The Best Man (Alpha Men 2)

“You’re so tiny, tell me if it hurts.” Everybody was tiny next to him, but Daff appreciated his concern and, considering the size of him, was grateful now for the slow pace he had set. She sobbed slightly at the stretching fullness. He really was uncomfortably big. Sensing her uneasiness, he reached down and found her clit with his thumb. All thoughts of discomfort fled as her body blindly followed instinct and moved restlessly beneath his. He hissed in reaction when she thrust her hips against him.

“No, darling, don’t move. I don’t think I can—” She ignored him and pushed up even farther, grinding herself against his hand as she sheathed him almost completely. Spencer groaned, sounding almost pained, and swore shakily when she slid down, guiding the rhythm for now, before pushing back up to gain another inch.

Sweat beaded his brow and his eyes shut in concentration as he remained completely still, allowing her to set the pace. Daff widened her thighs even more and planted her feet flat on the mattress as she slowly slid down his hard length again. He moved his knees under her butt, giving her more control, while her shoulders remained flat on the bed. Her bum was on his lap and angled just enough to give her complete and unrestricted access to his penis. Using only her feet for leverage, she slid slowly up and down his shaft. His hands moved to her straining breasts, strumming her nipples, while his eyes slid back and forth between her face and the sight of his hardness sliding in and out of her softness.

“Spencer,” she whispered, one hand reaching up toward his face, and he lowered himself just enough for her to hook her palm around his neck and drag herself up until she was straddling his lap and her breasts were flattened against his chest.

“You feel so good,” she sobbed, loving this so much. Her other arm flung around his neck, and he buried his face in her neck. She felt him huffing for breath against her skin while his arms wrapped around her waist.

She wasn’t sure who was directing the pace anymore, and she didn’t really care. It was all give and take in this moment, and she felt his breath quickening against her.

“I can’t much longer, Daff,” he groaned. “Going to fucking come.”

“Good,” she huffed as she continued to rock against him. He felt wonderful inside her. Filled her completely. He belonged right there for all eternity. The thought scared her, but she shoved it aside as she focused on her building orgasm.

“Spencer,” she entreated, not sure why she was pleading with him when he was doing everything right. He yanked her closer with one strong arm while bracing his other hand on the mattress behind her. He maneuvered her until she was flat on her back and he was propped above her, and this time there was no mistaking who was in charge as he slammed into her. His face hovered above hers, his eyes entangled with hers. He was dripping with sweat, his biceps and shoulders bulging as he held his weight off her.

She grunted with each thrust, the sound guttural and in no way, shape, or form ladylike. There was nothing ladylike about her at all in this moment, and she didn’t care. This was primal, it was fierce, it was perfect.

Her legs drew up and wrapped around his taut, thrusting butt, and she felt everything inside her draw tight. His green eyes shone into hers, bright with emotion and gleaming with moisture.

“Come for me, Daff,” he whispered. His voice—the quietest thing in the room—was barely audible against the wet, slapping sounds of their lovemaking. And because he asked, she did. With a single high-pitched cry, she came. Hard. Endlessly and agonizingly. It was the most amazing thing that had ever happened to her, and she was glad, fiercely glad, that she was sharing it with Spencer.

She was still at the pinnacle when she felt him tense, groan, and then shudder in her arms, and they both floated down to earth together. He wrapped himself protectively around her, as if to shelter her from the world, and in his own quiet way made her feel safe and protected and cherished.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

She didn’t cry. She thought perhaps she was too wrung out to cry. She felt like crying, but she felt like laughing, too. She felt like running a mile or sleeping for days. She felt restless and contented. Wrong and right. Her emotions were jumbled up inside her, and it was both terrifying . . . and exhilarating.

All she knew for sure was that she felt safe in Spencer’s strong arms. Welcome and at home. It was a powerful and addictive feeling, and while she knew it should probably scare her, she didn’t really have the energy to worry about it now.