Roan (The Henchmen MC 17)

He took a second to protect us before his body was covering mine, making my legs curl up around his waist as his hips shifted, sliding his cock up my cleft, making pleasure spark at the contact.

A breath later, he was buried inside me, making me arch up off the mattress at the perfect fullness, the way my body seemed to recognize that the sensation of him inside me was exactly what I needed.

He wasn't slow, sweet, controlled like he had been the night before, but thrusting into me hard, fast, rough, both our bodies slicking with sweat, our breath frantic, his growls and groans matching my whimpers and moans.

His arm suddenly slid under me, holding me to him as he threw himself onto his back, pulling me up onto him, my head buried in his neck.

"Up, sweetheart," he demanded, hands pushing at my shoulders, pushing me backward until I was sitting upright, straddling him.

There should have been something akin to insecurity or uncertainty flooding my system right about then.

But one look at Mikhail washed all that away, his gaze roaming over me like I was something special, something rare, something he wanted to commit to memory, making me feel precious, wanted, maybe a little loved even if it was maybe too soon to be using that word.

His hands moved over me, tracing my hip bone, up my ribs, under my breasts, brushing over my nipples, then back downward, settling at the jut of my hip and my upper thighs.

"Ride me, Mack," he demanded softly.

I wasn't one-hundred percent sure what I was expected to do. Not because there was anything unfamiliar to me about this. But, the fact of the matter was, movies and even a porn or two I had watched, had this going two different ways. Kind of gliding toward his stomach and back toward his knees, or up and down. And I had no idea which was was right per se.

"Like this?" I asked, not able to make eye-contact as my hips glided forward.

"Whatever feels good," he told me, fingers digging in when a low whimper escaped me as his cock brushed inside at just the right spot, creating a pressure that was also a pleasure somehow at the same time.

And once I felt that, well, there was no stopping me even if it wasn't what was 'right' or whatever.

All I knew was nothing had ever felt better as my hips moved harder, faster, as Mikhail started to gently thrust up inside me at the same time, a sensation that had my breath catching, my head getting fuzzy at the lack of oxygen as my orgasm held it hostage.

But, finally, I glided, he thrust, and the world simply melted away even as I found my voice enough to cry out his name as I fell forward, burying my head in his neck, riding out the waves as he kept thrusting, finding his own release with my name on his lips.

Like worship.

Like prayer.

We stayed there for who knew how long. Long enough for the sweat on my skin to dry, making me cold, causing Mikhail to anchor me to him as he rolled to his side, allowing him to grab the edge of the blankets, drag them mostly over my back as he warmed my front.

"We don't have to move yet, right?" I asked, wondering if, even if he said it was, I would be able to force my heavy limbs to follow orders.

His hand moved, brushing some of my hair back over my shoulder, down my back, then tracing a finger down the slope of my neck.

"No, we have time."

Right then, like the night before, there almost seemed to be a little sadness in his voice, something that made absolutely no sense to me because it felt like joy was leaping off of every nerve ending inside of me.

"Good," I told him, wedging my thigh between his so I could move closer, pressing a kiss to his jaw, earlobe, down his neck, down toward his clavicle and back to the other one, up the other side.

Against me, he was still, but not tense. His head shifted slightly when I needed more access, inviting more of the inspection, more of the affection.

I finished with a lingering kiss to his lips before pulling back, watching his eyes open, watching me like he was seeing me for the first time, like he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing, or was having trouble figuring me out.

"You smell good," I informed him when the intensity of his gaze started to unsettle me.

To that, his eyes went devilish. "Yeah?" he asked, suddenly tossing me onto my back, moving down my body. "Well, you taste better," he told me before his mouth closed around my clit, sucking in strobes that had anything close to thoughts completely impossible.