“Go. Go,” I edge, teeth clenched.
“You’re so big. I’m getting used to you,” she explains.
I know she’s toying with my emotions. Her hips rise up and lower again, faster this time. My fingers are a vice on her muscular hips. I have to make the conscious effort to not crush her bones with fucking desire.
“Compliments are nice, but I need you to fuck me like you mean it. Now, Teala. I’m not playing around anymore.”
Her neck works to swallow and she leans over to kiss me again. I don’t take my hands off her hips even though part of me wants to touch her face, her clit, her tits, my need for control dominates those urges easily.
She rides me hard then, up and down, her pink nipples hard, and her perfect tits bouncing to my favorite rhythm. Fucking. I blow out a breath and try to maintain some type of composure.
“Like this?” Teala asks, through gasps and moans. She runs a hand through her long hair as she arches her back.
It’s a view unlike any other in the world. “Just like that,” I say.
She works my cock too good from this position, so when she leans over to put her hands on my shoulders, I flip her onto her back and pin her to my mattress. She lets her hands fall crossed over her head because she knows exactly what I want. Control. I thrust into her slowly at first and relish the new sensation from this angle. Teala kisses my neck, but keeps her arms away.
Kissing her neck in return, I say, “Good girl. Just like that.”
I plunge into her harder, trying to keep most of my weight on my elbows. She’s hooked her legs around my ass and is meeting me thrust for thrust.
“Fuck, Teala. Just like that. This feels too good,” I admit. I thrust hard, as far in as I can. “Fucking,” I say, sliding out slowly, “you”—I jut my hips back in—“is my new”—I glide out again, feeling her clench me in protest—“favorite,” I growl, plunging back in again, “obsession.”
My statement makes her crazed. She reaches between our bodies and starts stroking herself in time with my thrusts. I don’t like it. I want all her pleasure. Removing her hand is easy. Keeping my weight off her body as I stroke her clit is the challenge. It gives me something to focus on besides coming. I know it will be quick if we don’t switch it up. Teala moans loudly, her face a mix of ecstasy and orgasm. I pull out at once.
“Don’t stop,” she rasps.
I have to, I think. I grab under her and flip her onto all fours. I won’t have to look at her face and it might slow things down for me. It’s not lost on me that I’ve never had this problem before and even the thought is enough to cause pause. I don’t waste any time once her ass and pussy are on display just for me. With the base of my cock in my hand, holding the condom in place, I slide into her. She growls like a motherfucking panther and starts bucking her hips back to get me in further. With a firm grip on her hipbones I slam into her so hard that the sound of skin slapping skin fills the air. She lets her head fall down into my pillows. I watch my dick slide in and out until I can’t watch anymore. Her pussy grabs it like it doesn’t want to let it go.
Teala tells me she’s coming, so I reach around and stroke her clit until she screams my name and braces herself on her elbows. My dick starts throbbing with need when the waves of her orgasm massage my dick. A little stiffness leaves her body as she tries to catch her breath.
“Flip over. Let me see your face,” I pant out.
She obeys even though my dick has to slide out so she can do so. She’s on her back, her hair a tangled mess of sex, and her face serene. God, her lips. Her fucking lips. I take them in between my teeth and pull. I could bite them off, keep them in a jar. Look at them for the rest of my life. I slide into her and still.
“I’m about to come,” I whisper against her mouth.
“Please do,” she says. “I’m impressed with your control.”
The funny thing is I have no control right now.
A few more pumps and my balls are tight and I’m tingling with the coming blast of pleasure. I lean back on my knees, tear off the condom, and stroke until hot bursts are flowing onto Teala’s tits. My face is turned to the ceiling to hide the twisted look of pure desire. My body juts a final time, and with a sigh I look down at the beautiful mess I created.
“My God, I didn’t think it would ever end,” Teala says, a laugh in her voice.
I sink back on my knees, totally spent. “I didn’t either.”
She sits up. Her tits don’t budge at the movement, but my come does.
