“Because you're not leaving.” He scrubbed his hand through his hair, sending drops of water flying.
“Oh really?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow. He nodded his head, dropping one knee to the mattress. She leaned back, putting more distance between them. The look in his eyes was a little concerning. She didn't know exactly what she'd expected from him, in all honesty. A satisfying fuck and then an awkward goodbye had seemed most likely. “I don't...” she trailed off, trying to think of some reason why she had to go home right then. He closed his big hand around her ankle and she bit down on her lip, all thoughts fleeing her brain. She knew there was a good reason somewhere, but she just couldn't think of it. He grabbed her other ankle, his touch warm and solid, but still soft, like he was afraid of hurting her. Then he yanked her down to the foot of the bed, like she was his to do with what he liked.
She fell over onto her back at the force, throwing her arms over her head. She shivered, wondering what he was planning for her. Her bottom half was bared to his gaze and he was taking advantage, studying her like he wanted to memorize every inch of her. His eyes stopped on the tattoo she had on her ribs under her left breast. He lifted one big hand and dragged his thumb across the inked word etched in her flesh in calligraphy.
Sugar.
She'd gotten the tattoo a few months before she'd been arrested when having ink seemed like the baddest thing ever. She honestly didn't think about it much, the little tattoo. Hardly anyone called her Sugar anymore; it was a silly childhood nickname her mother had given her. But watching him discover the tattoo, she was suddenly very happy she'd gotten it. It hadn't escaped her notice that he was oddly tattoo free. She'd expected him to be as tatted up as the other fighters at House of Pain, but he wasn't. The only discolored space on his pale skin was the large burn on his chest. The ruined flesh was darker than the rest of him. She clenched her fingers as the desire to run her fingers all over his chest came to her. She wondered again if the scar was more sensitive or less sensitive to her touch? She wanted to find out.
She brought her knees together and tried to raise up on her elbows, but he grabbed her knees and pushed them back open. He dipped his head and pressed a kiss to the soft spot right below her bellybutton and her brain short-circuited. Then he nipped at her skin and she jerked against him, her hands flying down and slapping his shoulders. It came to her in a flash what he was planning to do.
“Oh...” she groaned, halfway between wanting to tell him to stop and wanting to push his head down further. He'd already been inside of her, but this felt too intimate, somehow. He'd already licked her pussy once that evening and it had almost made her brain explode. He would be focused completely on her pleasure, his mouth on the most sensitive and secret part of her. She wasn't scared, exactly, she was just... unprepared. The feelings he was stirring up in her were already too intense. She dug her nails into his shoulders as he flicked his tongue out to taste her skin. “Tate,” she whispered. He opened his eyes and looked at her, his eyes dark with wanting.
“You still want to go home?” he asked, lowering himself on top of her, forcing her thighs open to accommodate his broad chest. He ran his palms up the dip of her stomach and under the hem of her sweater. She arched her back involuntarily as his warm hands cupped her breasts, like her body was starving for his touch. He nibbled at her abdomen again, trailing his mouth over to her hip. He ran his tongue across the line of her tattoo and then bit down on the ridge of her hip bone. A pang of almost painful lust shot through her and she bucked against him, bringing her knees up at his sides. She wanted to fuck again, yes she did. All he had to do was touch her, barely touch her, and she was ready for him. She told herself that it was all the years she'd been deprived of sex, but that was such a fucking lie.
It was Tate. All Tate.
“Let me,” he said, his breath teasing her sensitive skin. Under her sweater, he pinched her nipples softly and she had to clench her jaw against the overwhelming sensation. She wanted his mouth on her tits. She wanted him to suck and lick her and fuck her until she went completely out of her mind. And yet, in that moment, it sounded perfectly sane. When he took his hands away, she frowned in disappointment. “Tell me what you want,” he said, pulling himself up onto his elbows and hovering over her.
“What do you want?” she asked, turning it back around on him. It was fairly obvious what he wanted to do right about then, but she still wanted to hear it from his mouth. He shook his head slowly.
