Inked in Lies (The Fallen Men 5)

“It’s perfect,” he said assuredly, even though I hadn’t handed him the mirror to confirm it. “Now, come here.”

He curled up, abs popping in his torso like stacked boxes, to cup my face and pull me in for a deep, wet kiss I felt in my toes. The chemistry that had lingered mostly dormant in the air flared to life around us like flame, licking up my thighs, settling in my core like banked coals.

Careful of his tender new tatt, I curled around him, hands in his hair fisting to pull him even closer.

I moaned around the hot slide of his tongue then gasped as his big palm slid down my spine, molding every vertebra before roughly grabbing my ass. He ground me against the swell of his cock, undulating my hip until I moved to his rhythm.

Something sparked inside me at that possessive, aggressive touch that sent the fire blazing even higher.

I fumbled as I reached down to undo Nova’s belt and jeans, sighing as his hot length fell into my hand, nearly scalding my skin it was so hot.

“Need you inside me,” I panted as I lifted just enough to notch his head at my already drenched entrance, pull aside my panties, and then impale myself on his thick shaft.

We both groan together, long and long in perfect harmony.

The feel of him deep inside of me was so invasive, so overwhelming in both size and beauty. It was a struggle to all of him, but I loved the stretch, the way my muscles melted around him after a few thundering heartbeats.

I loved that I felt every thick ridge and vein of him rub against my front wall on each inward thrust and that angled as I was with my hips canted back, my wet clit rubbing against the coarse hair on his groin, a rough, delish brush of sensation each time.

“Fuck, the sight’a you taken my cock like that,” Nova said as he clasped my hips and forced me to churn harder. “Alla that beauty takin’ my dick like you can’t get enough.”

One of his hands arrowed in from my hip over my pubic bone where his hand pressed firmly in a way that heightened the feel of him inside. His thumb dipped lower and stroked at my exposed clit.

I tossed my head back as I reared up, unlatching from his hair to score my nails over his shoulders.

“Fuck yeah, look at you,” he growled. “So fuckin’ gorgeous and all fuckin’ mine.”

I gasped as he built the fire higher at my clit. My hips bucked, the wet slide of his cock and the ragged pulls of our breath the only sounds in the shop.

“Look at me,” Nova demanded, reaching up to clasp my lower jaw in his hand. “Watch me as you take my cock. Gonna make you come so hard the sweet clasp’a your pussy’s gonna milk me dry.”

Heat seared down my spine and pooled between my legs as the wet slapped of our flesh increased.

I looked down at Nova, so beautiful even in the harsh artificial light. The crown of his hair was dampened with sweat, his pulse pounding at the side of his tattoo throat. I couldn’t stop looking at that long, strong column of flesh thinking about that heart that finally beat for me. So, I wrapped my own hand around it as his was wound around mine, just holding, not pressing, just to feel him alive and aching for me beneath my palm.

“My Lila,” he grunted as I ground down and spasmed around him, so close I could feel the ache in my womb as it clenched tight. “Wanna feel you drench my cock with your cum.”

His words razed through me like a forest fire, leaving my thoughts in ash, my inhibitions dust on the wind. I tipped my head to the ceiling as I cried out; pleasure tearing through me from my pussy, my belly, up my throat, so heavy and bursting, so all consuming I couldn’t contain it all within me so I shouted.

I shouted the name of the man who was all I’d ever wanted.

I shouted it like a victorious war cry because finally, after years of fighting for him, hoping for him, he was mine.

Nova jacked up to curl his other hand around my head and bring my lips to his. He ate my cry off his tongue with a hungry, heathen moan that illustrated just how triumphant he felt at making me his too. I felt the kick of his cock inside me and then the sudden flood of warmth as he claimed me with his cum.

His hands moved over me as I drifted slowly down from my climax, the way a coach might massage an athlete after a vigorous trail. I felt feline and soft under his strong pants, arching into his thumbs as they rubbed over my breasts firmly, easing the swollen tissue, then up over my shoulder, flexing gloriously into my hair.