by Nika Dixon
He made the decision for her when he twisted to lay her down onto the couch.
Before she could ask what they were doing, he lowered his head and captured her nipple between his lips, teasing his tongue over the hard nub. She filled her lungs, lifting her chest higher, closer to him. He sucked the nipple into his mouth, and she whimpered at the delicious sensation. Her entire body was tingling, but the cramping tension between her legs was making her squirm.
He slipped his arm beneath her, lifting her upper back and her breasts higher. When he removed the hot, wet heat of his mouth, cold air settled on her skin with a tantalizing sting. He kissed his way across to her other breast and circled the tip of his tongue across the sensitive nub.
The moan building in the back of her throat escaped.
He placed his free hand on her stomach, turning his palm until his fingers were tucked beneath the waistband of her jeans. With agonizing slowness, he slipped past her underwear, pushing his hand farther down the front of her pants. The slide of his callused fingers across a place she’d never been touched, coupled with the insanely mind-numbing movement of whatever it was he was doing with his tongue on her nipples, left her unable to breathe.
He lifted his head. With his hand still trapped in her pants, he gazed down at her, his eyes filled with question…and something darker. Predatory.
“You shaved,” he said, his voice low.
She hovered somewhere between mindless pleasure and agony. “What?”
His fingers twitched beneath her pants. “You shaved.”
Her body responded without her—raising her hips in anticipation of the press of his hand—which was good, because her mind wasn’t functioning properly. She had to replay the question multiple times before she could comprehend the answer. He wanted to talk about this now?
“I…” She struggled to explain. “Alan doesn’t trust me with razors. He has—I have a beautician who comes to—I get sugared. Is that bad?”
The growl that left Marshall’s throat right before he kissed her wasn’t much of an answer. When he moved his hand lower, she hoped whatever it meant, it was good. Then his fingers reached her slick wetness and everything else was forgotten.
She gasped when he brushed over her sensitive opening. He pulled back ever so slightly, then rubbed one finger back and forth in a rhythmic, teasing pattern. He kissed his way back down to her breasts and reclaimed her nipple. He flicked it against his teeth and ever so slightly increased the speed of his fingers.
She grabbed for his shoulders, twisting as much of his shirt into her fists as she could hold. Her entire body ached, her hips struggling to thrust in time with the motion of his fingers while her back arched to get her breasts closer to his mouth. She wanted the sensations to last forever, as much as she wanted them to end—to set her free from the torture.
His mouth returned to hers. “Let go, Em,” he whispered against her lips. “Come for me.”
Her release tore through her with a scream. The torturous tension that had been building within her broke free. Her body was no longer hers to control. She couldn’t stop moving, squirming, undulating beneath the press of his hand. He tightened his arm around her while she clung to him in desperation, riding the waves of pleasure and release that pulsed and throbbed through her.
As her mind slowly came back to her, he gently lowered her back down to the cushions.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his eyes locked on hers while he slowly pulled his hand from her pants.
“That was…” She took a moment to collect herself, to let the sensations riding through her entire body calm down. “Amazing.”
Her body was still on fire, and she couldn’t stop her hips from wanting to continue with their strange need to keep squirming. She wanted more. Needed more. She was starving for it. Moving for it. She blinked up at the man above her, ready to take the next step.
But instead of kissing her—or touching her—he slowly released her and pulled away.
She panicked. Her gaze dropped to his pants and the large bulge straining against the front of his jeans. He still wanted her. But he’d stopped. Why?
Because he didn’t think she knew what she was doing?
She rose to her feet. Keeping her gaze on his, she unbuttoned her jeans, lowered the zipper, and pushed the material to the floor, dropping her underwear along with it. She kicked them away and stood before him completely naked.
He sucked in a long slow breath, then let it out with a whoosh. “Emma, I—”
“Don’t,” she said, cutting off whatever argument he was trying to come up with. She took a step closer and reached for the front of his shirt. He wore the plaid shirt loose, leaving the buttons open, which made it easier for her to slide it down off his shoulders.
He stood stone still, gazing down at her while she tugged the sleeves down his arms. She tossed the shirt away, then immediately grabbed the material of his T-shirt and tugged it out of the waistband of his jeans.
“Take it off,” she demanded.
He obediently yanked the shirt off over his head and dropped it to the floor.
Now it was her turn to stare. Nothing in her world would ever compare to the sight of him, framed by the low burning fire, with a hunger for her in his eyes and her slick wetness still shining on his fingers.
She traced patterns on his bare chest, letting her hands explore of their own free will. She slid them down over his abs, smiling when his muscles clenched and twitched beneath her teasing touch. He was still wearing his boots, and she was barefoot, which meant she had to rise up onto her tiptoes to kiss the base of his throat.
She teased her fingernails across the light dusting of dark hair that drew her down past his navel to the waistband of his jeans.
Before she could slip her fingers beneath the denim as he’d done to her, he stopped her.
With a gentle squeeze, he wrapped his hands around her wrists, preventing her exploration. “Emma. This is something you can’t take back.”
