I warned you,” he whispered. “I tried to, Heather. Tried to protect you.” He shook his head, grimacing as his cock pulsed inside her.

“I don’t need you to protect me, I need you to fuck me. Now, Sam.”

Her breath rushed from her throat as his cock slammed inside her pussy. Every hard, hot, thick—oh God, so thick—inch tore through the small channel that had never known an invasion other than the slender vibrators she used irregularly.

Every muscle in her body screamed in protest. Her head thrashed, her hips bucking against him as he ground his pelvis into the swollen knot of her clit.

“You’re tight, Heather.” His voice rumbled from his throat as he stilled inside her. “So tight I can feel your pussy sucking at every inch of my cock.”

His hand smoothed up her stomach, her ribs, his hands finally cupping her breasts as his fingers gripped the hard nipples that peaked them. Heather was dazed, fighting the knowledge that only a slender thread separated pleasure and pain, and at the moment Sam’s cock had her held precariously upon it.

She could feel her vagina clenching on him. To force him out, or force him to stay? Each ripple around his thick flesh was a sensuous bite of sensation that became nearly orgasmic as he ground himself deeper inside her.

“Sam.” Her head thrashed against the blanket as he pushed his knees closer together beneath her thighs, angling her harder onto the thick spear piercing her tender flesh.

“Do you like it, Heather?” he whispered sensually. “Your cunt’s so tight it’s almost painful on my cock. Burning me, Heather. Your hot, wet pussy is burning me alive.”

She whimpered in protest as she felt him moving back then. Her hands gripped his arms; his fingers tightened on her nipples. Her eyes flew open, staring into his face again as he massaged the little peaks firmly. Fire bit at her nipples, agony resounded through her vagina as he drew back until once again only the head of his cock penetrated her.

His face was taut, his eyes blazing as he stared down at where his flesh met hers. “You’re so wet for me, Heather.” He sounded amazed, as though he had never expected her to need him as desperately as he needed her.

“Sam, please.” She arched to him, trying to press his cock deeper into the heated depths of her vagina. She was on fire, so achy, so desperate for an end to the incredible arousal that she felt like howling out her demand.

“Easy.” His hand pressed against her abdomen. “Easy, Heather, just lay there, baby. Just lay there and let me show you how much I’ve wanted this sweet little body of yours.”

He pressed in, grimacing as she stretched around him. Heather’s thighs trembled, ached as she fought to take him deeper, harder.

“Harder,” she whispered. “Harder now, Sam.”

“Shh baby.” His hand moved from her breasts, cupping her hips as he controlled the desperate thrusts against him. “Slow and easy, baby.”

He began to move inside her, long slow thrusts that pushed her apart, stretched her with exquisite patience. Her muscles protested the thick intrusion as much as they greeted it. Nerve endings she had never known she possessed screamed out in sensation.

She felt perspiration soak her flesh, felt her cunt spasm around his erection, spilling more of the slick juices that lubricated the tight channel for his invasion. Over and over. Not even giving her the full length, but torturing her with the half thrusts that pierced her vaginal tissue, pressing it apart, teasing her with the pleasure/pain, the threat of the hard brutal thrust that she knew she needed to send her over the edge.

And Heather wasn’t willing to be tortured. Months, agonizing arousing months of waiting were going to come to an end. Her heels locked around his lower back, giving her the purchase she needed to thrust herself onto the slow impalement.

She cried out as he sank to the hilt, a curse blistering from his lips as his hands tightened on her hips.