by Nicole Snow
“I said, 'enough.'” His eyes are darker than the dim room, expecting obedience.
He tips his face up, motioning me to stand. I do, running my tongue over my lip. “Sorry. Was it...you know?”
“Good? One more minute and I'd have busted in your mouth. Not because you're some virtuoso in sucking dick like a whore, but because it's you. You on this dick, and only fucking you, Red.”
Touching. In a weird, shameful, heart-wrenching way.
I try not to read too much in his words. He certainly wouldn't want me to. But it's like I've just received a gold star on my first cock sucking test from a bear of a teacher I shouldn't even be with.
Just because it's wrong doesn't mean I'm not proud of it.
“On your hands and knees, on the bed. Now.” His hands circle my ass, pinching my cheeks, bringing me home.
I turn, giving my butt a defiant shake. His low growl brings a smile to my lips, and then I'm on the bed, shamefully naked and open and loving it.
Is this it? I'm waiting for his raging fullness to fill me any second. The bed sinks beneath his weight. But it's too heavy, too concentrated in one place to warrant an imminent fuck.
His stubble tickles my thighs. There's just enough time to gasp before he buries his face in my pussy.
I try to take it, just like he wants, but it's overwhelming.
Marshal's hands on my thighs, holding me open. Frantic licks dive-bombing my aching cunt, pulling me open a little more each time. He's sucking, tasting, owning me from the inside-out.
Mercy.
I don't even try to last.
My hands grip the pillows above my head for dear life as I collapse on the bed, ass up and at his mercy. Snarling, he pulls on my legs again, making me the world's most pampered prisoner to his tongue.
My clit burns, swells, and ignites.
Then it's all just fire. So much more than the first time.
My blood becomes a cocktail bent on vicious ecstasy. Chemicals churn in my veins, hit my lower belly, join the heat and give themselves over to the expert chemist's tongue. With just the right pressure, Marshal pulls my tiny, pulsing nub into his teeth and strokes like it's his last time.
Because hell, maybe it will be. And if tonight is the only night I'm destined to enjoy the Castoff's fuck-genius, I want to come harder than I ever thought possible.
My appetite hasn't softened a bit for his cock. The latest O he laps into my body, leaving me breathless, offers relief.
It's fleeting. By the time I'm able to tilt my face on the pillow to replenish my spent lungs, the need surges in my pussy again.
It's madness, but it's real. Probably medically unhealthy, too, and there's only one cure.
His hand slides into mine from behind. “Turn, Sadie. Spread those legs and get the fuck ready.”
Helping me, pushing his massive body between my legs, reaching across the side of the bed. The drawer to his homemade nightstand rips open so hard it slams against wood.
My eyes focus through the darkness, just in time to see him tearing open foil with his teeth. The condom hangs in his fingers like a portal to another world. He grabs my hand, guiding it to the rubbery sheath, and then to his cock, fuller than ever and leaking pre-come.
It slides on with a pleasant tightness. Then I'm falling gently, legs open and under him. Finally ready.
“Breathe for me, darling,” he growls, placing his hand gently on my throat. The head of his cock presses closer to my entrance. “Look here. Give me your eyes when I take your cherry.”
Oh, God.
He's taking so much more than my virginity. I'm delirious.
My hands go flush to his big, powerful arms. Then he's moving in, hips pushing hard, the head of his cock forcefully taking, filling, staking its claim.
My pussy burns. Something soft and faint gives way. There's a second of pain, and then a little more as my walls fight to take him in all his pierced wonder. But it works because I was made for it.
In this weird, sensual I-can't-believe-I'm-actually-fucking-Marshal moment, I think I was custom made for him.
Marshal grunts when his cock pushes in to the hilt. His balls rest against my ass, warm and full, God only knows how many pumps away from giving up their fire. Holding his position, his hand takes my breast, and my nipple throbs in his fingers as he smothers me in a kiss.
“Fuck me, Red. Throw your little hips into mine. Yeah, darling, just like that.” A satisfied groan melts into another kiss.