“Shower?” I ask.
Bringing up her hands, she cups underneath the dripping mess and makes a joke about how she just got one. She rubs the come into her chest and explains it won’t drip that way. I raise my brow, impressed with her cunning. I’m light-headed when I stand from the bed and make my way to the shower. I turn it on so the water can warm and look over my shoulder when I hear her approaching. She’s coated with me, walking in my room, stepping into my shower, with me.
I smile.
Chapter Seventeen
Teala
His shower products are nicer than mine. He spends a fortune on personal grooming, a fact that surprised me the first time I showered here. We’re drying off in his bathroom, grinning at each other. He has a goofy look on his face, and I’m not sure what that means. His hair is tousled and wet and his thick eyelashes are clumped together with water. His body is insane. Not that I haven’t seen it in all its glory and know exactly what it’s capable of, but with a towel slung low on his hips and his gaze fixated on me, I’m noticing things I haven’t before. Maybe he hasn’t worn that smile before. Maybe he wasn’t lying when he told me nothing would change after we had sex. I didn’t believe him. How could I?
I drop my towel and sort through my bag for the black pair of thongs I threw in there for this exact situation. I slide them on, and he watches my every move with a feral gleam in his eye. The wide, dimpled smile is still in place.
“What? Spit it out. What’s on your mind?” I ask. Even half naked I’m going to command authority.
He shakes his head, laughing now. “Nothing. I was just thinking we can call showering together done,” he says, facing me. He turns toward the mirror and slides a comb through his hair. “Check that zoo life experience off the list,” he mutters quietly.
I cock my head. “What do you mean by zoo life?”
He presses his lips into a firm line to stifle his laughter. I urge him on with a blazing look, my arms crossed underneath my breasts.
“You peed in front of me. In the shower. It kind of creeped me out,” he says, chancing a side eye glance in the mirror.
I sigh. “You peed in front of me first, Macs. Don’t be so weird.”
He slams an open palm down on the warm colored granite, again, the smile working its way across his face. He doesn’t meet my eyes when he responds. “My pee is a perfect straight stream.”
“And mine is what?” My face heats.
Now he has the good sense to turn his dimples down the counter. “Something out of National Geographic,” he whispers. “Like a zebra or a reindeer. When they pee at the zoo, you know? It looks all wild and wide and sloppy. No aim whatsoever. Like a dam being unclogged or a pipe bursting.”
I throw a hand over my mouth. I’m too amused and shocked to take offense. “How long were you thinking about that?”
He does this often. Has the perfect formulated response to stupid things most people don’t even register. Most times he keeps them to himself. He probably would have kept this whole comparison locked away in his twisted brain had I not asked for an explanation. He continues smiling.
“How long?” I ask again.
“Since the moment you opened stream in my presence,” he admits.
I shake my head, keeping my gaze locked on his guilty looking face. He peeks up at me through his envy worthy lashes, eyes slanted with happiness. He gives me a look that says. “Hey, you wanted to know.”
I nod, wiping the amusement from my face. �
��I suppose you wish I had a dick then? I’d be able to pee in a nice straight line. We could sword fight next time.”
Macs is holding his stomach, bent over, roaring with laughter.
“Better yet, we could pee at the same time and make it a game. Who can pee the farthest with the most accuracy?”
With happy tears streaming down his face he wraps his arms around me and pulls me against his warm, bare chest. “No. No. I like your zoo display. I do. I’ve never seen something so…wild before. That’s all.”
I’ll admit. I was peeing before I even realized what I was doing because it’s a habit.
I keep my arms pinned by my sides, still refusing to reciprocate his hug, but it gets harder and harder as every second passes. His skin is so hot and tinged with the musky scented bodywash it makes my mouth water. My cheek is pressed against his hard chest muscle, right on top of his solitary tattoo. It’s a dark blue inked portrait of a skeleton frog. It spans an entire pectoral muscle. He told me most SEALs have the tattoo, and it means a lot to him. I bring up one hand to trace the outline with my finger.
