by Anne Marsh
“I can pretty much guarantee I’m not going to be gentle.”
“Okay.” That was her voice, breathless and needy.
“But I’m also going to make you feel good,” he promised.
Saying something felt right, but she couldn’t get the words out.
“Shhh.” As if he knew she couldn’t think, talk and feel at the same time. Or rather she could, but she’d rather not. He stretched her arms higher over her head. “Remember. Leave them there.”
He was telling, not asking for permission. She nodded, anyway.
The rasp of his zipper coming down made her hotter. She wanted him to ram himself into her, to part her body with his and make her accommodate him. He’d do dirty things to her and then she’d do them to him because tit for tat was only fair, and his body drove her to crazy-good heights.
“Hurry up,” she said, the words escaping her before she could bite them back.
He leaned in, giving her his full weight, his dick nestled against her butt. Her cheeks parted beneath the cotton of her shorts to accommodate him.
“Who’s in charge?” He wanted to make his point, the answer clear, but that was part of the game, wasn’t it? She ached deep between her thighs. He’d give it to her good.
When she didn’t answer right away, because she wanted to see what he’d do, he dragged his penis up her butt and then back down again. His hand tangled in her hair, a heavy weight, as if he wasn’t ever letting go.
“Laney.” The stern warning in his voice deepened the ache.
“You are,” she gasped.
She’d given him the words, now he had to give her what she wanted, right? Instead of sinking himself inside her body, however, he tugged down her tank top and the soft cup of her bra. He rubbed her nipples with the pad of his thumb while he twisted her head back and kissed her again. The rough stroke of his tongue taking her mouth matched the flick of his callused thumb and forefinger over her nipple. Then he plucked, hard, and she arched back into him with a cry.
“You have any idea how much I like that sound? Makes me want to kiss you and suck you, run my hands and my mouth over you until you come.”
Yes, please. When she tried to angle her head so she could kiss him, he halted her with a hand in her hair.
“Nuh-uh. Hold still.” A wave of heat followed the prickle against her scalp as she reached the end of her new leash.
When he rested his hand on the front of her shorts, she squirmed before she could stop herself. Her whole world focused on that hard hand cupping her. Her heartbeat banged in her ears, her breathing hitching and picking up speed.
“You can’t get away,” he growled, his voice low and authoritative. “And I’m taking what I want because you said I could.”
His hand cradled her through the cotton, pressing in so there was no mistaking his intentions. No foreplay, no pretty words. He just dragged his fingers up, shoved them down the waistband of her shorts and underneath her panties, and all she could do was feel and trust him. He fingered her slick folds, parting her swollen flesh so he could push inside her.
She moaned.
He pumped in and out of her, his hand bumping against her panties. The tug of the cotton reminded her she was dressed and up against the wall.
His booted foot—oh, God, she loved his boots—kicked her legs wider. Her clit throbbed against his fingers as he pumped her with his hand. He gave her more, a second finger joining the first. Fuller, better, harder, the firm pressure made her head swim. The slick sounds filled the room, impossible to ignore, and heat seared through her. She was stretched around him, helpless to do anything but ride his hand and take him deep.
He lowered his mouth to her ear. “You could come just like this.”
Maybe. But she was greedy and she wanted more. If she was taking what she wanted tonight, she was nowhere near done. She wanted more than ten minutes. But that was a guy for you. Kiss for so many minutes. Rub her breasts, snap on a condom and get down to business.
He backed off slightly. She felt a flash of disappointment—was he done already?—but then he was yanking her shorts and her panties down her legs, cool air brushing against her sweat-slicked skin. “Step out.”
She did, pushing her shorts to one side with her foot. Hesitated.
“You want to pick them up and fold them, don’t you?” Amusement colored his voice and so what if she did? Liking things to be organized wasn’t a crime.
