by R. J. Lewis
“Sorry,” I whispered hesitantly, looking up at Conor.
My eyes had mostly adjusted to the darkness. He was looking confusedly at me. Gripping my hand tighter, he pulled me to him, until my front was pressed against his chest. Staring down at me, he ran his free hand down the side of my face, feather light touches across my jawline and over my lips. It wasn’t the response I expected.
“You don’t get to tell me sorry,” he demanded quietly. “Ever.”
My heart slowed with ease. I stared into his eyes, vibrant even in the dark. Those blues were hypnotic. His expression was tender, and it made all my inhibitions disappear. He was like me. I saw it right then. He knew me and I saw him and all his troubled self. He would never do me any harm. Lock the door, I don’t care. Trap me, I’ll be okay.
With a weak smile, I defiantly murmured, “I’m sorry.”
His lips twisted into a smirk. Suddenly, he let go of my hand, grabbed at the back of my thighs and picked me up. I yelped in surprised as he spun us around, walked a few steps, and dropped me on the bed. I bounced and a laugh escaped me. He crawled in after me, moving over my body as I lay still like the dead.
“Cheeky little minx,” he said, covering me with his entire body.
My face burned as I laughed. “I’m sorry.”
He choked back a laugh of his own and forced my legs apart, resting his whole lower body between them. The pressure against my sex made it throb, and I sucked in air. He panted against my skin, studying my face with amusement. I dared stare back, not at all threatened by the scary Conor Thames. We were a ball of wetness. I was aware I was drenching his mattress, but he didn’t give a fuck, so neither did I.
Fuck, he was sexy.
Everything about him drove me wild.
“Why is everyone so frightened of you?” I wondered just then, floating in the moment.
He propped himself up on his elbows, looking into my eyes as I breathed harder beneath him. “Because I’m not a good man, dove. Because I hurt people and don’t feel sorry. Because my heart’s black and I destroy everything I touch. If you don’t feel frightened, there’s something wrong with you.”
Brutal honesty. Not fake drivel to appease the masses. It was the perfect response.
“I guess there’s something wrong with me,” I whispered.
“Is that right?”
“Yeah.”
“So, you’re unhinged.”
“Extremely.”
He made a thoughtful noise at the back of his throat, smiling at me. “You work well in my world then. I won’t get any of that skittish bullshit from you.”
I shook my head, studying every inch of his face. “None.”
“Then this is right, isn’t it?”
I nodded slowly, partly content, partly confused. “What’s happening exactly?”
He didn’t respond. He watched me as I absorbed my surroundings, absorbed him. How did I arrive here, beneath him, entranced by his black heart? Because it wasn’t so black to me right now.
He lowered his head and treaded his lips against mine. It was hardly a touch, but my eyes fluttered shut, absorbing the feeling.
“You should stop asking yourself questions, Charlotte.”
“But it doesn’t make sense,” I breathed. “I just met you.”
“Just be in love with the moment, dove.”
I tried to, but I kept tensing beneath him. Though sex wasn’t foreign to me, being with him made me feel like I didn’t know what I was doing.
“Is this too strange for you?” he asked, breathing softly against my mouth.
I swallowed, opening my eyes to look at him. “You’re different, Conor.”
“To what you’re used to?”
“Yes.”
He pulled away, making sure I had breathing room. “You’re used to what, Charlotte? Quick and quiet fucks? Fumbling boys and nervous fingers? Did they come after you, or were they too excited to hold the moment?”
I didn’t know if he was seriously asking me. I just stared at him, embarrassed that he was kind of spot on.
“You’re used to little dicks,” he explained, smirking at my expression. “Not cocks.”
“You’re vulgar,” I remarked, feeling my cheeks heat.
“You’re a city girl. You know I’m barely skimming the surface of what vulgar is.”
I smiled, shyly. “I’m going to combust, Conor. You’re killing me.”
“But you’re relaxing, aren’t you? I can feel it.”
