by Eden Bradley
“Yes, Mick.”
He pulled until her neck bent back as far as it could. He pulled harder and she had to arch her back. And groaned when he bent to kiss her throat right where it met her shoulder—her favorite spot.
“Oh, yeah, I remember, Allie. I remember everything about you,” he murmured against her skin before he bit her.
“Oh!”
Her legs nearly went out from under her, but he had a firm hold on her. He licked her skin, then bit again, harder this time, hard enough to make her draw in a long, deep breath as she tried to manage the pain. Then his tongue bathed the sore skin once more, a lovely sensation.
When he lifted her arm and bit into the delicate skin on her inner bicep, she gasped. He followed the bite with a soft, lingering kiss, then helped her straighten up and turned her around to face him.
“Can you stand by yourself?”
She nodded.
When he let her go she swayed on her feet, and he steadied her. “You okay, baby?”
She smiled. “Perfect.”
He stroked a finger across her cheek. “Yeah, I think you are. But let’s sit you down.”
He moved her until she felt the edge of her bed at the back of her knees, and he helped her to sit. He was so caring of her, so protective. It was one of the things she’d always loved about a dominant man. It was one of the things she’d always loved about Mick.
As he took off his shirt, she remembered what else she’d loved about him, but his chest and arms were even more developed now. The tattoo he’d gotten right out of high school, the fleur-de-lis that was the symbol for the city of New Orleans with the words New Orleans Fire Department in a bold font arching around it, stood out against his pale golden skin, and she noticed once more the Latin script on his forearm. She’d always loved tattoos on a man.
And his abs . . . they were absolutely flawless, a full six-pack that looked as if they’d been cut from granite. She’d felt those hard planes of muscle when he’d held her close, but seeing his body was another thing altogether. It was all pure male beauty, rough and masculine in the same way his face was. All of him matured in a way that made him seem all the more male.
The lines of his body flexed and rippled as he bent over to unlace his big black boots. When he straightened she saw the jagged scar on his ribs from the old motorcycle accident, and she wanted to reach out and run her fingers over that hurting place. She wanted to run her fingers over every inch of him. But that would have to wait until—if and when—there was going to be sex between them without these roles. He was clearly in charge now. And tonight, their first night together again, it couldn’t be any other way. She didn’t want it to be.
He kept his gaze locked on hers as he kicked his way out of his boots, then his jeans. He was bare underneath—that hadn’t changed since high school. She pulled in a breath at the sight of his cock—strong and masculine and so beautiful she had to lick her lips. She wanted to taste him. She needed him inside her. Her fingers fisted in the soft duvet.
“Good girl. Stay still for me.”
He watched her, both of them naked, two feet from each other. Her gaze traveled over his body, and there it was—the two long lines of heavy scarring on his left shin from the surgeries that had repaired the badly broken leg and put the metal rod in. She’d only had a small glimpse of it when they’d been in bed together that one time, but the room had been nearly dark then. Now she could really see what he’d been through. But she didn’t let her gaze linger—she didn’t want to make him uncomfortable—and his beautiful, naked body was a hell of a distraction.
She looked up at his face, saw his unflinching gray gaze on her, saw the power there, shivered with it.
He stepped closer, until she swore she could smell his desire, feel it running like surges of heat over her skin, making her nipples go hard. Excruciating to have him so close and not be able to reach out and touch him. Even more when he ran a hand down his stomach and brushed his fingers over the head of his cock. She bit her lip but remained unmoving, other than her clenching fingers.
“You are so damn beautiful,” he murmured. “I need you so badly it hurts. Are you hurting, too, Allie girl?”
“Please, Mick . . .”
He stroked himself once more, a long, lingering caress up the long shaft. “Is that a yes?”
“Yes.”
She thought he smiled at her, but she was too mesmerized by his hand on his cock, stroking with his fingertips, then fisting for a moment before beginning to stroke again.
When he took a step toward her she pulled in a breath, and realized only then she’d been holding it. One more step and he was right in front of her. It took everything she had not to reach out for him, to remind herself that he was still in charge.
He placed his hand between her breasts, and his palm scorched her, sent shivers of desire over her skin, making her nipples harden immediately. He pressed down, and she lay back on the bed. He went with her, one knee bent next to her thigh. She was acutely aware of every inch of him: his hand on her chest, his strong thigh next to hers, the scent of him seeming to drown her senses with every breath she took. And above her, his face, which was beautiful to her despite the scars, the sharp lines of jaw and cheekbones, or maybe even more so.
“Still,” he commanded.
She wouldn’t have tried to argue right now. And she loved the authority in his tone, her body going warm and weak all over.
He began a slow sort of exploration, his hand caressing, squeezing, pinching: her stomach, her ribs, her sides, and finally, her breasts. He smoothed his palm over the full flesh, along the underside, around the nipple. Her sex was absolutely flooded with heat, soaking wet. She had to force herself not to arch her hips, not to arch her back to bring her aching breasts closer to his touch.
“You need me to touch you, baby? Tell me. Tell me exactly what you want.”