“You hurt my feelings,” I say, smiling because he can’t see it. Inside I’m wildly happy to see how happy he is right now. It’s a carefree nature I’ve never seen before. “Are you this nice every time you have sex?”
His body stiffens under my fingertips. I feel his chin come down to rest on the top of my head. “No,” he says, grudgingly.
“Was that a hard question or something?” I ask, confused.
He shakes his head on top of mine and clears his throat. “A simple question. A hard answer,” he replies.
I try to pull away to glimpse his face. My heart is thumping at a rapid pace. I try to bury the excitement at his confession because I’m not sure exactly what it means. “Explain,” I reply, knowing I could avoid this messy conversation by simply moving my hand lower and releasing the white, damp towel around his waist. I could make him forget everything in a matter of seconds. I could use all my skills, everything I’ve learned about pleasing a man, and he would be as good as putty in my hands, but selfishly, I want him to tell me what’s going through his mind right now.
“How was sex for you?” he asks.
“Amazing,” I reply. Perhaps it’s the way I’m going about asking. I’ll take his lead. “How was it for you?”
“Worth the wait,” he says. Finally, he leans away from me. “Fucking amazing. I want to fuck you again. And again. And I’m thinking about it right now even though you violated my shower.”
I huff. “You violated it first,” I say. “So we’re clear. I like your cock very much too. And the fact you know what you’re doing. I want to fuck you multiple times as well.” And I’m falling in love with you.
I tuck my fingers into the waistband of his towel. His dimples pop. Just one side, though. “Why was answering that question hard, Macs?” I use his name in hopes of getting his attention.
He sighs. “I thought I could fuck you out of my system.”
“I’m in your system?” I ask, grinning.
He shrugs. “And it looks like you’re staying there for the foreseeable future.” He shifts uncomfortably. I see the cost it takes to admit this to me. “If you want to be there.” There’s question in his gaze. He’s asking, even though he stated it as fact.
I put him out of his misery right away. “I want to be in your system. In fact, wait here,” I say, holding up one finger. I retrieve my cell phone from my bag, open the camera, and hand it to him. “Take a photo of me,” I command.
Macs quirks a brow and looks at me like I’m crazy.
“Just do it. Take a photo of me right now.”
He raises the phone up and focuses with a tap of the screen. I try to look innocent while topless, but sexy because I am wearing a black fucking thong. I smile softly, no teeth. He smiles at the screen as he watches me fidget to find a proper pose. He clicks the button a few times.
“Send the photo to yourself,” I say.
He doesn’t reply, but I can tell he’s going through the motions to send the photos, plural, to himself because his grin doesn’t fade a smidge. He hands me the phone back. I snap a quick photo of him, and he makes a move to duck out of the frame, but ends up smiling wider than he was before. I click the droolworthy photo and toss my phone in my bag.
“What was that about?” he asks, stroking my nipples in between his large fingers.
My body has become his. I can tell by the way he touches me. No one else has ever touched me with such reverence, with such appreciation.
“You’ve realized by now that photos mean different things,” I say, watching the muscles ripple in his arms. “That one you just took of me was the moment I knew I was falling for you.” I swallow. The words tasted dangerous, villainous—traitorous. I don’t back down from them. I face him head-on, bare of any pretenses.
His hands still on my chest, and I chance a glance up. His eyes are on my mouth. “Say that again. But look at me,” he whispers.
“I’m falling for you. Not because you’re an amazing fuck, either.” Adding humor to soften the emotional blow is a tactic I’m going to always use with Macs. He responds to that.
His face is stoic, completely unreadable. He doesn’t respond or reply to my sentiment. He leans down and kisses me so passionately, there’s no question he feels the same way. He holds me tenderly, like I’m a fragile doll expected to break any second if he doesn’t show me how he feels using his lips and his tongue. I see stars and fireworks and my stomach turns as my hands wander up his chest.
