“You are.”
“I’m not so good, Crow. And I don’t want to be good all the time anymore.” I pulled his face against me. “I’m okay being…not so good.”
He resisted. Gazed up at me. “Tell me no.” He sounded like he was pleading with me, in a weird way.
Like, if I let him do this, he’d be totally unable to resist me. To stop himself from taking all of me. As if that scared him, and he wanted me to stop him, so he wouldn’t fall any further into…
Whatever this terrifying thing was.
I shook my head. “Crow, I…” I thrust my hips against his face, begging for what he could make me feel.
He growled. “Dammit, woman.” He slid his tongue up my seam. Hot, wet, slithery, incredible. “Told you I can’t resist you. Been trying. Had a fuckin’ hard-on from hell all goddamn day, lookin’ at you, wanting you, needing you. Wanting to bury my cock so deep inside you you’ll…you’ll fuckin’ taste me from the inside. Trying to be good, for you. To give you the experience you deserve.”
“What is it you think I deserve, Crow?” I played with his hair, scraping fingernails against his scalp, feathering them through his hair, over the upper shells of his ears.
He murmured a wordless sound in his throat, as if my fingers in his hair was the best thing since…well, since my mouth on his cock, this morning. “Shit, woman, you deserve a palace. Roses. Champagne. A limo to a five-star hotel. Room service. Candles, fuckin’ Mozart or whatever. Beethoven, some soft romantic classical bullshit. A big white bed, and me takin’ hours to show you what it’s like to be fuckin’ worshipped like the goddess you are. That’s what you deserve.”
“That sounds nice.”
“Yeah, so—”
“I’m here.” I palmed his cheeks. Wiggled my foot out of my shoe and then yanked my leg out of my legging and slung my naked thigh over his shoulder. “I’m here, Crow. With you. In this bathroom, in this dirty fucking dive bar. I’m here, with you, and I want this.”
He peered up at me. “Why?”
“Hell if I know, but I do. And I’m not going anywhere.” I knotted my fingers in his hair. “Not until you make me scream.”
“Fuckin’ hell, woman,” he snarled, exasperated. “You’re crazy.”
“Yeah, I realize that.”
He licked me again, this time pausing at the very top of my sex to nudge my clit with his tongue. Then he circled it slowly, until I gasped. “You understand there’s no fuckin’ chance of this being over till I’m inside you, right?”
I whimpered. “Yes.” I watched him press his tongue to me, stiffen it and slide it into me. “Please?”
“Please what?”
“You. Inside me. Please.” I was, suddenly, incapable of coherency. “Now.”
He slithered his tongue over me, in me, through me, and when I began to flex my hips and gasp, he added a finger. And then two. And then three, in a triangle, inside me, slicking them inside me where I wanted him.
It was quick—I was always quick to the first one, especially when he spent more than enough time building me up, backing me away and then driving me to the edge again. I ground myself against him, thigh around his neck and shoulder, writhing against him—or trying to, awkwardly, with one foot on the floor.
He withdrew his fingers from me, hooked his arms under my knees, and without warning lifted me, sitting on his shoulders, and stood up. Slammed me up against the door—I braced my hands on the low ceiling and screamed, thrusting against him wildly now as he devoured me to the edge and beyond, not stopping when I climaxed, but going past it. Tasting me and thrashing me with his tongue until I was shaking and pushing against his mouth and up against the ceiling and screaming through gritted teeth, coming and coming and coming so hard I saw stars flash in front of my tight-shut eyes.
And then, when I was quivering and boneless, he let my thighs slide off his shoulders, caught me, and settled me on the floor. My legs gave out, so I held onto him—catching at his belt.
“How convenient,” I murmured, my knees shaking even as my core begged for more…or no more, I wasn’t sure which.
I unbuckled him, unzipped, unbuttoned. Different underwear. Different black jeans, for that matter, but same leather biker cut. Yanked his underwear away from his body and down, past his surging, straining cock. Shoved them down. Fondled him in my fists, both of them plunging down to circle and twist at his base.
“Fuck, fuck Charlie—slow down. Do that much more and this’ll be over before it starts. On a hair fuckin’ trigger right now, babe.”
