Bad Intentions (Bad Love 2)

“Oh my God, Dare,” she whines, slowing her movements at the added sensation. “I can’t move. I can’t.” Her voice is desperate, legs locked tight. Barely breaking our connection, I throw her to the couch, my mouth on her clit, one hand sliding up her stomach, a finger from the other hand pressing against her ass. I don’t push inside yet, just rubbing, probing.

Lo presses against my finger, and she moans loudly, her back lifting from the couch, so I do it again before I flatten my palm against her sternum. I slide my hand up to curl my fingers around her throat, testing her reaction.

“Harder,” she demands, wrapping a hand around my wrist as her legs start to shake. I apply more pressure as I slip my middle finger inside her tight ring and suck her clit into my mouth.

“I want to fuck this soon.”

I only pump my finger once, twice, three times before she cries out, “Fuck!” Her legs lock up, and her mouth parts in a silent scream as she breaks apart.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Still gripping her throat, my thumb glides across her bottom lip before dipping inside her mouth. Her lips automatically close around it, giving it a little suck. I’m so fucking hard. It’s a miracle I haven’t fucked her yet, but seeing that was worth it.

Her body starts to relax, her legs falling limply to the side. I pull my finger from her body, pin her thighs flat to the couch and give her soft licks with the flat of my tongue as she comes down from her orgasm. Her chest heaves as I sit back on my heels, tearing off my shirt and taking my cock out. I take her by surprise when I hook my hands under her knees and jerk her toward me before guiding my dick inside her.

“I’m not done yet.” Fucking her spent, boneless body after I’ve made her come is quickly becoming my favorite pastime.

I fold her legs around my back and scoop her up, staying inside her as I walk up the stairs to my room. She tucks her head between my shoulder and my neck, nipping at my throat while each step has her bouncing on my cock.

Once we’re in my room, Lo squeals as I practically throw her off my dick and onto my bed. I shove my sweatpants down my legs, and her eyes are hungry as she takes me in.

“Turn around.”

She doesn’t ask for clarification. She moves onto her elbows and knees, sliding her hands forward until only her chest hits the bed, ass in the air. If I had my phone near me, I’d take a picture to remember this ass forever. Burning it into my brain will have to do.

I slap two palms against her cheeks before squeezing hard. I dip my head down to bite one side, then the other. She moans low and desperate as I knead and spread her cheeks. When I lean forward, giving her a long lick from clit to backside, she collapses onto the bed, one side of her face mashed into my black sheets.

“Get back here,” I say, grabbing her hips and angling her ass toward the sky while the rest of her body lies flat on the bed. I eat her like this, thighs touching, sliding my tongue between her lips before I pull back and straddle her thighs.

“Hold yourself open for me,” I say, and she complies, hair in her face, mouth parted as she spreads herself with both hands. I fist my length, guiding it to her entrance, dragging it through her wetness a few times before finally pushing inside.

“Oh fuck.” I thrust forward, keeping my hips flush against her ass. This position is going to kill me. If I could live in this pussy, I would. I start to move, and Lo presses back into me, her moans muffled by my mattress. I reach around to rub her clit, and she pulses around me almost instantly.

“Did you just come again?”

Lo looks at me over her shoulder and nods. Clutching her chin between my fingers, I lean forward and kiss her hard and deep. I’m not going to last long. Not when it’s like this.

When I pull back, my cock is coated with her cum. My balls tighten, and the sight of her pussy contracting back to normal, having been temporarily stretched by me, throws me into my orgasm. Lo still holds herself open, and I jerk myself hard, coming all over both her holes.

I slump forward on the bed next to her. There are no words, no movements, nothing besides our harsh breathing. Her hair sticks to her damp, rosy cheeks, and I reach over to tuck it behind her ear.

“Big mistake,” I say, tracing my fingers along her ear, jaw, neck, shoulder…she shivers at my touch, eyes at half-mast. I skim down her back, and she arches prettily once I get to the

dip in her spine. I slip my fingers between her legs, sliding them through the mess we made. She gives a soft moan.

“Huge.”

* * *

THIS IS BAD. THE THOUGHT plays on a loop in my brain. Dare stood up for me. He defended me. He took me home to protect me. Then he fucked me like a god. It’s starting to feel like…more.

I step out of Dare’s steaming shower and wrap myself in the white towel he hung for me. After fucking me into oblivion, I declared that I needed a shower. I was covered in sex and tears and sweat, and I needed to wash today off me. I spot a pile of clothes that Dare left on the granite sink.

This house is as much of a mystery as the man himself. It’s a gorgeous home, but there’s nothing personal anywhere, except for a set of three black and white pine trees framed above his simple king-sized bed.

I pull the shirt over my head—this time black—and a pair of boxer briefs over my hips. Combing my fingers through my hair, I look at my reflection. My cheeks are flushed, lips swollen, but my eyes look tired. I open the door and pad across the hardwood floor of Dare’s bedroom, not stopping until I reach the edge of the bed where he sits in those gray sweats, no shirt, tattooed torso on display.

Dare slides a hand up the back of my calf to my bent knee and presses his forehead against my thigh. The gesture feels decidedly intimate, and I wonder if maybe something is shifting for him, too. Tentatively, I run my hand through his hair, and he leans into my touch.

“Let’s sleep,” he mumbles, leaning back to lie down on his pillow, crossing his arms behind his head. I don’t argue about sleeping in his bed. That would be weird, considering he now knows parts of my body better than I do. I crawl into his bed, lying on my side to face him. His profile is illuminated by soft light coming from the lamp on his nightstand—sharp jaw, stubble on his cheeks, lips pressed in a hard line.