Shattered (Extreme Risk 2)

“No!” I all but shout the word, my hands cupping his face as I drag his mouth back to mine.

He tastes amazing, like spearmint gum and pine trees and sweet, pure snow. He groans against my lips, and I take advantage, thrusting my tongue into his mouth. He explored me earlier, kissing me until my body was on fire and my brain felt like it was going to leak out my ears.

I want to do the same to him, want to take him apart so thoroughly that he’s as needy, as desperate, as I am. But I’ve barely licked my way into his mouth when he’s pulling away.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, terrified that I’ve done something wrong. Terrified that he’ll stop.

“Nothing. God, nothing, Tansy,” he gasps out as he pulls a series of shaky and shallow breaths into his lungs. His chest is heaving and the arm he brings up to rest against his forehead is shaking just a little. “I just can’t believe how hot you get me. I need a second or I’m going to lose it.”

Relief courses through me, along with need and joy and something else—something that feels an awful lot like triumph. I did this. I turned him on so much that he’s worried about coming in his jeans. Me, with all my scars and inexperience and insecurities. I did this to Ash.

Along with the relief comes the knowledge that I want him to lose it. I want to drive him straight to the edge and then throw him over, like he did to me last night. The pleasure he gave me—the utter, mind-numbing ecstasy of it—is not something I’m ever likely to forget. I want to share it with him, want to make him as crazy as he makes me.

I shimmy down his body then, unbuttoning his jeans and tugging at them until he gets the hint and lifts his hips. I yank them, and his red—yay!—boxers off, leave them crumpled in a heap on the floor. And then I stare at him, just stare at him. How can I not when he’s the most beautiful—and, if I’m being honest, the most intimidating—thing I’ve ever seen?

But Ash doesn’t give me time to freak out, doesn’t let me wonder for more than a second how on earth something that big is supposed to fit inside of me. Instead, he yanks down my own jeans, tosses them aside. And then he’s lifting me effortlessly, pulling me up until I’m straddling his face, my knees on either side of his head.

“What are you doing?” I squeak, reaching out to brace myself on the headboard. I’m horrified and fascinated and aroused all at the same time, and I squirm against his hands, not sure if I’m trying to get away or if I’m trying to get closer.

Ash smacks a hand against my ass, and though he does it softly, the feel of it rips through me, just as the sound rips through the silence of the room. “I’ve got you,” he mutters, his breath hot against my sex. “Let me take care of you.”

And then he’s there, licking through my folds, toying with my clit, eating me out in a way that is nothing—and everything—like what he did to me last night. The feelings coursing through me are the same, the pleasure and the desperation and the all-consuming need to keep him right here, against me, forever. But it’s different, too, spread out above him like this, his tongue delving deep inside me and setting me on fire from the inside out. It’s hot and sexy and intimate, so unbearably intimate, that I have to turn my head. Have to hide my face against my arm even as he slams me over the edge of an orgasm so intense I can barely think, barely breathe.

But Ash reaches up even as I’m coming, presses hot fingers against my chin. I follow his request blindly, turning my head until my eyes connect with his. I’m so drunk on pleasure that it’s hard to focus, but at the same time, I can’t look away. Not with his eyes so clear and hot and commanding on my own.

Then he’s rolling again, tucking me beneath his body as he brings his lips to mine. I can taste myself on his mouth and it’s strange and sexy at the same time. I thrust my hands through his hair when he would have pulled back, hold his mouth to mine in a kiss so deep that I don’t think I have any secrets left.

When he finally pulls away, when I finally let him go, Ash is nearly panting with need. I can feel him against me, hot and huge and hard—so hard—and for a second, panic sneaks through the pleasure still zinging inside of me.

Somehow, he senses it again, and he leans down for another kiss. “Are you sure this is okay?” he whispers against my lips. “We can still stop.”

I can’t imagine what it costs him to make that offer when he’s so obviously aroused. When he’s already gotten me off. “I don’t want to stop,” I tell him softly, skimming my lips over his perfect jaw. “I want you inside me.”

He groans then, shifts away.

I panic, clutch at him, but he just drops soft kisses on my hands as he reaches for his jeans. I’m confused, until I see him open his wallet, pull out a condom. Then I feel like an idiot. How could I possibly have forgotten? How could I have been so far gone that I’d forgotten the most basic rule?

Ash doesn’t give me much time to be embarrassed, though. He rips the condom open, slides it on under my fascinated gaze. And then he’s back, leaning over me, his arms braced on either side of my head.

“I can still stop,” he tells me softly, between kisses.

“Don’t you dare.” I tangle my legs with his, arch into his touch.

I feel him then, hot and hard and heavy against me. For a second, just a second, panic spurts through me, but then he’s petting me, his finger circling my clit and sending sparks of pleasure shooting through me even as he slides slowly, inexorably, inside of me.

Oh wow. Ohwow. Oh—

It hurts more than I thought it would, but it feels good, too, and I don’t know whether to squirm away or to push closer. It’s a decision that’s taken out of my hands, though, when Ash smooths his free hand through my hair. He presses soft kisses to my cheeks, to my mouth, murmurs all kinds of nonsense words and sounds that ma

ke no sense except that they comfort me. And arouse me all over again. I don’t know how he knows to do the things he does, don’t know why he’s so sweet, so tender, with me. I’m just grateful that he is, grateful that I picked him to be my first.

Eventually, the pain fades and I’m left with an impossible sense of fullness—and a desperate need to move. Ash is so attuned to me, is paying such close attention, that I know he feels the shift. Within seconds, he’s kissing me again, harder, deeper, licking inside my mouth. When my tongue tangles with his and my arms tighten around his neck, he finally starts to move. Slowly, carefully, gently, he rocks against me.

I’ve never felt anything like the pleasure he gives me then, never imagined it was even possible to feel so much. He moves so, so carefully at first, slow, gentle thrusts that slide him in and out of me in a soft, sweet rhythm that helps me relax even as it ratchets up the spiraling tension inside of me.

I clutch at Ash then, my fingers digging into his shoulders, my hips arching up to meet his. He groans, his thrusts getting faster, harder, more powerful, until all I can do is feel. Him above me, around me, inside me.

In those frantic moments, Ash is everywhere. He’s everything. And I love it. I love the way he holds me, love the way he touches me, love even more the way I’m melting into him. The way we’re melting into each other. It’s like nothing I could have imagined, and more than I ever would have asked for.