“I don’t want to take it back.” She twisted her hands free of his and placed them flat against his chest. The ancient urge he was fighting to control washed over her. She was shocked at the power it brought with it. She was nearly overcome with images of the two of them in a bed she didn’t recognize, the sheets tangled and sweat-soaked, their bodies twined together in pleasure.
This wasn’t in her mind.
It was his.
That he was trying so hard to keep it from her made her tremble.
The warmth of his touch brought her back to herself. “Em?” His hands were around her waist, holding her up as she sagged against him.
Her eyes focused on the concern within his. “I’ve spent most of my life being told what I want. What I’m allowed to have. What I can eat. What I can wear. Where I’m allowed to go.” She paused and shook her head slowly. “I’m tired of being afraid. Of being a prisoner. Of not living. I want one night where it’s me who gets to decide. One night to be normal. To be real. To be beautiful and wanted and—”
He kissed the rest of her words away and lifted her up.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and clung to him, returning his kiss while he carried her through the small cabin and into the bedroom.
As he lay her down on the bed, she claimed her victory.
Tonight, she would finally be whole.
Chapter Forty-Five
Marshall gently laid Emma onto the bed in the back bedroom, reluctantly pulling away when she shivered. “Don’t move,” he ordered, rushing back into the main room to toss a few more logs onto the fire. He grabbed the lantern from the side table and headed back to the bedroom.
The second he stepped through the doorway, his eyes were filled with the sight of her lying naked on the bed. He’d had women to the cabin before. Beautiful women. But not even Michelle had taken over his mind and body with such a force of need that left him questioning everything he’d ever done.
He’d damn near lost his load in his pants li
ke a horny teenager when she came for him earlier. If not for the pain of having a ball-busting erection being crushed by the front of his jeans, he may well have.
He set the lantern on the floor, bouncing its glow off the ceiling. He wanted to pause and take a moment to commit the picture to his memory, but he couldn’t stop himself from touching her. As he knelt on the mattress, she sat up and placed her fingers against his chest. Her skin was cool, her caress light. Her eyes widened with curiosity and wonder, making him feel like some kind of Christmas present she was unwrapping.
The pressure in his pants increased.
He fumbled with the laces of his boots. She continued to explore, teasing her cool touch down his spine. In his haste he tangled one of the laces into a knot, trapping his foot. He cursed and spun around, sitting on the edge of the bed to fight the footwear.
The mattress at his back sank lower.
She raised herself to her knees and pressed her front against his back, kissing the side of his neck. When the rough bumps of her hardened nipples brushed his upper back, he gave up on the laces and wrestled the boot off, throwing it to the floor.
She laughed when he twisted around and flopped her back onto the bed, pushing her into the mattress beneath him. Her laughter faded, but her eyes held him trapped. She touched her fingers to the side of his jaw. “Kiss me again?”
He was more than happy to oblige.
The innocence in her kisses went straight to his head, stronger than any alcohol he could imagine. Hesitant one second, then pushing wantonly into him the next. He was drunk on her. He wrapped his arms around her, pressing as much of her body to his as was physically possible. Her skin was cool, soothing the burning fever tearing through him.
It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.
He kissed his way down her front, pausing to take each nipple in his mouth, rolling his tongue across the tips before moving lower. He crawled backward over her until he was kneeling on the floor beside the bed. He placed his hands on her hips and pulled her to him, earning him a surprised giggle when her toes touched the floor.
With her bottom hanging so deliciously close to the edge, he kissed her belly, then her navel, then turned his attention to the inside of each thigh.
She gasped and clamped her hands on his shoulders.
He froze.
Damn it.
He was moving too fast.
He rose up over her, pulling her back into the moment with another kiss until he had her breathless once more. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes.”
“Do you believe me when I say I’m not going to hurt you?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re sure this is what you want?”
“Yes.”
“I want to make love to you, Em. I want to kiss you. I want to taste you. All of you. But if you want me to stop…if there’s anything I’m doing that scares you, tell me. And I’ll stop.”
She inhaled sharply, then nodded.
“Promise,” he demanded, “you’ll tell me.”
“I promise.”
“Good.” He smiled down at her, losing track of himself in her wide green eyes. “Now, where was I?”
“Kissing me,” she whispered.
“Where?”
“All over?”
He kissed her neck, slowly working his way back down across her body. His lips touched every inch of her on his way down to his prize. By the time he reached the inside of her thighs, she was squirming, her breath coming in sexy little gasps. Slipping his hands beneath her backside, he knelt before her and placed a quick kiss at her center. The scent of her earlier release filled his nose. He extended his tongue and flicked the tip across her, teasing it back and forth.
She dropped her head back with a moan. Her legs fell farther apart. He pressed closer, lifting her higher and taking his cue from her body’s response. He licked her, tasted her, sucked and suckled until she was writhing on the bed, her hands twisted in the blankets and her legs quivering.
He knew she was ready when she cried out, “Marshall, please!”
