Twisted and Tied (Marshals 4)

“Don’t judge me. Did you actually look at the girl?” Eli asked, walking toward the bathroom, pausing to pet Chickie, who was passed out on the couch. “I know you can appreciate a beautiful woman.”

“Yeah, she’s hot, but c’mon, Eli, you’re not gonna date her.”

As I listened to them, I could feel my body start to cool down. It was the banter, the normalcy of them that did it.

“No, man, I’m gonna fuck her,” Eli clarified. “I need to get laid.”

“You should start being more serious about who you’re dating.”

“Have you lost your— Where are the tooth—”

“On the left-hand side,” Ian directed, levering off the refrigerator and walking over to me.

I really needed him to stay on the other side of the room. He was too much of a temptation, and I was like dry brush at the moment. The tiniest spark and I would combust. “Ian, I—”

He grabbed me roughly, twisted my right arm behind my back, took firm hold of my left shoulder, and shoved me back inside the pantry.

He pinned me face-first to the wall and held my head there, my cheek ground into the smooth, cool plaster as he used his left hand to get into my pants.

“What’re you—doing?” I gasped, jolting against him, pressing my ass back into him. “Eli’s still in the… the… the place where we are now.”

He rumbled in my ear, biting the lobe, breathing down the side of my neck as he worked my belt open, the button of my dress pants and then the zipper. His hand brushed over my hip before he wrapped it around my length and tugged.

I moaned his name.

His chuckle was sinister as he let go of my head, only to wrap that hand around my throat and tip my head so it fell back on his shoulder.

“Ian, I will have a debate about fucking versus dating with you tomorrow,” Eli cackled as he moved through the house, away from the kitchen. “In the meantime, I’ll call you later and let you know I’m not dead.”

“Good,” Ian yelled back.

“See ya later, Mirek,” Eli continued, and then I heard the door open and slam shut. Clearly he was in a hurry.

“The hell are you thinking?” I shuddered, reaching for him behind me.

“Stop moving,” he ordered, passing me a bottle of lube. “Hold this.”

“Where was this?”

“Under the sink,” he told me, shoving my pants to my knees.

“You’re always prepared,” I teased.

“I was an Army Ranger, and I’m a deputy US marshal,” he reminded me, bumping me as he got into his jeans, pushing them to his thighs before snatching the lube out of my hand and opening it with a click. “I’m ready for anything.”

“Ian,” I mewled, “please.”

He slid his slick fingers between my cheeks and then inside of me, ruthlessly, relentlessly, without pause, nothing slow or tentative about him at all.

“Ian!”

He was withdrawing, leaving me shivering and empty, but then I felt the head of his cock at my entrance. With the same inexorable push forward, he pressed inside me.

“Jesus Christ, Miro—every fuckin’ time, this feels amazing.”

The stretch, the way he opened me up, it hurt because there had been no prep, but he was stroking my cock, tugging, touching me roughly, fast and dirty like we were in a back alley, not our home, my skin catching on the hard calluses, making me buck into his fist, wanting more even as I ground back on his cock, driving him deeper.

“Fuck,” he growled, thrusting fast, the angle off because he had to pump up into me. He pulled out only to haul me to the floor, to my hands and knees.

One hand on the small of my back, he guided his cock back into my hole with the other and picked up his rhythm quickly, in and out, the brutal pace bringing me close to orgasm even without his hand on my dick.

“This is the second-best part of bein’ married,” he groaned loudly, decadently, pounding into me with abandon, holding on to my hips, using me just the way I wanted.

“And the best?” I managed to get out before my back bowed and I yelled his name, my orgasm rushing over me, drenching me in heat as my muscles clamped down around the length of him, holding tight.

He stayed still for only a moment.

“God, your ass,” he roared, hands on my shoulders, jerking me back into him as he rammed forward, shoving in deep and hard, leaving me no time to breathe between strokes.

It was an endless loop of pleasure so sharp, radiating through me, that I was left shuddering with the feel of him lodged inside.

I choked on his name, letting my head drop as he found his release, filling my ass with his thick, hot spill, collapsing on top of me, looping his arms under mine and around my shoulders so we were plastered together, his body molded to mine, chest to back.