The Wrong Man (Alpha Men 3)

His hand moved between their bodies and tugged her soaked panties aside before he pushed into her with a grunt. His mouth was on hers again and his other hand at her breasts, devoting equal time to each aching peak. He was thrusting urgently, and Lia sighed with each powerful retreat and advance of his shaft.

“Fuck!” he swore and quite abruptly dragged himself all the way out of her clutching channel. She cried out in protest. “Sorry. Fuck. No condom.”

He tugged at one of her ankles, and she reluctantly loosened her grip on his butt and allowed her legs to slide down to the ground until she stood wobbling in front of him. She couldn’t see him at all in the dark barn, but she heard the fabric of his tuxedo rustling as he fumbled around, searching for a condom. He made a satisfied sound and she heard the crinkle of the little foil package being ripped open.

“Turn around, princess,” he instructed her, and she turned blindly. He ran his hands down her arms until he found her wrists. He took gentle hold of them and lifted her hands until she felt the rough wood of the fence under her fingertips. “Hold on.”

Once again she did as he instructed, folding her fingers over the top of the fence, her breasts spilling over the top of the gaping dress, and Lia was grateful for the dark that hid her brazen display from his greedy gaze.

His hands trailed down her naked back and over her rump, curling into the material of her skirt, which he dragged up until she could feel only air on her exposed behind, cooling the wet heat between her thighs. His fingers found her, once again moving the lacy scrap of underwear aside, and tested her receptiveness, easing gently in and out, getting her back into the swing of things. Lia gasped when his thumb came into play, teasing her clitoris with sure strokes. She was on the verge of another orgasm when he replaced his fingers with something much bigger and harder and she cried out helplessly, her legs nearly giving way and forcing her to hang onto the fence for dear life.

His large hands were at her hips, holding her steady while he continued to plunder her most tender flesh. When she pushed into his thrusts, he released her hips and his hands found her naked breasts, plucking at the tender nipples.

Lia groaned helplessly as her orgasm built until she came with a high-pitched cry. He continued to thrust into her, forcing another, gentler climax fast on the heels of the first, and still he continued. Lia was so unbearably sensitive by now that she almost begged him to stop, but when he lowered his hand down her to clitoris again, and buried his face in her neck to suck on the highly sensitive skin beneath her ear, she came again. Even harder and longer than the first time.

This time he groaned as she clenched tightly around him. When she loosened her death grip on the fence, lifting a trembling hand to cup his stubbled jaw, he made a surprised sound and slammed into her so hard she almost crashed into the fence. Luckily she braced before that happened, but he pushed her up against the wood anyway, until she could feel each individual slat grinding up against her torso and abdomen. He had his arm wrapped around her breasts, to protect her tender, naked skin from the wood, and she went up on tiptoes and then left the ground completely as his next couple of powerful thrusts completely overwhelmed her.

She felt him shudder, then sob and finally groan, the sound almost anguished as he held her suspended between the fence and his hard body for what felt like eons, her feet not touching the ground at all anymore. Eventually she felt the tension leave his body, while the shudders and hoarse breathing continued unabated for much longer. He eased her down until her toes and then the soles of her feet were back on the ground. He scrupulously adjusted her skirt, not saying a word, just dusting her off and zipping her up. He couldn’t refasten the broken hook and eye, but her hair—which had been up in a chignon before this—had come completely undone and spilled halfway down her back, effectively shielding the broken clasp from view.

She ran her shaking hands through the tangled mess of her hair and then dabbed self-consciously at her damp cheeks. The first release had been so intense it had brought tears to her eyes, despite there being no actual emotional connection between them. Luckily the floodgates had closed almost as soon as the orgasm had waned, but she was almost certain she had raccoon eyes. She would have to make a quick detour back to the house and to her room to fix the damage as much as she could. She only hoped nobody else was in the house.