“I don’t care, Crow. I just need you.”
He reached down to his sagging jeans. Fished two fingers into his right hip pocket and produced a condom. “Shoved this in there before we left, hoping for…well, the plan was a hotel bed, but here we are.”
I took it from him. “Here we are.”
He was concentrating, focused hard as I caressed his length with one hand and stuck the condom wrapper in my teeth with the other. Ripped it open, withdrew the ring of latex. Rolled it onto him.
He palmed my ass, cradling it. “You can still tell me no, Charlie.”
I clutched his hardness in one hand and his neck in the other, pulled him in for a kiss. “Not going to. Don’t want to.” Another kiss. “Can’t. I need this too bad, baby.”
His eyes met mine, darkening, deepening. “Baby.”
“That okay?”
The sharp line at the bridge of his nose sharpened. “Never been called baby.”
My heart did something funny, at that. “Baby.” I scratched the stubble on his cheek. “Quit stalling and drill me.”
He snarled. Began to lift me, two hands on my ass. “Wait. One thing, first.”
I started to question him, but he was too fast. He pushed the leather jacket off my shoulders and let it fall to the floor, ripped my shirt up and off so fast my breasts ached from the sudden bounce. Bare, now, my nipples went harder yet.
“That’s better,” he growled. “Need to see those big juicy tits bounce when I fuck you, babe.”
And then he lifted me, pulled my legs around his waist. I reached between us and fit him into me. Then clung to his neck.
He pushed, a gentle flex of his hips. “Ready, Charlie?”
I shook my head. “No way I’m ready for this.” I let go of his neck a little, pushing my ass downward, to take him. “Don’t let that stop you.”
And ohhhhh god, oh god. I was not ready. Not for the aching burn of taking him, all of his many thick inches. I groaned raggedly as he filled me, shuddering all over with a kind of pain that was delicious and beautiful and raw all at once, the burn of stretching around an unbelievably, improbably huge cock. Which just filled me and filled me, and kept filling me. Until I was glutted on him, overwhelmed, crying with confused bliss at the sensation—so much more than I had imagined it possible to feel, and so much better.
I clung to him. Shuddered. Pressed my lips to his ear. I wanted to scream, but I was too breathless at the feel of him. “Crow.”
He groaned, equally as raggedly as I had. “Fuck, ohhhh fuck, Charlie. Fuck, you’re so tight.” He adjusted his grip on my ass, lifting me, pressing me up against the door. “Hurting you?”
“No,” I breathed. And then he pulled back, and I cried out. “Yes, but it’s good.”
“Tell me if I gotta stop.”
“Slow, just…go slow. Till I get used to you.” I had to bite his neck to keep from sobbing—we’d just started and I didn’t want to sob yet. “Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, Crow, you’re so fucking huge.”
He laughed. “Not gonna lie, I really like how you say that.”
I wanted to laugh, tried, but it came out as a half moan, half laugh. “Like you…oh god––like you don’t know your cock is enormous, Crow.” I planted my forehead against his, gasping. “It’s how you use it that…oh my fucking god—that’s killing me.”
He was doing something slow and hard, somehow managing to move slowly and carefully but still
forcefully. And then a little faster.
And then slower.
And then the pain of accepting him was gone, and all I had within me was raw ravenous burning need.
I raked my hands down his chest. Nipped his ear. “Crow?”
He pushed in, then when he was seated deep, throbbing within me, he leaned backward to gaze into my eyes. “Yeah? You okay?”
So worried for me. So sweet.
“Now.”
He frowned. “Now?”
“You. Me. More—now. More, now, please.”
I couldn’t formulate sentences. Had to show him.
I lifted, pulling on his shoulders to rise up, my thighs clamped around his waist. I kept my eyes on his, mine wide and frantic for more, his deep dark brown and primal and raw with aggressive sexuality.
When I couldn’t rise anymore without losing him inside me, I sank down.
Hard. Felt him fill me with a slap of bodies meeting, and the sensation of taking all of him so suddenly split me apart with delirious ecstasy, and I screamed.