He was right. His chatter had calmed me down. He felt so familiar, covering me with his body like he’d done it a thousand times before. His shoulders were so beautifully broad, I felt puny beneath him.
“You want me to take it slow?” he asked, dropping his voice lower.
I nodded, feeling emboldened. “I want to forget everything. I want to feel like it’s you and me and the world can go fuck itself.”
“I like that. That’s new for me.”
I eyed him doubtfully. “I don’t think any of this is new for you.”
“Ah, but you’re wrong.”
Propped on his elbow now, his other hand relaxed on my stomach. I was aware he was slowly undoing the buttons, but his focus was on me.
“Tell me why I’m wrong,” I probed.
“I’m twenty-six,” he replied. “Been in prison for eighteen months. The last time I was in bed with a woman, I was stupidly drunk off my ass. I don’t even remember her face. Fact of the matter is, I don’t remember any face. I took no good experiences with me to prison. When you’re young, behind bars, and you’re trying to get off in the dark with the lights out, it’s kinda hard to when you don’t have a face to think of.”
Sucked into his words, I muttered, “Face? You don’t think of their body?”
He shook his head. “No. I want to look at you when I fuck you slow. I want it with the lights on, so I don’t miss a thing. And when I do go back, I’ll have your sinful as fuck face to think of when I’m pulsing.”
Without waiting for a response, he finished unbuttoning my top and spread it open. His hand slowly roamed my chest, stopping just below my breast. He looked at me gravely.
“Charlotte,” he whispered, and it went straight to my ovaries. “One more chance to stop me.”
His hand was hot below my breast. It seeped into my being, making me blink slower. I almost wanted to laugh. One more chance to stop? We’d already gone too far to pretend it was innocent.
“Touch me,” I said quietly.
There was a triumphant look in his gaze, and mixed with his ego, I knew he must have felt his power. He knew what he did to women, and I wasn’t an exception. He had a way with silencing the world and making this – us, here and now – separate.
His hand trickled up my chest and cupped at my breast. He squeezed gently, studying my reaction.
“You’re so still,” he remarked. “What are you thinking right now?”
My breaths were uneven. I felt hornier than ever. I wanted his fingers to slip into my bra and tease around my nipple.
“I don’t want you to stop,” I told him, honestly.
“Yeah? What else?”
“I want you to kiss me.”
He looked to my lips with heavy eyes. I drowned in them, feeling paralysed because I was out of my depth and I didn’t know what the next move was.
If I was with Reid, he’d have turned me on my stomach and fucked me for a few minutes, coming in me. Once he’d asked if I was taking the pill…right in the middle of it. It was unsexy, and I’d learned to go with it because he cuddled me good after.
“Stop,” Conor demanded, as if he could read my thoughts. “Stay with me, dove.”
I refocused my gaze and watched him. He did nothing for a few minutes but stare into my eyes, determined to find me with him. Then he pulled away and jumped off the bed. He threw his sweater off, and my body immediately responded to his bare flesh. On his way to the light switch, he kicked his pants off and hit the switch, lighting up the ro
om.
“Get up,” he commanded, returning to the bed.
His face was alive, his eyes exploring my body as I slid off the bed and stood up. Waiting, the anticipation building, I gawked at his body, impressed how hard he was. He was ripped and broad. His hips were narrow, the V line was deep and disappeared under his black briefs. I could see his length through the thin fabric, bulging and big.
Standing in front of me, he took my hand and ran it along his length. My eyes widened as he slipped it into his briefs, making me wrap my fingers around his dick. He was so thick, I couldn’t feel my fingers touch. I let out an unsteady breath.
I saw the lust in him. Saw the veins in his neck strain.
“I am so fucking hard for you, I’m shaking,” he said, raising his other hand to show me the tremors running through them. “You want to know something fucked up, dove? I only ever shake before a good fight. I never feel this kind of adrenaline, and it’s so fucking raw, I don’t know how soft I’ll be with you once I let go.”