“You're still playing with me,” he said, his voice low. “I don't like it.”
“I'm not.” She brought her hands to his face, running her thumbs across his sharp cheekbones. “I just want to hear you say it.” He stared down at her, like he didn't quite believe her. She swept her eyes all over his face, taking in everything, from the small raised scar over his left eye to his chipped front tooth to the mole on his chin. He was so damn attractive. “Say it,” she mouthed.
“I want to eat your pussy,” he said and she shivered, taking a second to let his words sink in. He dropped his face to her chest and nudged his nose across her sweater, like he couldn't get enough of the way she smelled. “I want to bury my face in your cunt,” he continued, his voice muffled. She arched her back, the movement causing her aching nipples to graze the soft fabric of her sweater. She moaned involuntarily, even though he was barely touching her. “Can I?” he asked, almost innocently, like he actually thought she might say no. She wasn't that cruel. Any thoughts of leaving had faded from her mind anyway. At that point, she didn't even know if she remembered how to get back to Gina's place.
“Mm-hmm,” she moaned in agreement, running her tongue across her dry lips. He pushed himself up on his arms, hovering over her. Free of his weight, she threw her legs open so quick she was surprised she didn't dislocate her hip. He made a low sound deep in his chest, like he was just as ready as she was. He moved southward with a quickness, dragging his hand down her left inner thigh to her knee.
Then he attacked.
Shay went rigid as his tongue licked a slow circle around her clit. It took all of her willpower not to jerk back and away from the overpowering sensation. As if sensing her distress, he placed his other hand flat on her stomach, holding her down. He hinged her knee upwards, opening her up for him even more. She fisted her hands in the blanket above her head, trying to hold on as he sucked her into his mouth. She bit down on the inside of her cheek as he flicked his tongue against her as he sucked. He wasn't rushing, though. He was taking his time, moving his tongue slowly, languidly, like he had all night. She threw her head back, her whole body taut as he tortured her. When she thought she couldn't take anymore, he pulled back.
“Is that what you like?” he asked, his voice rough but soft. “I only want to do what you like.” Then he ran his tongue up her slit, almost as an afterthought, moaning like he loved the way she tasted.
“I like it,” she breathed, surprised she was able to form words.
“What do you want me to do?” he asked. Then he lapped at her clit again before thrusting his tongue inside of her. Her thighs clenched and she bucked her hips in response.
“Do that,” she said. His fingers were roaming on her stomach, up under the hem of her sweater again. He licked at her, dragging his tongue up and down her sensitive flesh.
“This?” he asked, slowly swirling his tongue around her clit again.
“Oh!” She nodded, clamping a hand over her mouth to muffle the scream that followed. What had she been missing all these years? Too much, apparently. He sucked, hard, and she dug her heel into the mattress and tried to push away from him. He wrapped his hand in her sweater and caught her before she could move, lifting his head to look at her.
“You don't like that?” he asked, breathing hard. She shook her head, but not because she didn't like it. Because she did like it. She definitely liked it. But it was all too much. She wasn't used to the intensity of what she was feeling. “Tell me what you want, baby,” he said, and she swore, her he
art stopped. That word. It wasn't a particularly original endearment and out of any one else's mouth, she wouldn't have thought twice about it. But for some reason, the word 'baby' dripped from his lips like honey and she went liquid, letting her thighs drop open again. She would be his baby for the night, if that's what he wanted. Just like that, she was ready for anything and everything he wanted to do. If she broke into a million little pieces, than that's what would happen. She would figure out how to put herself back together later.
“Do it,” she said, swallowing hard. “Do it again.” He ran his tongue over his bottom lip and then he pressed a kiss to her inner thigh. A dark look crossed over his face and she braced herself. He untangled his hand from her sweater and then he slid both of his hands under her, hooking them over her hips. He yanked her closer, his biceps flexing with the exertion. She dug her heels in, trying to steel herself for what he was about to do.
