“Me either.”
“I’ve never been bare like that with anyone before,” he said.
“Me either.” I wasn’t sure how I was still awake, but the thoughts kept rolling off my tongue unbidden. “I really liked it.”
“I do too. But the next time it’d have to be a decision we both make.”
“I agree.”
“For now, just sleep.”
“Okay.”
“Thank you for staying.”
He held me tighter. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”
“Except inside me.”
“Don’t tease.”
“’Kay.”
I felt sleep pulling me under, then.
12
I woke first to the smell of coffee, then the sound of the maker burbling and chuffing, and then to the bed dipping as he slid back in under the covers. He was warm, naked. He pressed up against me, chest to my back, hips to my buttocks, arm over my shoulders.
I just breathed at first, absorbed the warmth of him, the heart-swelling pulse of his presence behind me. Him being here, with me, in my bed…it filled me with a hot, nameless, expansive emotion. Something that cracked open the cold nave of my heart, seeped in, found the corners and shadows and emptiness and filled me, heated, lit me up.
I was safe with him.
It was too soon to feel this, but there it was.
He just lay behind me, holding me, breathing softly and slowly. I don’t think he realized I was awake. The coffeemaker chugged and gurgled in the kitchen, filling my condo with the scent of brewing coffee.
He wasn’t erect. Just nestled, soft and warm and squishy, against my backside.
I wanted him. I wanted to feel him harden in my hands. I wanted his kisses on my lips, his hands on my body. I wanted that hot bare slide of his massive cock inside me, the slow build of orgasm as we moved together. I wanted to feel his explosion, feel him hold me, take me. I wanted him to use my body for his pleasure. I wanted to lay in this bed with him in the afterglow and be cuddled by him and talk about anything and everything and nothing.
I rolled to face him, and we were nose to nose. His lips curled in a smile, and his eyes opened. “Hi,” I whispered.
“Hey, you.”
“You made coffee.”
“I did.”
“And you’re still here.”
“I am. I told you I would be.”
“I know. And I believed you.” I couldn’t help myself—I just had to taste his skin. I nipped at his chin, then the tender skin over his cheekbone. “I just really like this, waking up with you, naked, in my bed.”
“If there’s anything better in life than waking up to you, it’s getting up to make coffee and getting to get back in bed with you. To feel this sexy naked body.”
I nibbled his lower lip. “There’s just a tiny little problem.”
His brow pinched. “There is? What?”
I reached between us and cupped his flaccid member and the heavy soft balls below. “You’re not hard.”
He growled a laugh. “Oh, keep your hand right there for another twenty seconds, and I will be.”
“Twenty seconds, huh?” I started counting. “One potato…two potato…three potato…”
“Potato? I always counted one-one-thousand.”
“Boring. One-potato is more fun, and easier to say.” I circled two fingers around his sex. “Now, where was I? Oh, right. Three-potato, four potato…”
Slid my touch down, and back up. I massaged his sac with my other hand, squeezing gently, kneading, pressing my fingers into the soft tenderness of the flesh just behind his balls where they joined his body. He was hardening, and quickly.
“God, Autumn. Can you just…touch me, just like that, forever? I don’t even need to come, I just want to feel your hands on me.”
“That works for me,” I said. “I kinda love the way you feel in my hands. I love feeling you get hard like this.”
Holy shit, I’d used the L-word. Was I there? I hadn’t said it to him, but still. If he’d noticed, he didn’t let on.
He was thick, now. I felt him stiffen and lengthen in my fist, began to stroke him with slow soft measured movements, plumping him to full erection. I didn’t even get to eighteen before he was fully hard in my hands.
I leaned over the side of my bed, opened the bottom drawer of my nightstand, pulled out a new box of condoms I’d recently put in there—you know, just in case I happened to need them. Can’t be too careful, right? I freed a condom, opened it, tossed the wrapper aside, and sheathed him in the latex.
Threw my thigh over his, straddling him. Brought him to my seam.
“I want you,” I whispered. “I want this.” I grasped him tighter, touched the springy tip of him to my seam. Dragged him against the slit, back and forth. “No excuses, no doubts, no holding back.”