This wasn’t the Conor Thames everyone knew. There was surprise in him. His walls were down. The hard face was all gone. A persona he had mastered to make sure people didn’t fuck with him.
He wrapped his other hand around my neck, gently tugging me closer to him. I gasped as he peered down at me, lightly brushing his lips against mine with his eyes open, watching my reaction. My eyes fluttered shut and I gripped his length tighter. He was swollen, bigger than I imagined – bigger than I’d ever felt.
“Kiss me,” I demanded. I needed his lips. I was going to combust if he didn’t meet me halfway.
I felt his smirk as he took my lower lip into his mouth, fucking on it slowly. It went straight to my centre. I parted my lips, shocked at how good it went when he lightly brushed his tongue into me. He was an erotic kisser. The kind that explored the mouth in languid strokes. I shook with need. If a kiss undid me this much, what was the rest of him going to do?
“Take your clothes off,” he said, taking a step back, breaking our connection.
I didn’t even hesitate. I threw my top down on the floor and unzipped my skirt, letting it fall. I watched his eyes dance along my bare flesh.
“Everything,” he demanded.
I slid my panties down, blushing hard now. I’d never been totally naked in front of someone before. Too many imperfections in my reflection had fucked with my teenage self-esteem. I unclasped my bra and pulled it down my arms, tossing that into the pile.
There.
I’d done it, and I was kind of frightened to see his reaction.
But he groaned deep in his throat. A pleasurable sort of groan.
“You are so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, blown away. “I knew it when I saw you. I felt it straight away, Charlotte. I want you, yeah?”
I wished the lights weren’t on. His words made me surprisingly emotional. I swallowed hard, feeling awkward standing there, on the verge of fucking tears.
He came to me in one quick stride and kissed me. Erotic still, yes, but there was a heavy desire behind that kiss that made it more desperate. His tongue invaded me, exploring me, birthing a need that was so heavy in me.
He pushed me back on the mattress.
“Enjoy the moment,” he whispered in my ear.
My head fell back as his kisses descended my neck, nipping and biting. His tongue lapped at my raised nipple, sucking gently. At the same time, I felt his hand at my centre, lightly drawing a line up and down my slit. I shook, panting as he continued, slowly pushing his finger in, filling me. He kept it there inside me and then continued his descent, sucking at my flesh, biting my hip.
“Fuckin’ perfect pussy,” he grumbled.
Then his mouth was there, and stars exploded in my vision. My hands flew to his head, and my heels dug into the mattress. Sparks danced inside me, igniting a slow building pressure. I felt his tongue along my clit, sucking, taking his time. He groaned, and I felt it everywhere. It pushed me over the edge.
I came hard.
The feeling immobilized me, washing through me with warmth and pleasure.
Conor climbed over me, wasting no time before kissing me again, ravaging my mouth before pulling away to look at me.
Excited blue eyes stared into me.
“You’re fucking good,” he stated.
I blinked. “How?”
“You let go so fast, it was crazy hot.”
He offered me so much comfort. I didn’t feel weird beneath him. I wanted more. Needed it with every fibre in my being.
“Can you fuck me now?” I asked.
He groaned again, pressing his forehead to mine. “You have no idea how much I want to do that.”
“So, do it.”
“It might be embarrassingly quick, dove. I haven’t been with anybody in a very long time. Unless you count Kiki.”
“Kiki?”
“Inmate hairdresser. He fucked me with his eyes every day. It made me feel warm.”
I laughed, raising my hips against his. “Conor…”
He smirked, but it was losing intensity quickly as he looked me over. His hand rubbed my centre languidly. “You’re so fucking wet. It’d feel good, wouldn’t it?”
“Try.”
I didn’t understand his hesitation. The bully was long gone. I raised my head up and kissed him gently. My hand ran down his abdomen and wrapped around his cock through his briefs. He’d put himself back in, to my dismay.
“Conor…” I pleaded again.