He placed a quick kiss to her navel and rose to his feet, pausing to admire his work with a cocky sense of primal satisfaction. She lay on the bed before him, her legs splayed wide, her wetness shining like a beacon, calling him to take it. To take her. She rocked her head back and forth, twisting the curls out around her head. Her skin was covered in a light sheen of perspiration, and she gripped the blankets like a lifeline. Her green eyes were dark with a delirious need she was looking to him to fill.
He dropped his jeans and nearly sighed at being able to release the pressure of his trapped cock. He was so goddamn hard it should have hurt.
Her eyes widened at the sight of him. “Oh, my,” she whispered. “That’s…big.”
He yanked open the drawer of the nightstand, digging for a condom. Tearing the packet open, he quickly covered himself. He slipped his arm beneath her and pulled her up the bed. He placed himself between her legs, settling his weight against her. Her heat scorched his erection as he pressed himself lower.
She lifted her hips with a tiny moan, rubbing herself against him. He alternated direction, pressing down onto her and giving her the pressure her body demanded. She clamped her hands onto his hips, biting his skin with her fingernails.
He kissed her neck, reveling in her squirming abandon, drinking in the pride of knowing he’d been the one to take her so far and riding the power of knowing he was going to take her all the way to the end. To give her what no other man had. To be her first.
He slipped the head of his cock into her opening and nearly lost his hold on his own sanity. Heaven and hell, she was tight.
He pulled out, making her whimper. Her fingernails cut deeper into his side.
“Easy,” he breathed against her neck, counting backward in his head. When that didn’t work, he scrambled to think of sports statistics, but he couldn’t come up with a single sport, much less anything with any kind of numbers.
Her breath was coming in short gasps. “I’m dying here.”
He kissed her shoulder. “You’re not dying.”
She bobbed her head. “I am. Oh, God, I—”
He slid into her again, this time taking it a little farther. Pushing against the opening. Sliding into her fire.
“O-oh.” The moan came from deep in her throat.
He held his breath and pulled back out again, earning him an accusing glare from the green-eyed goddess beneath him. He slid back in again, and she closed her eyes with a sigh.
He stopped at the obstruction of her virginity. He’d reached the point of no return. Struggling to keep control, the devil inside him demanded he plunge forward, but he knew he couldn’t just go. Damn it, he needed to be sure.
“Em,” he whispered.
Her breath hitched, and she opened her eyes. In their emerald depths, he saw tears.
To think he’d hurt her washed over him like a leap into a frozen pond.
She reached up and placed her hands on either side of his face, a single tear leaking out from the corner of her eye to trail down her cheek. “Don’t stop,” she begged. “Please, please, please, don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”
“I’m hurting you.”
“No.” She twisted her head back and forth. Then she rocked her hips, inching him farther into her. “I don’t know why I’m crying,” she said with a laugh. “But it’s…amazing. I can’t think.” Lifting her feet, she pressed her ankles against his sides, widening her opening and giving him complete and unblocked access. “I need it. I need…more. I need you. Please don’t stop.”
He dropped his mouth to hers and, with a single thrust, claimed her. He trapped her surprised cry with his kiss, whispering her name, telling her the pain was temporary, that it wouldn’t last. Sliding out then pushing deeper, he inched himself farther into her with each pass, until he had nothing left to give.
She’d caught him in a vise and he would be a happy man to die so gloriously.
Chapter Forty-Six
Emma’s mind left her.
She had no thoughts.
No senses.
No concept of time or place, other than to know she was being carried into oblivion by the man whose wondrous weight she was trapped beneath.
The pain had been sharp. Enough to make her question her decision, but his continued movements drew her away from the fear and into a pool of pleasure. With each thrust, he pulled and pushed her higher. He split her in half. A delicious death that turned her body to fire. She wasn’t sure how much more she was going to be able to take before her mind broke completely.
Then he whispered her name.
She lost the grip she was keeping on the edge of the precipice. He pulled back, and for a brief, breathless second, everything froze. Then he plunged forward, and she fell. She fell with every part of her being. Her hips bucked, meeting his driving rhythm, thrust for thrust. She knew she was crying and chanting his name like some kind of crazy person, but she didn’t care. Her body was exploding around her and she was caught in the current. He’d filled her to breaking, but as he lay with her, their breathing nothing but hissed gasps, the press and size of him began to diminish.
He kissed her cheeks and wiped the tears away with his thumbs. He started to apologize, but she laughed and pressed her hands over his mouth.
“Don’t,” she said, smiling up at him. “I’m fine. You didn’t hurt me.”
Holding himself up on his arms, he kissed her fingers. “Are you sure?”
Overwhelmed with an exhaustion she’d never before felt, she let her arms flop down to the bed. “I might be dead. Ask me tomorrow.”
He grinned and slowly pulled back. As he slid out of her, she was surprised at the level of disappointment that filled her with the loss of connection.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, giving her a quick kiss before climbing off the bed.
She admired the flow of his muscles as he strode out of the room.
The man had an amazingly sexy butt.