I listen, and we're off.
Losing our minds. Fusing our bodies. Matching pulses.
My senses shut down. I lift my legs higher, fighting through the early discomfort, the burn. Pleasure rewards me a little more with every thrust. And then a lot when I'm able to push my hips into his.
My whimpers get more shrill by the second, drowning out the soft creak of the bed. His thrusts are coming harder, faster. They lift me up and punch me down again, masculine power slamming into me.
Marshal's eyes burn like never before. It's so intense I want to look away, if only he weren't holding my chin, keeping my lips ready every time he wants to stamp another rough kiss into me.
There's a new side of him in bed. It's wounded, frantic, and dangerously greedy. He owns me harder in every thrust, and that's where I sense him letting go, wishing our bodies were the entire universe.
My fingers pinch his arms harder. I move my hips into his, bite into our next kiss, as rough as I can stand because I want him to be okay, damn it. I don't want him to think. I want him to be here, with me, sharing this reckless, beautiful heat.
Harder, Marshal. Fuck me and forget the rest.
Just you, and me, and fire.
Whatever I'm doing, it works. He can't control the roughness entering his rhythm.
His hips slam mine so hard I might bruise. Delicate friction from his pubic bone becomes a fierce rubbing, rocketing my clit into ecstasy.
My mouth falls open, seeking desperate breath. “Marshal, I can't...I can't!”
The words I can't form tell him surrender is just a heartbeat away.
Those blue fires in his eyes intensify, and he grabs my hands. He pins me to the bed. His hips go rabid, thrusting like they're fully possessed. They finish me.
The fireball he's lit in my belly explodes, careening through the rest of me. My body hitches to his and I'm a convulsing mess, entirely undone by the unstoppable O ripping through me.
It's an eternity before it stops. Marshal sees to that, shoving my wrists deep into the mattress, grunting every time I bite the pillow to stop the screams, fucking like a piston. He wants my O harder, faster, deeper.
He thrusts through my pussy clenching his cock. Undaunted, feral, fueled by animal want.
My body is fried on so many levels, and we're nowhere near done. It's incredible how I still want – no, need – him to finish.
I don't understand it, but I do.
Marshal's next kiss is heavy. His tongue chases mine, says we're not done until he's given me some of that fire torching his veins.
His next few thrusts are electric, more deliberate than before. Growling, he lets my hands up. Seizing my legs, he throws them over his shoulders, lending better leverage.
His huge inked body becomes a hammer. He crashes into me, his huge chest rising and falling faster.
He rocks me to my very core.
Nerves I didn't know I had dance. Pulse quickens. Every bone in my body sings. My fingernails push into the soft sheets, seeking coolness, relief from Marshal's firestorm.
It's the contrast, two delicious sensations colliding, that rips open the sky and showers us in ecstasy.
My legs tremble, tuned to the thunder welling in his throat. “Come for me, Red. We come together. Right the fuck now!”
Vicious words. They're dirty, roughness in my ears, and also irresistible.
“Marshal!” His name is a hoarse whisper. It's the last thing I recognize before everything turns blinding white.
Release com
es, fierce and incandescent.
Shaking, sweating, clutching at each other, we give in. We give all.
My legs pinch his waist and he bows up inside me, pouring his heat into the condom. It's hotter than anything.
His cock sinks into me, throbbing, and I look up. Marshal's jaw pinches tight as his body shudders. His seed flows like madness itself leaving him.
Then there's a tense peace on his face. A relief. Like all the burdens corroding him from the inside-out are vapor. It's unexpected, beautiful, and it makes me come harder.
Relief is infectious, too. There's an afterglow waiting once my spasms wane; happy, soft, and freeing.
His grip is looser, but his eyes are still glued to mine. I reach up, stroking his big arms. Then I find his hand, push my fingers through his, holding on and waiting for him to leave a new empty ache in my body.
His hips roll back, untangling us slowly.
“Shit,” he whispers.