“Live dangerously, because I can’t wait another minute to be inside you.” His hot breath brushed against her ear and she swallowed another moan. She kicked her panties to the side and waited. Since this was her fantasy that put him in the driver’s seat, the anticipation trickled through her like a heady aphrodisiac. Gray was one delicious surprise after another and just imagining what he might do next made her wetter.
“Good girl. Now hands over your head, up against the wall.”
An answering urgency swept through her. She leaned back into the wall. They were so close that their bodies almost touched, yet inches of space remained between them. Stretching her arms up over her head, she arched her back slightly until her nipples grazed the front of his T-shirt and she was all laid out for him.
“I’ve got to feel you.” He hauled his T-shirt over his head, tossing it behind him. Then he pulled her toward him until her nipples came into contact with his bare chest, and she felt the unexpected kiss of dog tags against her heated skin. Soldier.
Reaching between them, he shoved his pants down, and she curled her toes into the cool tile of the floor. Hurry.
Pinned up against the wall, the rough plaster rubbed against her bare skin, the hard surface strangely titillating. He was fully dressed except for where he’d unzipped and bared himself, while she was naked from the waist down, her bra pushed beneath her breasts. It should have felt awkward, because she’d never been so intensely aware of her nakedness. And she did feel exposed, confined...sexy.
Even the snap of the condom was exhilarating. God, he was gorgeous and in a hurry and every bit as hot for her as she was for him.
He stepped between her legs. “Straddle me.”
She wasn’t sure what he meant, but it didn’t matter. His hands found her hips, guiding her, and she let him take over. He tugged and she slid down the wall, the coarse prickle against her skin making her hotter. Then he spread her bare thighs over his, his cargo pants teasing her. He opened her up with his thumbs, breaching her folds. The fierce stab of pleasure followed the first small throb from her clit.
Off balance, she wasn’t sure what to do. “I need something to hold on to.”
Before he could answer—hello, it was her fantasy night, after all—she moved her hands down, gripping his biceps. The muscles in his arms tightened and bunched. She could feel the leashed power as he readied himself.
He cupped her butt with his hands, lifting her up.
“Ready?” He pressed her into the wall with barely bridled aggression.
“Now,” she demanded, squeezing his arms. Oh, God, yes.
He bent his knees and pushed the thick head of his cock inside her. And kept on coming. God. He was huge. He sank into her, part rough, part tender, holding nothing back until he was sealed against her. The latex ring of the condom stung against her opening, a scintillating sensation she couldn’t get enough of. She rocked against him, working him inside, and then he thrust a little bit higher. Harder. A bright starburst of pleasure exploded behind her eyes as her clit slammed into him.
He lifted her, then dragged her back down, hammering into her with long, fast strokes that had her back arching with the sheer pleasure of it. Thinking? Impossible. Up, then down, he worked her on his dick as he thrust inside her. She dragged her hands up his arms, flattening her palms against his cheeks until she felt the rasp of stubble against her skin. The fierce look on his face was an even bigger turn-on. He made her feel as if she was the only woman in the world.
She wanted to remember this moment, to freeze it and tuck it
away so she could pull it out later and relive it. This was their first time, a fantasy time she’d stolen, just for her. Whatever happened later, she had these memories of Gray going crazy for her. This was a dream, a wish she hadn’t quite been able to put into words, and now it was a reality.
How did it feel to him? she wondered.
But then he thrust again and she lost her mind in the sensations, lost herself to the delicious push-pull of him moving inside her and opening her up. She groaned. He thrust, two, three, four times, his breathing harsh and controlled, and she could feel the immense power in his body as he held her up, angling her for his next stroke.
“I may not—” She was slow to orgasm. It took her a long time. Plus, she wasn’t a featherweight. How long could he realistically hold her up? “I take a long time to come.”
She waited for Gray to promise she’d come fast because he was that good, but he surprised her again. He nipped her lower lip hard, then laved the small sting.
“We don’t have any time limits. We’re doing this your way, so you come whenever you want or I’m not doing it right.”
