Wicked Burn

“What’s wrong, baby?” he rasped. Her pussy rippled and squeezed at his cock, making it throb and swell uncomfortably in her tight confines. Still, he drew on the last vestiges of his control and kept his hips immobile. “You’re not used to ass play, are you?” he asked, remembering how she’d reacted similarly even when he put just the tip of his finger into her snug little hole several weeks ago. Currently he’d pushed his entire thumb into a channel that already would have been tight without the added pressure of his near-to-bursting cock in her vagina pressing in on it.

She just shook her head. His lips formed into a snarl when she tightened around his thumb and cock at once.

“You’ve got such a hot little hole. You’re going to give it to me some day. Aren’t you, Niall?” he asked her in a lust-thick tone as he began to pulse in and out of her asshole at the same time that he rocked his cock a mere two inches back and forth in her pussy. Her gasp of pleasure echoed his peaking excitement. Her sleek vagina pulled on his cock with each outstroke like a sucking little mouth, making the thrust back into her exponentially more rewarding.

Christ, he’d never get enough of her pussy. You’re never going to get enough of her, period, a voice in his head taunted him.

“Answer me!” he said as desire clawed at him painfully, demanding its due.

“Yes,” she answered in a desperate, choked voice. “Everything I have is yours, Vic.”

He snarled in crazed lust. He grabbed both hips and began to pound into her. A growl of pure animalistic pleasure rose from his throat as he pumped her from tip to balls again and again, striking their flesh together in a fierce tempo. A continual wailing sound exuded from Niall’s throat, surging louder every time he smacked his pelvis against her ass. His arm muscles bunched tight, keeping her in place for his ramming cock.

The friction was taut, perfect . . . too fucking good to last for long.

When Niall screamed in release and her muscular walls began to convulse around him, he shifted his hand below one ass cheek and lifted. His subsequent slam into her giving flesh struck deeper than any of its predecessors.

His jaw vibrated as he roared and his body shuddered in the throes of a violent storm of pleasure.

Niall loved the feeling of Vic leaning down over her and holding her body to his while they both fought mightily to be the first to inhale the air that surrounded them. Eventually, however, her legs began to tremble slightly from Vic’s added weight and her own body’s desperate attempts to find balance after orgasm had shattered her equilibrium repeatedly.

Vic must have noticed her quivering, because he suddenly hugged her to him and brought her back with him as he collapsed to the floor. They laughed breathlessly as they fell in a heap of sweaty, intermingled limbs. When Niall tried to move off his big, long body, he used his hands to keep her in place.

“Let me go,” Niall insisted, laughing as she squirmed on top of him.

“You’re keeping me warm up there.”

She snorted. “I wasn’t put on this earth for the purpose of keeping you warm.”

He brushed his grin along the skin of her neck, making her shiver. “Maybe not, but I’m beginning to think you might have been put here for the express purpose of making me hotter than hell.”

Niall twisted around abruptly at the tone of his voice. His dark hair was adorably mussed. His light eyes sparkled with amusement. He looked younger than usual, less intense . . . wonderful.

Wonderful? Niall turned around and forced her body to relax along his length despite the tension that had just leapt into her muscles. She stared at the newly painted ceiling but saw nothing.

When she’d had that seemingly random thought just now, she hadn’t meant it in the everyday sense of the word. Not like I’m having a wonderful day today or The weather’s been wonderful, let’s go for a stroll. No, she’d meant it in the truest sense of the word—awesome, marvelous . . . astonishing.

Anxiety warred with amazement for her full attention. She’d never had this reaction to a man before, not even in the full, flush excitement of meeting and dating Stephen.

She blinked and forced her dazed vision to clear. Did a woman who carried so much emotional baggage really have the right to be harboring such feelings?

Or worse . . . what if it was because of her emotional and psychological stress that she was having such a powerful reaction to Vic in the first place? That was certainly possible, wasn’t it? Being with Vic might be the equivalent of a drinking or gambling compulsion . . . a shot of adrenaline and euphoria to an otherwise lifeless existence.

The charging train of her anxiety was derailed by the sensation of Vic hugging her more tightly to him with his encircling arms at the same time that he wrapped her up with his long legs until she was encapsulated in a divine cocoon of male muscle and vibrant heat.

“You’re so little.”

Her eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of his rumbling voice vibrating into her neck. “I’m five foot four.” She’d meant to sound defiant, but was too sexually sated and mentally confused to sound anything but dazed.

The smug sound in his throat made Niall think she’d just confirmed what he’d said.

“That’s average for a woman,” she insisted petulantly.

“Ummm.”

That was all. Nothing else.

“I can’t wait to see one of your plays,” she informed the ceiling.

“Why’s that?”

“Most actors talk on the stage, don’t they? With you as their creator, I’m wondering what your characters are going to do up there. Emote with stares?”