“You ready?” he asked, his eyes hooded with lust. She swallowed again and nodded, telling herself that she was ready. The corners of his mouth turned up in a slight smile and she felt her stomach drop. Nope, she wasn't ready, but it was too late. He dropped his head and kissed her pussy again, like he loved it. The fact that he was enjoying it as much as she was only turned her on more. He locked his hands on her hips and sucked on her clit, flicking the sensitive bud with his tongue at the same time. She moaned, squeezing her eyes shut and hinging her hips upward. He held on, loving her with his tongue until she didn't know if she could take anymore. She raked her hands through his hair, needing to feel him, somehow. He moaned into her, lavishing her like he was just as turned on as she was, although she didn't know that was possible.
If she'd ever been in love with a man, it was at that moment.
She felt her abdominal muscles contract and she clenched her jaw, throwing her head to the side as her whole body seemed to harden like a rock. Then the orgasm swept over her like a fog, not intense and destructive, but soft and caressing. She dropped to the mattress, the infection of pure bliss making it hard to think. Moving in slow motion, she raised her arms over her head and let them drop limply. Her whole body was limp and fluid. She took a deep breath, feeling like a change had come over her. She wasn't the same girl who'd come over to fuck around. Nope. She'd experienced something completely new. Any other time, that might have concerned her, especially considering that she wasn't supposed to be anything but apathetic to Tate. Sex was supposed to be simple, easy, like an itch being scratched. It wasn't supposed to be like this.
He raised up, swiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. She couldn't do anything but lay there and watch as he pulled a condom out of the dresser drawer and put it on. Before she could even register what was happening, he was on top of her, pulling her sweater over her head in a single motion. She moaned in approval when his warm bare chest settled on hers. It felt incredible to be skin to skin with him, like all of her nerves were crying out in satisfaction at once. When he slid himself inside of her, liquid smooth, she couldn't help but smile.
“Yes,” she moaned, drawing out the word until it became a hiss. She felt high, like the fog of pleasure had taken up permanent residence in her head. She dragged her mouth across his chest, from his collarbone to his shoulder, loving the clean taste of his skin. He fucked her slow, like his body was made to fit hers. He swerved and rolled his hips, grinding against her as they found a steady rhythm. His dick felt bigger and bigger with every movement. She was so wet that she didn't care. She didn't care how he fucked her or what he did. She just wanted him to come. She wanted to see the look on his face as he felt the same bliss he'd given her.
She pressed her hands against his back, loving the way his muscles flexed under her palms. He dragged a hand between them, cupping her right breast. He ran his thumb over her nipple and she arched her back, wanting more. As if he could read her body language, he dipped his head and licked her nipple before sucking it between his lips. She tilted her hips at the sensation and he bucked against her, thrusting inside of her even deeper. She didn't realize he could go that deep inside of her. She drew her knees higher, rubbing the sensitive skin of thighs against his sides. She wanted as much of her skin touching his as possible. She ran her toes up his calves and she felt him shiver against her. He dragged his bottom teeth across her sensitive skin and she clenched her pussy around him. Everything he did was killing her.
“Fuck, it's so good,” he whispered so low she almost didn't hear him.
“Tell me,” she said, grabbing his chin and lifting his face. She wanted to look him in the eye, but he didn't oblige her. Instead, he threw his head back and clenched his jaw as he shivered against her. She raised her head and bit his chin lightly, because she wanted him in her mouth. “I want to hear it.” She ran her tongue over the smooth line of his jaw, realizing that he must've shaved in the shower. The thought of him shaving, even the thought of him in the shower, made her clench her pussy again around his big dick. God, the man would be sexy doing anything. He gasped roughly and then he bucked against her, grinding into her like he couldn't control himself.
“Your pussy feels so fucking good,” he said, his voice strained, deep thrusts punctuating each dirty word. She groaned at his words and buried her face in his neck. She dragged her nails down his back and he made a growling sound deep in his throat. He dropped all of his weight onto her, holding her down. Then he dug his knees in and thrust hard, again and again. She could barely breathe as he fucked her into the mattress like a man possessed. But she was so wet and so into him that she didn't even care what he did. Her body was ready and pliant. She just wanted him to do whatever he wanted. She wanted whatever he wanted. So she clenched herself around him and scored her nails up and down his back, like she knew he liked. She liked the way he felt. She liked that there was nothing in the world that mattered right then other than the way he felt.
