Ultimate Weapon (McClouds & Friends #6)(86)

“We have a problem,” he told her. “I need my hands to get a condom on, but if I let go of you, you’ll rip out my throat.”

“Hah. Sounds like it’s your problem, not mine,” she informed him.

“Not at all. My solution to the problem is simple.” He grabbed his aching, throbbing cock, and nudged it inside her.

She was slick, swollen, and taut, with no latex to dull the amazing heat of her. He drove forward in one long, lunging thrust, and could have died from delight from this moment. It was worth every blow, every slap, every scratch. Every last insult.

She gasped and went still. “Wait! That’s no solution!”

“I have no diseases,” he assured her. “I am always careful, and I am tested regularly.”

“Me, too, but that’s not the problem,” she said. “I’m not using contraception.”

He was startled. “Ah. I see.”

“So get out of me. I do not want a baby from you.”

He tried to withdraw, but his body played tricks on him. He just found himself gliding deeper, rubbing, rocking. Just once…and then once more. “I won’t come inside you,” he promised. “Just a few strokes…in…and out, like this.” He lunged deep, twisting his rod.

Tamar caught her breath and arched, shoving her hips back to take more of him. She bit her flushed red lips and clutched his chest, her nails digging deep. “All it takes is one! And I don’t trust a man to have that kind of self-control. I don’t trust men for anything. So get out of me!”

He tilted his eyebrow. “You may be amazed to hear it, but I have noticed this lack of trust,” he said wryly.

“And? So?” Her bright eyes challenged him.

“So? I must prove you wrong. I will do as you ask.” He pulled out, regretting every clinging, caressing millimeter of sweet connection he was losing. “You cannot imagine what this galanterie is costing me.”

“Poor baby.” She sat up, coiling herself into a siren’s pose.

He rummaged for the condom, whipped the thing on and advanced on her, his erection jutting urgently before him.

“Do not tell me I must start from zero once again,” he begged.

The smile she gave him was razor sharp. “What makes you think you’ve racked up any points at all?”

Savage frustration flared inside him. He breathed it down with great difficulty “You will not give in to me for one single instant, no? No matter how much you want to.”

Her taunting smile faded, and for a brief, naked instant, he saw something in her eyes, something frantic and lost, like a trapped animal. “I can’t,” she said starkly. “I just…can’t.”

He was taken aback. The confession moved him, though it maddened him, too. He sensed her need, her frustration. The aching tension. Steel cables strung so tight they hummed from the strain.

He’d never wanted so badly to be tender to a woman, and he had never met a woman so desperately in need of tenderness. But it was unbearable to her. She simply could not tolerate it. Yet.

Until she could, he would just close his eyes, take a deep breath, and follow his instincts.

“Then don’t,” he said. He lunged for the bed.

She spun, trying to scramble away. She let out a startled grunt as he landed on top of her. All his weight. There would be no escape from the pleasure he meant to inflict upon her.

His hand slid down, caressing her trembling ass cheeks, sliding lower. Playing with her tender folds. Silken smooth, hairless, perfect. He tongued and kissed the back of her neck, her trembling spine as he pinned her flat, immobile, and played with her clit, her juicy cunt.

When her first climax wrenched through her, he savored the powerful, clutching pulses, her hitching, gasping breath, and then waited for the insults, the verbal slaps.

They did not come. She buried her face in the bedclothes, and shook. Wordless.

He forced his cock inside while tremors still rippled through her. When she caught her breath and raised her head, he was seated deep within, rocking slowly in that tight, gliding sheath. Waiting for a cue.

“Someday, you will let me be gentle with you,” he said.

Her hair swung as she shook her head in negation. “Don’t hold your breath,” she said jerkily. “I can’t even be gentle with myself.”

“I am patient,” he told her. “I can wait.”

“Shut up. Get to work, Val,” she snapped. “You talk too much.”

There was his signal. She rocked back to take in more of him.

He meant to give her everything he had to give, all the power and control, the technique, but something snapped, and they spun out of control together, heaving and bucking against each other, dripping with sweat. He held her in a grip that would leave bruises. She clutched handfuls of sheets with white-knuckled fingers. She did not fight him.

The danger zone, terrifying and wild and wonderful.

She looked over her shoulder. “Turn me over,” she demanded, panting. “I want to see your face. I want to see if you’re for real.”

“Of course I am.” He didn’t even question the truth of those words before they burst out. He pulled out, flipped her over, folding her legs wide to stare at the perfect pink flower of her *. She was so flexible, elastic as a dancer. Her skin, soft as a fine new leaf unfurling. Every curve and hollow astonished his eyes.