He shut his eyes as I rubbed him. “I’ve never fucked sober.”
My strokes paused. He re-opened his eyes to gauge my reaction. I was surprised that it mattered if he was sober, but now wasn’t the time to ask about it.
I bit my bottom lip. “Maybe you’ll fuck better.”
A slow smile spread across his face. Then he was kissing me again, swallowing my moans. He pulled away to let me push his briefs down, and his cock sprang out. All of it. I hid my nerves, because I didn’t know how that was going to fucking fit exactly. It was going to hurt, but I didn’t seem to care. My entire body quaked to be touched and felt. He kissed me ravenously, and his hands moved everywhere all at once.
He spread my legs wide and thrusted into me without warning. I throbbed around him, sucking in air as I stretched for him. He paused then and laid there, over me, his full length filling me whole.
“I like this, dove,” he whispered against my lips, staring dazedly at me. “I feel everything. You’re so slick and tight. What the fuck have you done to me?”
I was still getting used to his size. My eyes were barely open. I was dick drunk.
“I think you should keep going,” I whispered back, moaning at the pleasure I felt every time he moved even slightly. “Do you think I’ll feel you pulsing when you’ve come? Because I feel everything too, Conor, and it’s good and painful and I don’t want it to stop.”
A strange look washed over his face. He stared at me like he was doing it for the first time again. The same look he’d given me when I’d stood behind Reid at the party just hours ago (was it really a few hours ago because it already felt like a lifetime). The look that said, “I want her. She’s mine.”
After a soft kiss, he pressed his mouth to my ear and whispered, “I think I’m going to keep you, dove.”
Then he moved.
And it was punishing.
And it was desperate.
Relentlessly pushing into me, past the point of pain, and always past the point of pleasure. He fucked me hard, the adrenaline inside him coursed so violently, he growled into my mouth, sucking at my lips, owning my body with every push.
Filling me, then leaving me, then filling me, until I came around him, grasping his ass with both hands. I felt like an animal, pulsing and coming ceaselessly around his length.
It was everything at the time. This bedroom was my whole world, and he was my sin. I’d lost to temptation, but he gave me himself, and at the end of it all, I’d come out gaining than losing. Which wasn’t rig
ht.
That was against the rules.
He came hard, gripping my thighs, digging his fingers so hard into me, I knew I was going to bruise. He filled me, cursing and cursing.
“Fuck, dove, fuck, fuck…”
*
I emerged from the bathroom after cleaning myself up. Conor was still in bed, in the same position I’d left him. Totally naked, his dick semi-hard, his arm under his head. He was staring at the ceiling with a lost look.
I crawled into bed and fell over top of him. He wrapped his arms around me, catching me. Then he smiled that cocky smile.
“How’s your pussy?” he asked.
“Bruised,” I answered, grinning down at him. “How’s your dick?”
“Ready for round two.”
I laughed and relaxed my back on the mattress, shoulder to shoulder to him now. His skin was burning and slicked with sweat. His chest was still moving rapidly.
“I’ve never come that hard,” he said, sounding surprised.
“I’ve never come at all,” I murmured. “Well, by a man.”
He turned his head to me. “That’s really sad.”
I laughed lightly. “I bet you feel so cocky right now.”
“Charlotte, I feel like a king.”
“Oh, God.”
It was hard to think about the real world when I felt so bizarrely at peace with him here. I was literally giddy at life. I hadn’t felt like that since…I couldn’t even remember.
“What happens in the morning?” I wondered.
He let out a sigh. “I’m tempted to keep you locked in here.”
My chest seized. It was a traumatic thought, but the feeling quickly fled when I turned to look at him. He wasn’t Devil. He wasn’t pain or sadness. He was all hard and all male, and he wanted me.
“You want to know something interesting?” he asked, his blue eyes meeting mine. “I was going to get drunk tonight. I was going to take a random into bed, and then I was going to joy-ride around town, looking for trouble.”