He threw his head back and she knew he was close. She forced her eyes open and watched as he dropped his mouth open in a silent scream, the chords of muscle on his neck tensing. He made a strangled sound and bucked into her, and she knew he'd hit his wall. He dropped his head and opened his eyes. He looked drunk, hazy, and out of it, but as his gaze met hers, something changed. Everything seemed to come into focus. He thrust into her twice more and neither of them blinked. She couldn't take her eyes off of his until she felt her own body tense. All of a sudden, an unexpected wave crashed into her and she lost all control. She arched her back, pressing her stomach against his as the climax took over. She felt him jerk against her and she felt his ribs expand against her thighs as he took a deep breath like he was drowning. Another almost-painful tremor of pleasure run through her as she realized they were coming together. She tightened her hold on him, milking both of their orgasms for as long as she could. She liked having the power over him. It was as all-consuming as being pinned under him and filled to the brim with him. Overflowing and overwhelming.
And she loved every second of it.
Chapter Twelve
Tate was surprised that he couldn't sleep.
His body was tingling with bliss and relaxed after the multiple orgasms he'd had. His eyes were heavy and Shay's warm, soft body was against his, but he still couldn't fall asleep. He rolled over onto his side as the light outside the windows shifted from dark to a hazy blue, signaling that the day was ready to begin. He didn't know how long he'd been laying there next to her, but it felt like both a long time and a short time. He was going to be dead on his feet on his day off, but he didn't care. All that mattered was the fact that she was still naked in his bed.
The night wasn't quite over.
He pulled her closer, pressing his cheek against her shoulder. He knew he probably shouldn't be holding her like that, but he also didn't really care. After everything they'd done, he just wanted to feel her body close to his. He was used to sleeping alone, so he should've wanted space. But when she was in his bed, he couldn't keep his hands off of her. He ran his fingertips up her thigh and
over the swell of her hip, unable to stop himself. Her skin practically begged to be explored. She smelled so good and she felt even better.
His sheets were going to smell like her when she was gone, he realized. Moaning to himself, he lightly rolled her over onto her back. She sighed lightly and scrunched her nose up in a cute way, but didn't wake. He ran his hands over the swells of her tits, deciding that they were perfect. He loved the way her skin smelled in the valley between her breasts too, like all of her natural, womanly scent was concentrated right there. She smelled like vanilla and coconut and something vaguely floral. He dragged his lips across her smooth brown skin and peppered kisses down to her belly button. He shoved the blanket low on her hips, exposing more of her body to him. He'd already explored her once that night, when he'd buried his face in her pussy and made her moan his name, but he wasn't done. He ran his tongue down the soft dip in her stomach, tasting her arousal and sweat. She stirred against him, her hand finding his cheek in the semi-darkness.
"What are you doing?" she murmured. He didn't respond with words because he didn't feel like talking. Instead, he cupped her left breast and brought it to his mouth. Yeah, he liked her tits. A lot. They were heavy and full and soft. He liked the way they felt in his mouth, against his tongue. He snaked his tongue out, tracing a circle around her nipple, feeling it harden beneath his attentions. He shivered a bit when her fingernail brushed his earlobe - fuck, he liked that - and then he dove in, sucking her tit in earnest. She moaned and pressed her palms into his shoulders. He released her from his mouth with a soft 'pop' then flicked his tongue against her already wet flesh. "What time is it?" she whispered. He shrugged. He didn't know and he didn't care. He grabbed her left hand and brought it to his mouth. He pressed his lips to her palm and she moaned again.
“How do you do anything with these?” he asked, running his cheek across the tips of her nails.
Spitfire Suckerpunch (House of Pain Book 2) Page 18