“Oh, God. I want . . . everything. I want your hands on me. I want you to pinch my nipples hard enough to hurt. I want your hand between my thighs. I want your mouth everywhere. I want you inside me.” She had to pause to draw in a long breath. “But what I need . . . is for you to kiss me, Mick. Please.”
He smiled, then leaned in, hovering over her until his mouth was an inch from hers. His tongue darted against her lower lip. She moaned quietly. Waited.
He did it again, catching her upper lip with the sleek, warm tip of his tongue. She didn’t dare move. When he did it once more, this time one long, slow lick of her lips, she sighed. His tongue felt amazing, but she needed so much more.
“Please,” she whispered. Begged.
“Shh. You’ll have to wait until I’m ready, baby girl.”
Oh, that pet name again! That and being told she’d have to wait for everything she so desperately needed. He was killing her.
He shifted until his knee was between her thighs and his hands were braced on either side of her head. He lowered his face and brushed a kiss on her cheek, his lips soft and almost unbearably tempting. He moved to kiss her other cheek, leaving her mouth empty and wanting. But desire was pouring through her system like liquid fire, fueled by his teasing. Her pussy was drenched. He knew just how to play her, to bring her need to the edge, sharp as a knife blade.
He returned to her mouth, his lips feathering over hers, and she couldn’t help but groan her frustration as well as her pleasure.
“Spread your thighs,” he whispered, but there was no less command there despite the softness of his tone.
She did as she was told, opening her thighs for him. But he did nothing except kiss the corners of her mouth.
“Oh, God, Mick.”
“Is this hard for you, baby?” he asked. “Imagine how hard I am for you. I won’t let you look now, but I think you know. I feel like I’m about to explode. Pure torture not to touch you, to fuck you,
with your naked body so close to mine. Do you feel the heat passing between us?”
“Yes,” she breathed.
“Like a volcano about to erupt, isn’t it? That burning hot. That’s why I can’t kiss you.”
“Mick!” she cried, her heart thundering.
A small chuckle from him. “Do you really think I’m not going to kiss you, Allie? Do you really think I can stand not to?”
“You’re a fucking sadist,” she muttered.
“Yeah.” He chuckled again. “A sadist who can’t resist you, girl.”
He leaned in and kissed her, kissed her so hard she was instantly breathless. His lips pressed against hers, hurting her, but she welcomed it. Welcomed his tongue as he pried her lips apart and plunged into her mouth.
She was panting against him, her tongue finding his, twining and wet. She’d never needed anything so much.
He was still kissing her when he grabbed her wrists and held her arms spread wide, held her down on the bed. He used his legs to kick her thighs even wider apart, and she spread as far as she could. But he didn’t touch her, other than his hands on her wrists, weighing her down, rendering her helpless. His demanding kisses rendered her every bit as helpless.
Her body was burning up, and still he kept kissing her—nothing more. She felt a trickle run down her thigh, her sex swollen with need. Her breasts ached, her nipples hard as stones. And his lips and tongue were torturing her in the most delicious way.
She lifted her head off the mattress to kiss him back harder, but he pressed her down again, telling her without words to submit to him—a power struggle she had no real desire to win.
Regardless of her wanting—a wanting she was drowning in—or maybe because of it, she felt a gear shift in her head. It was another level of submission, of giving herself over to him, to whatever he demanded.
He pulled away and whispered against her mouth, “Beautiful, baby. This is exactly what I wanted from you. What I needed to see before I fuck you.”
He stroked her hair, her cheek, ran his fingertips down the side of her neck, and at that moment it was as erotic as any other man with his hand between her legs.
When he brushed her nipple, she arched into his touch—she couldn’t help it.
He kissed her lips, a few soft, brief kisses, before moving down and grazing her nipple with his lips.
“Oh . . .”
He filled his hands with both breasts, flooding her body with another wave of heat before he bent and took one hard tip into his mouth.
She sighed her pleasure as he sucked, his mouth so hot and wet she thought she might come right then, her pussy clenching hard between her spread thighs.
“God, Mick. Yes.”
He sucked harder, eased off and bit into her swollen flesh, and she cried out.
“Ah!”
He pulled back and moved to the other side, pulling her nipple in with his lips, swirling his tongue over the tip, then sucking and biting, biting and sucking, squeezing her breast painfully with his hands. Pleasure was fire and rain and thunder all at once, her body hovering on the edge of release. When he thrust one thigh hard against her mound, her clit pulsed against the strong muscle there. He pressed again, and again and again. Her body exploded, white fire behind her closed eyelids, her legs shaking as she came, her fingers grasping the duvet, her hips thrusting against his thigh.
“God, Mick! Oh . . .”
She was still shaking when he asked roughly, “Condoms?”
“No, I don’t . . .”
“Hang on.”
She felt bereft as his body left hers for a moment, then he was back, and she blinked up to see him tearing a packet with his teeth. He reared back to sheath himself, and even watching him roll the latex over his rock-hard erection was purely erotic to her.
He leaned over her, took her wrists in his hands once more and drew them up until they were raised over her head. He wrapped them both in one big hand and held them there as he used the other to guide his cock to her opening.