Oh, no. It can't be that bad pulling out, right? But the second my eyes hit the space between us, noticing the soft smear on the tip of his cock, it's my turn to echo his soft curse.
“Shit!”
Fingers trembling, I reach between my legs. There's something thick and hot spilling out of me, far too much to be natural.
“Fucking condom broke,” he growls. “Hang on.”
I watch all six feet of his hard, gorgeous body rise. He carries the mess in his hand to the bathroom. I hear it hit the trash and then the running water.
It's a strange background track to contemplate the myriad ways my life could change after tonight. Unintended consequences never seemed so real.
Of course, I can't just let it happen.
I'm sitting on the bed when he comes out, fingers combing his dark hair with his fingers. “Darling, I'm sorry. That's never happened before. Haven't even boned for the better part of a year. What are the odds?”
“Nothing we need to worry about,” I say, smiling as I pat the bed. I wait for him to calm down and sit next to me. “Remember June at the clinic? Front desk? We're still on friendly terms. I'm sure she'll help me get some Plan B. It pays to have a direct line to the pharmacy.”
He stares for a second, then reaches over, takes my hands, and lifts them to his lips. The kiss he plants on my wrists, one at a time, is exactly what I need to calm down. “Whatever happens, we'll deal. It's nothing I can't handle, Red.”
Is he talking about the possibility – even with the drug – that I could wind up pregnant? No way.
That's not happening. Still, it's sweet, in its own weird, wonderful, panicky way.
Apparently, I didn't just sleep with a beast who made my first time memorable because he's so damn good at it.
I slept with a good heart. It's there somewhere, buried behind the body sculpted by war, torment, and dark black ink coiled across his skin like serpents.
“You need a ride now, or what?” he asks, baby blues interrogating me softly.
“We're fine. The night's young, Marshal. And it's not like the next few hours will change anything after we've had one broken condom. Why don't we pick up where we left off before sleeping? I'll do it first thing tomorrow.” I raise an eyebrow, tightening my fingers in his, tempting him.
He looks me up and down. That hunger I love returns. Reaching for my hand, he guides it to his cock, wraps my fingers snug, and squeezes. “Guy I knew in the army always told me to watch out for redheads. Devils, all of them, he said. Never thought I'd ever want to break a fuck record in one night with one.”
Oh, but we do.
The night blurs on in a sex crazed haze. My virgin pussy isn't just broken into womanhood by morning. It's taken, filled, stretched, completed in the best ways.
The last time Marshal bends me over, sinking his bare cock to the hilt in long, deep strokes, I can't stop smiling.
It's different now. This isn't wrong anymore.
It's natural. Comfortable. Right.
We fit together in mysterious ways beyond how well his thrusts light me on fire.
My toes curl, dipped in pleasure, right before he crashes into me again. His cock plunges deep, swells deliciously, and erupts.
I come with no apologies, drawing in his thick, naked heat. Losing myself in Marshal's very essence. He empties into me with a roar, draining his balls, snug against my clit as they pulse out their contents.
The mess he leaves behind when we crash, tangled in each other's arms, is oddly satisfying.
There was always something we couldn't quite work out with words. It's nice to let our bodies do the talking for a change in the primal, secret language only the flesh understands.
I woke up his nanny, and nothing more.
Tonight, we're lovers.
Whatever we become tomorrow, just like he told me, we'll deal.
8
Inspiration (Marshal)
These tractors are a goddamned pain in the ass.
Not the old ones, which were built to survive the third world war, but the new machines with their pretty looks. Prone to breakdowns whenever you need them most. That's why I'm inside this beast's shell, hands in her guts.
Building frustration is the only extra warmth I get in the twenty degree cold.
Normally, I'd have spat out the flashlight pinched in my teeth a few times over, struck by the need to swear like a sailor.
Not today. It's different since I woke up, my dick a little sore and a few faint scratch marks on my back. Red has all the makings of a wildcat in bed for any man who puts in the time to train her.
He clearly isn't me, but fuck, what happened last night was fun. Something I needed for a good long while.