Then he slammed his mouth down on hers and kissed her. Hard. This time, she concentrated on him and his tongue, mirroring the push-pull of his cock in her. He devoured her mouth. Licking, sucking, biting. He was everywhere, and for a moment she panicked, not sure she could breathe. Then she found the rhythm, their rhythm, and kissed him back.
* * *
HE NEEDED TO get this right. Had to make it good for her. He knew, without Laney telling him, that she didn’t let go often and so he wasn’t going to screw this up. She’d asked for her fantasy and he’d deliver.
Laney liked things a little rough, so he fisted her hair with his hand, wrapping the silky brown strands around his fingers. She had pretty hair, all tidy and organized like her. He hadn’t ever seen her with her hair down, not unless he got her that way. He didn’t want to hurt her, just make her hot, so he angled her head back with a light yank, and she opened up to him. Her mouth ate his as if she couldn’t get enough, her sexy whimpers getting him off. Her nails pricked his skin and damned if he didn’t enjoy that, too. She’d marked him.
He pushed in hard.
She rewarded him with another husky moan.
He pushed her legs wider apart, forcing her thighs open with his. She was gonna ache in the morning, but she’d told him she liked that. She wanted to know where he’d been, wanted to feel him on every inch of her skin. He could do that, too. Drawing her arms up over her head, he pinned her wrists with one hand. She moaned again and he pulled back, shoving into her until he was buried balls-deep.
“I’m not going slow.”
“Good.” She gasped the word. Another sign he was getting this right.
Give her fair warning. “I’m not done until the only thing you’re screaming is my name.”
“Cocky bastard.” She didn’t sound as if she minded.
He leaned in, pressing her into the wall. “You still want to pretend? Maybe that I’ve got you up against the wall behind the biker bar and we’re doing it hard and quick, because anyone could come walking out. Some guy going for a smoke and he gets an eyeful. You think he’d enjoy watching you?”
Her nails dug deeper, her pussy clenching and squeezing every inch of his dick. He’d give almost anything to be buried in her without the latex, skin to skin.
He wanted to draw this out, to make them both wait to come, because this was their first time and possibly their only. She hadn’t put a time limit on her fantasy, but she was only here on the island for a few days, and he was only here until he’d tagged and bagged Marcos. It didn’t seem like anywhere near enough time, not now that she’d allowed him in.
He pulled out, pushed back in. Four, five, six deep thrusts that buried him all the way and sent her arching up toward him. Cupping her ass, he held her in place as he drove into her. He pounded into her, finding a fast, fierce rhythm that banged her into the wall, sealing them together.
“Keep your hands there,” he growled, releasing her wrists.
Reaching between them, he thrummed her clit. Her sweet spot was hard and bursting beneath his thumb. She chanted his name in his ear, almost loud enough to be heard if anyone walked by. He liked that. He could take her outside, onto the beach maybe, and pound into her. Let her feel the excitement of doing it where someone might catch her in the act.
“You’re fucking perfect.” He meant the words, too, and that scared him.
Shut up. He kissed her because he wasn’t sure what might come out of his mouth and more to shut himself up than her. Plus, talking wasn’t happening anymore. Her body clung to his, squeezing his dick in a greedy grip. The pleasure hit him out of nowhere, pleasure with a side of something else. Satisfaction, possession, who-the-hell-knew-what, because she dropped her hands from the wall and linked them around his neck.
“Gray.” She whispered his name, and the heartfelt shudder was better than any scream he’d heard. Quiet satisfaction tore through him as she angled down toward him and she came, just like that, her eyes drifting shut. He wanted to know what she saw, what she was thinking of. Him, he hoped. Her pussy squeezed him and there was no holding off his own release. Instead, he buried his face against her throat, coming undone with her.