He groaned, and his hand cupped my breast. “This is too incredible to be real. How are you real?”
I kept sliding him back and forth against me, and then notched the tip of him inside my damp nether lips. Circled him there, teasing us both.
“Fuck, Autumn.”
“Okay,” I breathed, and surged against him, taking him within me.
He groaned, a long, drawn-out snarl, and his fingers clawed into the flesh over my hip and then scraped back to clutch at my ass, pulling me harder against him, and his other hand stabbed into my hair, knotted at the base of my scalp and crushed his lips against mine.
His kiss was both savage and delicate at once.
I met his ferocity with my own, pulling my hips backward and slamming against him, biting his lower lip hard enough that he snarled and yanked his mouth away, shocked.
“Why you little wildcat,” he murmured.
“Rrrrow,” I meowed, more house cat than vicious predator, but it was the best I could do with his massive hot throbbing cock inside me, stealing my breath and making me dizzy with ecstasy.
He rolled over top of me, caught both my hands in his and lifted them over my head, pinioning them both together in one of his huge iron paws. “Now you’re gonna get it,” he growled. “Bit me so hard my lip is bleeding.”
I had, as a matter of fact. I lifted up and kissed the wounded lip, and then flopped back down. Pretended to wriggle against his hold. “Let me go, you big brute.” My breathless laugh ruined any thought of that being serious, however.
He knelt over me, pulled me to one side, using some kind of wrestling leverage to hold me so my buttock was lifted and bared, and used his free hand to smack me, hard enough that I yelped. “No biting.”
“No biting?” I echoed, plaintive.
He let me back down, keeping his grip on my wrists, and nipped at my lip. “Not so hard. I’m delicate.”
I cackled at that. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so rough. You’d better punish me.”
His eyes were heated, jaw clenched and flexing. “You want to be punished?”
“Yeah,” I breathed. “Hard.”
He feathered a slow gentle thrust into me. “Like that?”
“Like what?” I teased. “I didn’t feel anything.”
He thrust harder. “How about that?”
“Mmm, nuh-uh. Better try again.” I licked at his jaw, his chin. “I’m feeling bite-y again. You’d better punish me good before I lose control and take another chunk out of you.”
He shook with laughter even as he pushed into me again, this time with enough force to draw a groan from me. “You’re making me laugh during sex, Autumn. That’s another hell of a first.”
“Who’s laughing? Not me. I’m for real about to bite you again.”
He began a slow rhythm—slow, but each thrust was hard, forceful, slamming into me and then drawing out again with deliciously exaggerated slowness. “How about this—you bite, I bite back.”
I giggled—a sound from myself I barely recognized. “Fine by me.” And then I bit his chin, not hard but enough that he felt it, and then the thin skin over his Adam’s app
le, and then finally his broad thick shoulder, and there I did bite hard.
He growled, a deep threatening sound, until I finally let go, and then I licked and kissed the dimpled, reddened flesh where my teeth had left indentations.
“Warned ya.”
He kissed me, my temple, my forehead, my cheek, the corner of my lips. Kissing, kissing, he nibbled his way down my throat, across from one shoulder to the other, down my breastbone, between my breasts—all without losing the rhythm of his thrusts. His nibbling kisses raked over my breast, the left then the right, over the top of the swell and slope, then the undersides one and the other. And then he kissed my nipple, flicked it with his tongue…
No, oh shit—
And bit.
Hard enough to make me squeal in shock. I couldn’t pull away, had nowhere to go, pinned beneath his bulk, but it was too late, he was already teasing and toying with my other nipple, drawing out the moment I knew was coming.
“Seven, okay, truce…” I gasped, laughing in anticipation of his bite. “Don’t bite, don’t—my nipples are super sensitive—OW! You bastard, that hurt!”
“You bite, I bite,” he growled.
“Okay, okay,” I breathed, “No biting.”
He just laughed. “Hey, I’m okay with biting. You have yummy nipples.”
He was moving, moving, thrusting in hard and pulling out slow, and now the humor was bleeding away as his thrusts pushed me to the edge and my delirious helplessness beneath him and his grip on my hands made the swelling pulse of heat in my core burst hotter and expand and begin to detonate.