“Awww fuck, Charlie…” he snarled. “Tryin’ to hold back so I don’t I nail you to the fuckin’ wall.”
I dug my fingers into his chest, let him see the need in me, rose and sank again, and again, faster, harder, using all my body, all my power, to show him. I clamped down with my inner muscles as I took him all the way, squeezed around him as hard as I could.
He let out a growl, then. Something I’d never heard—a release of desperation. Giving in, utterly abandoning himself to his deepest need.
“Hold the fuck on, Charlie-girl,” he whispered, a ragged sound.
I clung to his neck and clenched my thighs around his hard wedge of a waist, and he once again adjusted his grip on my ass cheeks, this time so he could pull them apart and get deeper. Hunched over me, he took a mouthful of my breast and sucked, nipped, tongued my nipple, and then…
He showed me what I’ve been missing my whole life.
Raw masculine abandon.
Testosterone-fueled sexual aggression.
Mastery over my body.
He pounded into me, his powerful glute muscles driving him up into me, slamming me into the door, driving up onto his toes to get as deep and as hard as he could. I screamed in surprised bliss, crashing against the door and writhing, trying to match him, but all I could do, I realized, was hang on and take what he had to give me. The door slammed against the frame, hard, loud, banging as he fucked me.
Pulling out slowly, he paused. And then he fucked me hard, so I slammed back against the door again, harder than the last time, yet I felt only him, only us, not the crash of my head and back against the door. Again, and again, he drove into me, each time harder and faster than the last. His face was buried between my breasts, and his breath on them was frantic, ragged, moaning. Each stroke of his cock into me hit something inside me, touched some nerve, sent me flying higher and higher and higher, made me cry out louder and louder, more and more frantic, desperate.
I felt myself reaching another edge, felt it like a tsunami within me. “Crow—”
He tilted his gaze up to mine.
“I—oh, god, Crow, baby, oh god, oh god—” I crushed his face in my hands and tried to kiss him through the pounding merge of our bodies, “don’t stop, just like this—oh yes, god yes, now, Crow, look at me, look at me, I’m coming Crow, look at me while I come—”
He snarled and groaned, and thrust into me as I came apart, breaking into sobs all over him as he drove me to an orgasm I could not even begin to cope with, too much of everything to process the wild rush of mind-bending purity.
I felt us moving.
Felt him lower me.
Pull out.
I opened my eyes. “Wha—? Crow?”
I was facing a mirror, dirty, spotted. A sink, chipped porcelain, pitted chrome handles. He was behind me, huge and powerful, a dark avenging angel bent on my destruction. He reached between my thighs and touched me, found my slit. Fit himself to my opening, and slid in. Drove in, possessing me utterly as he filled me.
My legs didn’t work; I didn’t need them to—I was held up by him, by his hands around my hips and his cock inside me.
He gathered my complicated braid in his hands. Yanked the elastic band free and made quick work of shaking the braid loose. My hair cascaded in a thick glossy waterfall of black down my shoulders, my back, down to the top of my ass.
“Goddamn, Charlie. You have a lot of fuckin’ hair.” He gathered it in his fists, bunched and wrapped it around one hand.
“Never cut it. Not more than an inch or two to trim it,” I murmured.
“Like it loose like this.”
“In the way, most of the time. Pain in the ass.”
He wasn’t moving—not to fuck me, at least. His hand, the one not gripping my hair, was caressing my body, shoulders, back, spine, sides. Down to my ass, patting one cheek, then the other.
Back to my shoulders, pressed his palm between my shoulder blades, a gentle pressure. “Bend over, sweetheart.”
I slid my feet wide apart and bent forward, hands on the sink, gripping the sides. I looked at him in the mirror—like this, I could see us. Both of us. Me, my tits swaying and my hair loose and crazy around my face and back and shoulders, caught up in his hands to pile it on my head and still spilling everywhere. Him, huge and sun-bronzed, hard-muscled, lean, heavy stubble on his angular jaw, eyes burning, hair messy. My ass spread out, round, his hips sharp angles behind my curves, framing my spread-out ass.
