Vanquish (Deliver 2)

It happened so damned fast, locking her muscles and pinching her breaths. He watched helplessly, gripping the back of his neck. He could take her inside—avoidance. Or he could try something else—distraction.

He rolled her to her back and blanketed her body with his, bracing his legs and arms on the outside of hers, caging her in, knowing the coolness of the grass would soothe the lashes. “No one can see you. Look. You're completely covered beneath me.” Not that a soul would dare step foot on his land. The Fuck Off signs he'd posted had been anything but welcoming.

She grabbed at his ribs with rigid fingers and pulled him closer, rooting her body into the core of his while fighting for breath. Fuck him, but he wanted to be her security, her anchor, her fucking everything. Not as her captor but as her lover.

As she burrowed deeper beneath him, her fingers stumbled against the waistband of his jeans. Maybe it was accidental, but she didn't jerk them away, rather they inched inward along his tightening abs.

A heady rush of exhilaration connected his spinning emotions to his groin. His cock, instantly hard and hungry, strained against the zipper. He ground the aching thing into the dip of her clenched thighs, and she responded in kind, bucking and gasping as her fingernails dug into his stomach.

His heart raced. He wasn't alone in these feelings. She needed him as much as he needed her, physically as much as emotionally.

He ducked his head and captured her mouth, kissing her deeply and thoroughly. She met him, her tongue sliding against his, but her breathing didn't slow its sharp, shallow rhythm.

The grass was cold and damp beneath his forearms where they bracketed her head. He ran his hands through her hair and gathered the thick mass, using it to hold her still while he plunged his tongue between her sweet lips.

The panic hadn't fully tapered, evidenced in the heave of her chest and the jerking of her body against him. She kept her elbows tucked in and her shoulders curled between his as if she truly believed he was shielding her from her biggest fear.

He strengthened the kiss, fucking her mouth with his tongue, stealing her breaths and, hopefully, the noise in her head. The earthy scent of soil and the musk of their mingled sweat bathed his inhalations as he chased her tongue, pinning it and releasing it in a sensual dance.

As her breathing slowed from anxious to aroused, he wedged a hand between their bodies, caressing her belly and lifting his hips to glide lower. When he reached the hood of her clit, he watched with awe as her eyes closed and her chin rose, exposing her neck.

Warmth sifted through him, lifting his broken soul to the surface. Where was the temptation to jump on that vulnerable throat and crush it with a ruthless hand? He wanted to own her, but not if it scarred her. She was his weakness, and with a confidence that punctuated every revelation he'd come to accept since he'd taken her, there wasn't a damned thing he'd do to change it.

Stretching his fingers to slide along her slit, he inhaled her heavy exhale, taking in the minty scent of toothpaste. Each twitch in her body sizzled along his nerve-endings, and his cock throbbed to shove itself inside her hot little cunt.

When his fingers furrowed through her damp flesh, she tensed. He removed his hand and touched her cheek, drawing her eyes to his. As she focused on him, her mouth parted and her expression gentled, but he could see the memory of him raping her straining that sensual, seductive-looking gaze.

Guilt, intense and agonizing, shredded his insides. His stomach hardened, and he dropped his forehead to hers. He'd fucked up when he'd forced himself on her, scaring her in a way he wished he could take back. “I'm sorry.”

Whatever she heard in his voice, perhaps the reedy vulnerability in his otherwise controlled tone, brought her hands out from beneath him to grip his jaw and guide his face into the light.

She stared up at him for a long, terrifying moment, her eyes searching, her lips rolling together. Then her fingers moved to his temples, combing through the hair over his ears, tenderly, lovingly, in a way he didn't deserve. Her gaze didn't waver from his as she swallowed. “I will never forget. But maybe someday, I might be able to forgive.”

A surge of emotion pulled at his jaw and gathered in his throat. “I don’t deserve forgiveness.”

She tugged on his ears, drawing his mouth to hers, and gave him her assurance in a kiss. He answered it, furiously and passionately, as a fire swept over his skin. Their mouths slid together for a blissful forever, exploring and learning, giving and taking, and still, it wasn't enough.

