In Rides Trouble (Black Knights Inc. #2)(63)

Yes, yes, yes, yes. The chant resumed its cadence inside his brain and pulling her fingers from around his cock was the hardest thing he’d ever done. But he somehow managed. Then he kissed the lush curve of her lower lip when she stuck it out, pouting like a child relieved of her favorite toy.

***

Becky was dying.

She wanted to rip off his jeans and impale herself on the smooth hardness she’d just held in her hands—it was either that or she was going to shimmy up his big body, wrap her legs around his head, and insist he wear her around like a government-issue gas mask. But he was determined to draw out the moment, to slow everything down when all she wanted was hard and fast and now, now, now!

Because they were there. Finally. After all the years of wanting and denying that wanting, they were finally grabbing onto each other with both hands. Literally.

Well, not quite literally. Frank could only use one hand, since the one in the sling was pretty much restrained from much wandering.

“Frank,” she moaned his name, “stop stalling.”

His deep chuckle was exhilarating given that it rumbled through her breasts where they pressed tightly against his chest. The sensation zinging across her nipples made her eyes cross.

Okay, so scratch the gas mask idea. She’d just straddle his chest while she tickled his ribs. That’d certainly work.

“I’m not stalling.” He ran his teeth down the column of her throat. “I’m trying to get a few facts straight.”

“Fact one,” she said and shivered when he sucked at the junction of her neck and shoulder, “I want you. Fact two, you want me. Fact three, I’m not fragile. I’m not going to break, so there’s no reason for you to worry you need to be careful or that you need to hold back.” Because, yeah, she could feel him against her, so big and hard and big. And she knew Frank, his mind was going to be making sure she was okay, that he didn’t do anything to hurt her or scare her or make her uncomfortable.

And that just wasn’t going to work.

She didn’t want him holding back, staying in control, reining in his lust.

She wanted him. She wanted sex. No-holds-barred sex.

She tried to convey this by grabbing his ears and reclaiming his mouth, by boldly reaching between them to caress him.

God, she couldn’t help but moan at the contact, he was so hot and smooth and pulsing and so completely, utterly male…

She dipped her chin in order to look at him there, spearing unapologetically from the V of his undone jeans.

Well, hello.

Okay, so Frank’s goods were…fearsome. Long and thick, violently red and rock hard. The veins roping up the length of him stood out in harsh relief, the head broad and weeping.

She went to her knees then. It’s all she could suddenly think about. Tasting him, getting her mouth around—

“I’ll never make it,” he growled, grabbing her shoulder and hoisting her up against his chest, slamming his mouth over the top of hers until the only thing she knew was him, his hands and skin, teeth and tongue, the hot, spicy smell of hungry man filling her flaring nostrils.

He was backing her up, edging her toward the bed, and when the back of her knees hit the mattress she grabbed his waist and twisted until it was him who fell backward onto the bed.

With his shoulder confined to the sling, she didn’t want him straining to hold himself above her. All she wanted was for him to feel, because she knew for a fact, that’s all she was going to be doing.

***

Just look at her, Frank thought as he lay back on the bed, watching her through heavy lidded eyes as she grabbed the waistband of his jeans, pulling them down over his thighs, whipping them off his feet, tossing them over her shoulder. She looks like a huntress claiming a kill.

So fierce and proud and determined. So unapologetically female with her slim, smooth limbs, tiny little waist and flaring hips.

“Becky, please just tell me what you want. Tell me what to do to make you feel good.” The last two words came out as a strangled growl, because she’d dropped a knee to the mattress and started climbing on top of him.

For a brief moment, he was filled with doubt. Wondering if what he was doing was right. The answer, of course, was no, but, then again, just how wrong was it?

Not very, because, number one, she wanted this. She’d said as much. And number two, she’d grabbed his hand and pressed it between her legs.

It was the only kind of answer she gave him. The only kind he needed really, because yes, what he felt against his fingers was so soft and smooth and warm.

It was also soaking wet.

She was wet for him. For this. For whatever he could give her and, baby, he was determined to give her everything.

Now.

No more stalling.

He watched her face as he slid first one finger and then another inside her, watched a blush of heat rise from her breasts to her throat to her cheeks, watched as she licked her lips then caught the lower one between her teeth.

She was everything a woman should be. Hot and wet and wonderful. Abandoned as she raised her own hands to her breasts and lightly pinched at the hardened nipples.

The sight went all through him, making his hungry dick jump up and down against his belly, like it was shouting, “look at me, look at me, look at me!” She caught the movement and reached down to stroke him, softly, lazily.

She moaned at the same time he did, arching her back and opening her legs wider. With his thumb, he located the little pearl at the top of her sex. Rubbing against it, he watched, fascinated, as her color deepened.