“Oh god, Seven, I’m getting close. I’m so close.” I writhed, needing more. “I need to…”
“You need what, baby?” he murmured, nuzzling his nose against my cheek, then ghosting a kiss against my lips. “Tell me what you need, baby.”
“I need to come. I need to touch myself.”
“No.” He adjusted so his weight was braced on our joined hands, over my head. “That’s my job now.”
His fingers slid between us, and he pulled his stomach up and backward to make room for his hands and kept thrusting into me in the same hard-soft/fast-slow rhythm that was gradually but surely driving me insane, pushing me to the edge of a climax so potent I just knew it was going to rip me into pieces and leave me in a puddle. He touched me, then, rough fingertips grazing my clit in soft circles—I cried out, spasming involuntarily up against him.
“Fuck, you’re sensitive.”
“So close, so close. Don’t stop, Seven. Keep doing that, just—oh fuck—just like that.”
And to his credit, he listened. The rhythm of his cock within me and the delicate brush of his fingertips against my clit held constant, and I gave in utterly to it. I let myself scream, let myself writhe against him. I wanted loose, I wanted to clutch at him and touch him and bite him. Instead, he had me where he wanted me and he wasn’t letting go and he somehow knew I needed this, needed to have something unbreakable to smash against.
I thrashed in the hold of his strong hands, and I bucked against his bulk, pushing into his thrusts which did not change. I was a wildling, then, screaming as the climax bashed through me like an inferno, and I felt myself exploding, felt myself melting.
I felt my soul open up.
Felt my heart crack open, and felt all that was Seven St. John fill the spaces and overflow, felt him light up the darkness with his primal ferocity and rugged tenderness.
I came.
My thighs locked around his waist, clenched with vise-grip strength around him and I rode him from beneath, thrashed at his grip until I got a hand loose. I used that one free hand to claw at the back of his head, yanking his mouth down to mine to claim a kiss, and then as our mouths fused and our tongues tangled, that same free hand traveled downward between our bucking, thrashing bodies and I found him where we joined, and as he pulled away I circled his root with my fingers and worked him with a tight plunging grip even as he thrust into me harder and harder, faster and faster.
“Oh—holy fuck, Autumn, what are you doing to me? Oh Jesus, oh god, I—oh god, you’re gonna make me come so hard doing that, Autumn.” His snarling voice was a helpless guttural gasp as I stroked his base through the rhythm of his thrusts.
I felt him throb between my fingers. “Give it to me, Seven. I want it all,” I breathed between kisses, around his words.
He became savage, then, nipping at my lips and slamming his hips into mine, huge pulsing cock plunging between the circle of my squeezing fingers. His hands now circled my waist, and he leaned backward, lifting up on his knees and dragging me against him, holding me up and slamming into me, harder and harder. I still had him by the root, and I worked him as fast as I could, my knuckles against his hard belly.
“Ahhh god, Autumn, oh fuck—” he was gasping, nearly incoherent.
“Please, Seven,” I pleaded, “please come. Please—I want it. Come for me.”
“Come with me, then,” he growled.
Somehow, my body obeyed him. As if his words had some kind of magical power over my climax, I felt myself responding to his even more manic thrusts, or maybe it was the angle, the way his shaft scraped against me and the way the fat plunging head of him thrust within me, touching me off in the just the right place, and I felt myself rising, rising.
He was feral, then, his face a twisted mask of glorious pleasure, eyes narrowed and focused utterly on me, on the bounce and sway of my breasts as they jounced under the force of his thrusts, on every expression of my face as I flew hurtling and gasping toward the edge of orgasm with him. His thrusts were wild, hard and fierce and so beautiful, so perfect.
“Yes, Seven, god yes.” I flew apart against him yet again, and I felt him losing the edge, losing the battle to prolong this exquisite uniting of body and soul.