It’s not falling. In this moment I know it’s not. It’s love. And everyone is right. It feels like nothing else. Goosebumps prickle my skin and I’m aware of him and nothing else. The world vanishes around us and whatever our chemistry has transformed into. He picks me up and backs me into the wall. I lock my hands around his neck and meet his kiss head-on, telling him I know what he’s trying to explain without words. I’m hot and chilled to the bone. I’m terrified. He has all the power and I’m helpless to surrender. I clutch his hair in my hands now to intensify the kiss and to try for some control.
It’s a tugging match of power. He wants it. I want it. The common denominator is we both want it for the same reason. We know what power means. What it can destroy.
Everything.
Somewhere during our kiss he lost his towel and he’s fumbling in the bathroom drawer and comes away with a condom. He tears the package open with his mouth and has it rolled down his erection in mere seconds. I realize that’s a skill well practiced. My back is against the bathroom wall again as he fills me. He fucks me so hard he leaves his hands on either side of my shoulders flat against the wall and pins me and my weight with only his hips and dick.
It’s a quick, blissful pace, but he’s kissing me with the same passion as before. He chants my name like a prayer in between stealing my breath.
This time it’s quick and my orgasm takes me fast and hard. I slump over his shoulder when he comes, his cock buried as deep inside me as it will go. Minutes pass and we stay connected that way. Him holding me while I’m tangled around him. We end up back in his bed, under the covers.
I’m rolled onto my side, looking at him as he gazes back at me. He looks like he’s trying to figure me out. The feeling is mutual because from this angle, lying in bed with him, I want to know what it is about him, too. I trace the planes of his face with my fingers. He doesn’t take his hand off my hip and the side of my stomach.
“I’m glad you told me,” he says. His voice is creaky. Neither of us has spoken for what seems like forever.
My nail brushes over his bottom lip. It’s so full. “I didn’t know how you would respond. If I knew it would be with orgasms, I would have told you sooner.”
He offers a soft smile. “Consider me felled, Teala.”
I flick my gaze up to meet his. “Yeah?”
“I don’t say things without knowing for certain I meant them. Especially ones as significant as those. Le
t’s not label our feelings, though. Don’t call it something. Then it won’t be the same.”
Love. He won’t say it. And I’m so in shock right now, there’s no way I want to hear it anyways. This is what he’s saying without using the word. Isn’t that exactly what Carina told me? This indescribable feeling that’s different for everyone?
“I feel the same way,” I admit.
I’ve regained my composure enough to scoot toward him for a small kiss. Macs crushes me to his chest and kisses every place on my face he can fit his lips.
“You just became everything.”
“I can’t become something, Macs,” I say into the crook of his neck. “Especially everything.”
He sighs. “Tell that to my heart.”
My own heart leaps out of my chest. There’s no harried panic in his admission, just truth and it puts me at ease and I think this is the happiest I’ve ever felt. I relax against a man, in his bed, for the first time in my life. He falls asleep before I do, and he does call it something, because Macs sleep talks. He tells me he loves me four times before I fall asleep, wondering how many more times he can take my breath away with three simple words.
****
“I do a lot of things well, but cooking isn’t one of them,” Macs exclaims, standing in front of his new range with his hands on his hips.
It’s early. So early the sun hasn’t risen and the coolness of night still warps the air. I’m wearing one of his T-shirts that hits mid-thigh and no panties. We made love this morning. And I finally realized there was definitely a distinction between the two. Fucking is hard and selfish. It’s about orgasms and carnal desires—about slick openings and hard, throbbing cocks that taste like salted caramel. Making love is a completely different animal. It’s slow and thoughtful. Perhaps it’s best described as giving what you think you don’t own, and taking what you don’t think you deserve.
I ask him if he has plain oatmeal, and he looks pleased he does and sets off on his task to not fuck up oats for our breakfast. He tells me, sort of surprised, that oatmeal is his breakfast of choice too.
Hero Hair (The Real SEAL Series Book 2) Page 17