I looked…sultry. Erotic. My cheeks were flushed. Spine curved and sinuous, generous heart-shape of my ass and pale skin in contrast to his darker flesh. My breasts hung heavy under me, swaying, nipples hard. I had never seen anything so erotic in my life. I felt a level of sensuality I had never felt before and I wanted more.
“Touch your pussy, Charlie. Want you to come again before I do.” His words reverberated, low and growled.
BAM-BAM-BAM. A fist on the door. “Gotta piss, man.”
“Fuck off.” Crow’s voice was a bark of command.
Nothing else from the other side of the door.
“Where was I?” He ran his empty hand down my spine, to my ass. “Oh yeah.”
I braced one hand on the sink. Slid the other between my thighs, found my clit. Touched it, circled it. A single touch, one soft swipe of fingertip around the turgid little nub, and I was flying, core squeezing, fluttering, gut flipping and tightening, thighs shaking. “Crow…”
He pulled back, eyes meeting mine in the mirror. Slow, gentle. Letting me get reacquainted with him. “Charlie.”
I felt my fingers working faster, now, moving of their own accord, and my hips followed suit, flexing, tipping, swiveling. He began matching my rhythm, pushing into me faster and faster as I built myself up to climax.
I watched myself in the mirror—watched my mouth drop open, eyes go wide. Watched my tits sway back and forth as I melted into his thrusts, met him with my own. Watched my ass smash back into his hips, watched the way my ass jiggled as I met his body.
God, I was sexy.
Him, fucking me—that was sexy.
He was sexy.
But I was…I was a goddess. Made for sex. I was made for Crow, for him fucking me.
I let a loud cry slice out of me, let my groan become a scream as intensity built, as my hips pivoted and my ass pushed backward into Crow. He grunted, feeling me tense, feeling me use my inner muscles to clench around him as my climax built to a crescendo.
“Charlie, fuck—I feel you comin’, baby.”
“I’m coming, Crow, I’m coming again.”
“I feel it. Feel you squeezing me.”
I clenched hard again. “Like this?” I lost the ability to control it, then, as the climax took over, and I felt myself just spasming, squeezing. “Ohh fuck!”
“Come for me, Charlie!” he snarled. “Love the way you come all over my cock, baby girl.”
I lost all thread of control then, and just let go. I
screamed, tears running down my cheeks, slamming back against him, shaking all over.
And then he was roaring, and his hand in my hair tightened, yanked. Hard, a twinge of pain, but just enough to make the orgasm I was still lost in all the more powerful.
Especially when he stopped matching my rhythm and gave me his own. “My turn.”
I met his eyes, and felt my whole body shiver, felt goose bumps all over my body at the look on his face. “Oh fuck…yes please.”
He laughed, a low rumble of amusement. And then he powered into me.
My tits bounced hard enough to ache. And that made something I thought was overtaxed within me spark all over again.
He didn’t pull back slowly or gently this time. Oh no. A quick backward movement, and then he yanked my hair again to pull me backward, and his huge throbbing cock drilled into me, and at the moment he filled me totally, and his hard hips met my ass with a loud slap, his empty hand cracked across my ass cheek, stinging it, making me shriek—
And making that spark conflagrate into a wildfire of another—yes, another imminent orgasm. How many could I have? Jesus, so many.
Backward, and this time I was ready. Or I thought I was.
I wasn’t ready.
He fucked me, yanking my hair, and spanking my other cheek, and now both stung, warm. Again––thrust-yank-spank.
Faster, now. He spanked my ass with each thrust, hard, alternating, until my ass was throbbing with the hot sting, and that only built the fire of my orgasm, and this one threatened—promised—to be the most intense, body-ripping, soul-melting one yet. Building slowly, in exponential degrees, the shaking and quaking and the heat and the tightness and the wild insane mind-scrambling nerve-shredding desperate ecstasy more than I thought a human body was capable of feeling.
And I was watching him do it to me.
Watching my body respond. Watching my tits bounce and sway under me, watching his hand rise, pause at the top, and swing down to slap across my ass, watching my ass ripple with the impact, watching myself lurch forward, eyes wide and mouth open, skin going flushed crimson all over with sweaty exertion.
Not So Goode Page 18