He groaned, a broken sound, and let me go, fell forward on top of me. I had to let go as well, and my hands went to his head, petting through his hair and raking delicately over the shaved sides of his scalp to cup his nape and the back of his head, and my thighs were locked around his waist and my feet hooked toes over ankle at his tensed and flexing buttocks. His huge weight pinned me, and I relished the crush of him against me, I buried my nose in the hollow of his jaw where it met his ear.
“Autumn,” he breathed, a shattered whisper.
“Yes, Seven. Yes. Yes. Yes.”
“I—oh god, I—” He was frantic, then, writhing against me, gasping hoarsely.
“What, Seven?” I palmed his ass in both hands and pulled him against me, urging him on, my feet now hooked at the back of his thighs. “Say it.” I heard something unspoken in his gasps, his trailed-off heaving breath. “Say it, Seven.”
He curled upward, drawing himself together and growling, and his forehead touched mine. “Autumn, I—oh fuck oh fuck—I think I love you, Autumn…”
And then he exploded inside me. I felt it, felt the throb, the tense of his every muscle and fiber, and then the surge of him deeper, until our hips crashed against each other and he strained to go deeper and he was growling wordlessly and I was sobbing, coming with him exactly then, coming as he came, and I felt the rush of his orgasm. It was endless, his thrusts stuttering as he groaned through it, and I was clenching around him, squeezing him with my own climax, and I was crying with him, crying out as he groaned, whispering his name as he chanted mine.
Finally, eventually, his movements stilled, as did mine, and we were gasping together. I pet him as he fought for breath on top of me. I caressed his head, his neck, his broad shoulders and wide back, his buttocks.
I kissed the shell of his ear. “I think I love you too.”
He shuddered at my words. “It wasn’t just the orgasm that made me say that.”
“I know.”
“You do?”
“Yes.”
“No, I meant, you do, like, you…feel…”
I laughed. “Harder to say now, isn’t it?”
“Is that stupid?”
“No
. Or if it is, it’s the same for me.” I kissed his temple, his jaw. “I can’t stop kissing you.”
“Don’t. I love it. It makes my heart feel like it could explode when you do that.” He wriggled, as if trying to summon the energy to move off of me. “I must be crushing you.”
“Mmm.” I locked my feet over his calves and clutched at his shoulders. “I like it. Stay.”
“As long as you can breathe.”
I inhaled against his throat. “I can breathe just fine.”
A long drowning glowing silence.
He rolled over and took me with him. “Is it too soon?” he asked, his deep brown eyes serious and searching.
“To feel this way for each other?” I clarified.
“Right. Like, in some ways I feel like we just met. But in other ways, I feel like I’ve known you forever.” His hands now made a similar circuit of caresses over me as I had him, stroking through my wild messy copper hair, over my shoulders, down my back to cup my ass with obvious enjoyment.
“I know what you mean,” I said, resting my cheek on his shoulder, nose against his neck. “And…maybe it is too soon. I don’t know. But I know how I feel. And if it’s crazy, I’m okay with that. I feel safe with you.”
“Because you are safe.”
“And I don’t know that I’ve ever felt safe before. You of all people will understand this, but when you grow up never knowing if you’ll have a meal, if your mom will be sober, if you’ll have to walk yourself to school or to the bus, if you’re gonna find her passed out when you get home, if she’ll be gone for an hour or a day or a week…feeling safe is…it’s the most important thing.”
“I know it seems weird, looking at me now and my career, but I was a tiny, scrawny, skinny kid. I was bullied and teased and made fun of and beaten up, and then I’d go home and my mom would be…well, you know. I never felt safe either. So yeah, I get it. I grew up, got big, got strong, and got dangerous, and I created a feeling of safety for myself.” He brushed at my hair, my buttocks. “But physical safety is not the same as emotional safety. And until you, until now, that’s something I’ve never had.” He cupped my cheek. “So if it’s too soon, if it’s crazy, I’m okay with that.” A pause. His eyes on mine, our gazes locked. “I’m not falling, because it’s a choice. I just love you, Autumn. I may not know what that means fully, yet, or how to show you, how to…how to do being in love, how to love you, but I mean it and I’ll give you all I’ve got.”
Autumn Rolls a Seven (Billionaire Baby Club Book 2) Page 21