With her thighs imprisoned between his legs, her chest safely covered by the width of his torso, she seemed stable. Relaxed even. Her hands and arms had returned to their tucked concealment between their bodies, which put her fingers at the perfect position to bump against the swollen bulge in his jeans.

Given all the kissing and foreplay, she had to know where this was leading. Without releasing her mouth, he slipped a hand over her silky abs, sliding downward to the heat of her cunt. She didn't flinch. In fact, her kisses grew hungrier, breathier. Her nipples hardened, dragging against his chest.

A testing reach just inside the folds of her pussy soaked his finger. He pulled back his hand and brushed the hair from her face with steady fingers while his insides shook with profane need. His cock jumped, so fucking painful in its bent position it slammed his teeth together. His whole body seemed to know she was ready. As badly as he wanted to tug himself out and shove inside her, he couldn't.

He should ask first and heed her answer. Fuck, had he ever done such a thing? And open himself to rejection? Hell no. His jaw stiffened.

But if she didn't say ‘No,’ if she accepted him into her body through a will of her own, it would invite trust and maybe a deeper connection.

Which could expose him to a different kind of pain, a hurt far worse than Liv's bullet in his shoulder.

He stroked her cheek, her chin, and her waiting lips. “I want to fuck you, Amber. But I won't take you again without permission.” And there hovered the most frightening thing he'd ever uttered. What if she never gave him permission?

She stared into his eyes, her mouth squeezed shut as if to trap the noisy breaths flaring her nostrils. Christ, the wait was torturous. Her rejection scared him as much as he had scared her. Then she spoke. “I need you inside of me.”

He stilled as her words pinged through him like raindrops striking tin. Steady rain on a rusted tin roof, with his doll safe and unbroken in his lap, his mother sitting beside him, a warm breeze lifting her hair and brushing it against his face. And maybe she patted his leg as if she wasn't bothered by his company. Yeah. Amber's words were as consoling as that, his single happy memory.

He stared back at her, wanting to ask if she was sure and not daring enough to open his mouth. But her expression said it all. Firm eye contact, a soft blush, and parting lips that built into a gentle smile.

With shaky fingers, he fumbled for his buckle, loosening it and tackling the button, the zipper. His breaths caught, impatient and awkward. Holding his body over hers to maintain her veil of security, he tugged a condom from his pocket and rolled it on.

His cock jutted out, hard and ready, nudging the valley of her thighs. The position of her legs, pressed together between his, would limit his thrusts. He didn't care. He wanted to fuck her right there, outside, knowing he would love it, that she would, too.

He pressed the swollen head against her slick pussy, leaned down, and thrust his hips forward, slamming into her tight body. The hot flesh of her sheath rippled around him, squeezing, welcoming, fucking consuming him. His head fell back on his shoulders, a moan sighing from his gaping mouth.

Ah God, nothing was grotesque about her cunt. Its pretty shape, its gripping strength, there was no place he'd rather be.

He stroked in and out, her velvety warmth sucking and releasing him, shooting sparks of electricity over his skin. She flexed her hips upwards to meet his thrusts, pulling a groan from deep inside him.

His hand cupped the fullness of her breast, his palm rollin

g over the hard bud of her nipple. Too soon, his release rushed forward. He held it off, angling his pelvis to grind against her clit. With a few hard rotations, her breathing changed, growing faster, more shallow.

She didn't cry out as the climax took her, but he felt it throb around his cock, tightening every muscle in her body. Her fingernails scratched at his ribs. Her heels scraped through the grass between his feet.

His overwhelming satisfaction burst into exploding ecstasy. He ejaculated so hard and long stars invaded his vision. He might've thought he died if not for the kisses she peppered over his chest, grounding him.

He couldn't speak, couldn't breathe, couldn't move. When he finally found his voice, he stuttered with stupidity. “I can't even...that was...”

“What mutual pleasure feels like?” Her voice was husky. And bratty.

He sank his teeth into her shoulder, not to break skin but hard enough to leave a pretty bruise.

She screeched and writhed beneath him until he let go. “What was that for?” Her gaze was wide and shiny, glaring up at him, but a smile twinkled at the edges.

“For being a brat.” He grinned, floating on a cloud of lingering bliss, and rolled off to free her of his weight and remove the condom.