Twisted and Tied (Marshals 4)

“Oh please,” I moaned as I heard the cap of the lube flicked open.

He nuzzled his face into my hair and kissed the back of my neck, taking hold of my shaft and stroking from balls to head as I arched back into him. His hard, muscular thighs were against mine, his ridged stomach and broad chest on my back as he fumbled for a moment, slicking his cock, and I could hear it and smell the mint flavoring of the lubricant he’d purchased by accident last time and ended up liking.

He used the tee he’d been wearing under his dress shirt and wiped his hand on it, throwing it off the bed as he positioned himself against my hole and pressed slowly inside.

I cried out his name.

“I’ll take care of you,” he growled into my hair before he kissed the side of my neck and my cheek. “Turn your head.”

I twisted for him, and he lifted to kiss me at the same time he pulled me back, pushing deeper, the long, hard, hot length of him so very welcome as he seated himself fully.

“Miro,” he gasped, releasing my mouth, stroking in and easing out over and over, rolling his hips in a seamless, searing rhythm I ached for. “You’re alive, love, and I’ve got you, I’ll always be here… I’ll always have you. I’m your safety net. You can count on me.”

I could, I knew that. He was mine, my husband, my partner in all things, and the job didn’t matter, only life did, and for my life, there was Ian.

“Jesus, Miro, you feel so fuckin’ good.”

So did he.

I wanted more, craved more, and so tried to close the distance between us so he could piston inside, faster, harder, the burn of his entry, the stretch and fill, forcing out the cold, only his heat remaining.

“Miro, honey—you’re killing me. I’m trying to be—fuck—gentle.”

“Don’t need gentle,” I mewled, the ache in my voice making it crack and strain. “Need you all over me.”

Without hesitation he rolled me to my stomach and then lifted me roughly to my knees, rutting inside, hands on my shoulders so I couldn’t move.

“Ian,” I moaned, the domination, his power, making my whole body shudder as I clutched at the sheets and held on.

“You don’t belong to Craig Hartley, you understand?”

“Yes.”

“I know you’re hurt, but I won’t allow you to be lost, you understand?”

“Ian,” I whined as he bent over me, one arm around my chest, and lifted me up, back, back until I was impaled on his cock and he was pushing up into me.

“You belong to me. You’re mine, and no one and nothing comes between us, not ever.”

“Yes.”

Ian stroking my shaft with his rough, callused hand, his cock finding the spot inside of me, driving me wild, pumping mercilessly up into me, had me chanting his name in an endless litany.

“Look at you coming apart,” he said, the low, seductive chuckle sending new ripples of electricity dancing over my skin. “I think I see my boy coming back to life.”

And I was. I was there in my head, in my body, feeling everything, wanting desperately to be able to have as much of him as I wanted.

“What do you need?” Ian rumbled.

“You under me.”

Carefully he lifted me off the end of his dick and then toppled over beside me, down onto the bed, rolling to his back. I pounced on him, straddling his thighs, and he took hold of his cock as I sank down over him, slowly but steadily until all of him was buried inside of me.

“Ride me.”

I wasn’t gentle, and he bowed up off the bed as I ground down onto him, over and over, taking what I needed until I pushed Ian to his limit and he manhandled me to my back, curled over me, lifted my legs over his shoulders, and stuffed me full, thrusting as hard as he could.

My muscles clenched around him as I came, and he was seconds behind, my name crawling out of his throat in a husky roar.

We were slick with sweat, panting, and Ian was still above me, still pushing in, still coming until he collapsed down into my arms, utterly spent.

I rubbed his damp hair, turned and kissed his cheek, and then lifted his head so I could see his face. Always, how dark his eyes got made me smile.

“I want you here with me.”

“I am,” I sighed.

“You have to talk to me all the time.”

I grinned. “You telling me that I hafta talk is kinda funny.”

“Just—do what you’re told, all right? Don’t be such a smartass.”

“Yes, dear,” I said playfully, easing him down for a kiss.

“You two better be done gettin’ your freak on up there because some people around here have husbands and daughters to feed!”

Ian ended the kiss and yelled down at her to keep her panties on.