7
HOLY...WOW. THE MAN had turned her inside out. Rendered her boneless. He’d taken charge and stripped her of every ounce of self-control she possessed. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
“That was fantastic,” she said, because she felt the need to say something. To fill up the silence because he was staring at her, and she had no idea what he was thinking. She also felt more than a little ridiculous. She’d asked him for rough sex and, boy, had he delivered. The problem was that there was absolutely no graceful way to slide down the wall afterward and pretend she hadn’t been shamelessly begging him to give it to me harder mere seconds ago.
Clothes. She needed clothes.
And space. Lots and lots of space.
“Tell me what worked for you,” she said instead. He bent his knees and gently lowered her to the floor. One problem solved. Treat this like any other operation. Review what happened. Identify areas to improve. “No. Wait. Hold that thought.”
Donning some clothes seemed prudent before they started dissecting sex acts. She padded into the bathroom to grab a robe for them both. The his-and-her matched set hanging on the wall no longer seemed like a reminder of the love life she didn’t have. Holy moly. What happened next now that the hot, spontaneous vacation hookup part of their evening was over? Because she wasn’t ready to go to sleep—or to say goodbye to Gray.
Instead, she was recharged and full of energy. If the regrets hit tomorrow, she’d deal with them then. She liked the new Laney Parker, the woman who wasn’t afraid to drag a sexy stranger into her bungalow and let him have his wicked way with her. She could worry about life and unemployment later. Or whether Gray intended to spend the night or not.
Don’t overthink this. She snatched the robes from their matching hooks in the bathroom and slid into hers. Damn it. Should she tie the sash? Sashay back on out into the bedroom half-naked and give Gray ideas about doing it again? Find a pair of silky panties and slip into them? Really, she had no idea how other women handled this. When she walked out, tying the robe closed, he lounged on the bed. His new position gave her an awesome view of his big, powerful body. Not for the first time, she wondered what a masseuse had to do in his spare time to get that kind of physique. He’d zipped his pants back up, but hadn’t bothered with his shirt. She took a good look, admiring the picture he made, even while the questions racked up. From the scars on his body, he’d been a frequent flyer at his local ER. In addition to the scars she’d already noticed on the beach, he had more scars on his rib cage and an exit wound on his right shoulder. Plus, he wore dog tags she’d noticed earlier.
She tried to keep the question in, but the words flew out, anyhow. “Where did you serve?”
; He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter.”
It kind of did to her, part of that whole get to know Gray better plan. His battle scars said he’d been places, done things that he definitely hadn’t shared. And, while it really wasn’t any of her business, she was curious, and all that raw strength was attractive. He’d scooped her up effortlessly and held her against the wall. She wasn’t a tiny woman, but he made her feel feminine and small in a way that was a delicious treat. Gray was chocolate cake after a diet. She couldn’t do it often, but once in a while...it was okay to cheat and have things that were bad for her.
And he was very, very bad.
“Laney.” He ground out her name. She might have forgotten positively everything in his arms—right down to her surroundings and her dignity—but she knew her own name, so she ignored him.
She perched on the edge of the bed and crossed one leg over the other. “If you won’t tell me about your scars, give me the evening’s highlights.”
“Is this post-mortem a doctor thing?” He rolled onto his side, looking at her, and she could hear the lazy amusement coloring his voice. He thought she was being funny. He reached out a hand and curved his fingers around her thigh. She should have looked for those panties. “Lie down.”
“Tell me what I didn’t get one hundred percent right. I’m serious.” She swung her feet up onto the bed and scooted toward him. She should probably get up and wash her feet first so she didn’t get sand or something worse on the duvet. Why did hotels always choose white? It was so impractical.
He stroked his fingers over her thigh, nudging the robe out of the way. She made a face and flicked his fingers. Another inch and she’d forget her talking points. “Start talking.”
He sighed. “You were perfect.”
“Right.” He looked serious...she’d give him that.
He tugged on the end of her sash. “Did you hear me complaining?”
“I’m not asking for complaints. I’m asking for feedback.” Complaints were personal, him blowing off frustration or unhappiness, while feedback was actionable. Something she could fix or improve on.