It's drained the poison from my skull, letting me work with a patience and a focus I haven't had for months. Maybe years.
I shine the light higher, find the half-stripped bolt I missed the first time around, and grab my wrench. It isn't long before I've got that bastard off, freeing the parts underneath. Takes half an hour to solve what should be a day long problem.
Thing I've always liked about good sex isn't just the momentary burn. It's the inspiration, the focus, the peace that hits later.
It's almost lunchtime. If I get moving, the owner can even pick up his machine today. Which I'm sure he'll need with a major snow dump in the forecast later this week. Most guys here draft their farming equipment for snow removal off harvest season.
I'm wiping my hands clean on a rag when I hear the loud ka-thunk outside. Either Frankenstein has shown up outside my shop, or it's a vehicle groaning in agony.
I rush out and see a flustered Red in the driver's seat. Her brother's truck. Mia sits behind her, tucked into her hoodie. Her little blue eyes are anxious from the racket.
“Turn it off!” I growl, tapping on the window.
Red kills the engine before she rolls it down. There's a knowing look in her eye behind the concern for the truck's life. “Ugh, sorry. The guy at the garage told me it was good to go. Doesn't sound like it's fixed!”
“Take Mia. I'll open her up and see what I can do.”
“Really? Okay. Thanks, Marshal.” Her smile is different today. It's appreciative, subtle, more secret than before.
I know that look.
It's how a woman lays eyes on a man after he's bent her over and fucked her senseless. After he's owned her. Normally, I don't care, but this? It makes me look the hell away before I get too hard to be useful.
Mia chirps through the open door, helpfully banishing the thoughts. I grab my little girl out of the kiddie seat and pass her to my nanny, planting a kiss on her forehead. “Behave. Daddy needs to get this fixed before you head to town.”
Honeybee tugs my stubble before I set her down. I rub my chin, wondering if I should just sprout a true beard. It's winter. Also might help us avoid a few uncomfortable stares. Less Castoff freak whispers when they think I can't hear, too.
I reach up, fixing my hat so it's protecting my ears, and stomp into the shop to grab my tools. I spend the n
ext twenty minutes trying to find the problem.
Every evil demon comes to whisper in my ear. It's hard working with murder on my mind.
If there was ever a golden opportunity to kill Jackson Kelley, it's in my fucking lap.
My eyes comb over the truck's innards. The truck's real problem is an easy fix. A simple belt replacement. That's not why I'm staring into this thing like I'm face-to-face with the Reaper himself.
A small adjustment here, a snip of the brake line there, and I could end this.
Hell, figuring out how to get the truck back in his hands without killing anybody else wouldn't be difficult, if I really put my mind to it.
Every evil second that demon whispers louder in my ear, calling me a fool to pass this up. Heaven fucking help me.
My blood runs hot the longer I work. Zane, Adam, Erik.
Their faces flash by like bad memories. I hear them over my shoulder, speaking bloodlust in my ear, begging me to honor my promise.
Do what you said, Captain. Avenge us. Get the hell on with your life.
Jesus, I want to.
Do I fucking ever!
There's a loud giggle behind me and something hits my boot. The spirits banish in a cloud of snow dusting my feet.
I sit up and turn. Mia laughs in Sadie's arms, nanny crouched over her, a small pile of snowballs at their feet. “No, no, honeybee. He's busy. How about you throw them at the tree instead?” I notice the half-built snowman a few feet away once they're coming closer.
“Sorry. We were just playing. Things got a little out of hand.” Red's bashful smile hangs on her lips. She's got a good hold on little Mia, the way it should be, keeping her from more mischief.
“Just a little longer, ladies. Quick tweak or two, and you'll be on your way.”
“Great. I'll probably just drop it at my parents' place. Jackson can pick it up whenever. Maybe stop for lunch with mom. She's good with children, despite her issues.” Her smile weakens, staring down at a hyper Mia clinging to her leg.
I turn, ignoring her, and start working the metal. Wish I had a radio. Maybe then they wouldn't be inclined to hang around while I fix the little starter problem.