“Yes, please, please,” she murmured as the tip of him rested against her.
“Look at me,” he demanded, his tone harsh, guttural.
When she raised her gaze to his she saw the need in his glittering gray eyes, in the looseness of his features. He kept his gaze locked on hers as he slid into her.
Her sex clenched around him as his thick shaft stretched her, and pleasure shivered through her like an electric current.
“Oh . . .”
“Baby,” he murmured. “Goddamn it, you feel . . . amazing.”
He gasped as he thrust, driving to the hilt.
She gasped out a breath as he filled her.
He was big, and it hurt. She didn’t care. She wanted all of him, every bit she could get. She arched her hips, taking him in.
“Yeah, that’s it,” he said. “Come on, baby. Fuck me. Fuck me as I’m fucking you.”
She did as he instructed, raising her hips to meet his as he drove into her. She saw every stab of pleasure mirrored in his eyes, heard every moan echoed in his deep groans. Sensation built, pushing deeper inside her even as he did, his cock a thick hammer inside her body.
When she felt his cock begin to pulse, he stopped, breathing hard.
“Don’t move,” he commanded.
She held her muscles taut, stilling herself as best she could. His scent surrounded her, invaded her head, her body, filtering deep within her system. Dark leather, fresh citrus, the smoky scent of sex.
“Allie, I need to . . .”
He trailed off, then he wrapped his hands around her waist, making her feel as if she weighed no more than a doll as he flipped her over onto her stomach. With his hands grasping her hips, he raised her up on her hands and knees. Before she had time to think about it, to protest that connection of face to face, gaze to gaze, he surged into her from behind, and she cried out in pleasure.
“God, Mick!”
He slung his hips, burying his cock deep inside her. Then he wrapped an arm around her waist and reached between her thighs to press her hard clitoris. She sighed when he began to rub, to pinch, to tug on it.
“I’m going to come,” she told him, nearly breathless.
“No you don’t, Allie girl. You hold it back for me. Don’t you come until I tell you.”
She groaned.
He pinched her clit hard, and she would have jumped if his big body hadn’t been flush up against hers, holding her in place.
He began to move, surging into her, sliding out, and every stroke was exquisite. She was shivering all over, her body working hard not to climax, to hold the need to come at bay. He bucked harder, his fingers tensing on her clit, and she had to bite her lip, to bite her orgasm back.
He was slamming into her, hard enough to hurt, but she welcomed it, needed it. Needed to feel him so deep inside her she would carry the bruises for days.
“Baby . . . Christ, you feel so. Damn. Good. So good . . .”
He wrapped his other arm under her breasts and pulled her up until she was on her knees, his arms holding her tight, his bog cock still ramming into her, over and over.
“Now,” he commanded, and bit into her shoulder.
Her pussy clenched hard as stars exploded in her eyes, the world spinning, dark, void of everything but their two bodies joined together, the pleasure and the pain. His strong arms held her together as her body shattered with sensation.
“Oh . . .”
He was groaning, bucking into her still, his fingers on her clit rubbing, pressing, driving her climax on.
When it was over they collapsed together on the bed, both of them covered in sweat. He still held her, spooning her from behind. His fingers still played lazily with her clit, sending small frissons of pleasure through her.
“Baby, baby, baby,” he murmured, nibbling on the back of her neck.
“Mmm.”
She felt amazing. Raw. Sore. Spent. But there was also that one tiny part of her that wished they’d come looking into each other’s eyes, that understood he’d turned her over for a reason that wasn’t all about the pleasure itself. And it hurt. But she understood that level of true intimacy would take some time.
She tried to let this be enough.
She snuggled back into him and he held her, his hand coming up to smooth over her thigh, sliding up her stomach, her ribs, to cup her breast. He stroked the skin there with his thumb as his breathing calmed.
She could smell the earthy scent of come in the air. Heard the sound of rain coming down outside, splashing against the wide leaves of the banana plant outside her bedroom window. Felt the small chill in the air brought by the rain. She shivered, and he held her tighter.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yes. Wonderful.”
It was true. But the small doubt that had invaded her mind as soon as they’d finished was there, too, and just as true.
She caught his hand in hers and twined her fingers through his.
“Mick.”
“Yeah?”
“This is . . . we’re just beginning, aren’t we? To see if we can figure this out?” she asked.
“What, baby? Yes, sure. That’s what we talked about. That’s exactly what we’re doing here. It wouldn’t have been more than play at the club otherwise. Is that what you’re asking me?”
“I . . . yes, I guess it is.”
He was quiet for several moments. She wished he’d turn her over to face him, let her look into his eyes so she would know. But maybe neither of them really knew yet, as badly as she wanted to. Maybe that wasn’t possible.
“We need to start somewhere,” he said. “That’s the whole point. We can’t go back to where we used to be. That isn’t where we want to be anyway, is it?”
“No. Of course not.”
“So . . . we start here. And see where it goes.”
“Okay. Okay. I know you’re right. I’m just . . . we’ve played and . . .”
