Addicted (Ethan Frost #2)(59)

“Ethan, please. I need—” My words turn to dust in my mouth as he bends me over the railing and surges inside of me with one powerful thrust of his hips.

I whimper deep in my throat, probably would have screamed if I wasn’t worried about alerting the whole neighborhood to what we’re doing. It’s been less than twenty-four hours since he was inside of me, but that’s too long. Far too long. I need this. I need him, Ethan, inside of me, loving me, all the time. I need the power and the softness, the passion and the sweetness that is him. Again and again and again.

I try to speak, but my mouth is desert dry. There’s only enough thought, enough sanity left for the high, hungry sounds clawing their way out of my throat with each heavy slam of Ethan’s hips against my ass.

I reach behind him, rake my nails down his bare ass as I try to pull him even closer. “Harder,” I finally manage to form the word that’s been throbbing inside of me since the moment I first felt his fingers rubbing against my sex. “Please. Harder.”
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Ethan responds with more pressure, with harder thrusts until it almost feels like he’s ripping me apart. But it’s good, so good, and I don’t want him to stop. Not now. Not ever.

His left hand moves between my legs while his right one remains at the small of my back, pressing me forward for the best angle. He spreads me open, strokes the spot where we’re joined. Fireworks go off inside of me and I climb higher and higher, the need to orgasm growing with every second that passes.

“Come on, baby,” he murmurs, breath hot and heavy against my ear. “Come for me. Let me feel you.” He reaches for my clit then, strokes his thumb over it once, twice, a third time. That’s all it takes to break me open, to shatter me. I come, sobbing his name.

And still Ethan doesn’t stop. He rides me through the orgasm, his heavy body pounding into mine even as he continues to stroke my clit. Wave after wave of sensation crashes through me, weakening my knees and sending slivers of electricity to every part of me.

And then he’s sliding a hand under my tank top, rubbing my nipples through my bra. I’m so sensitive that it almost hurts even as it causes another wave of pleasure to crash through me. “I can’t,” I gasp, pushing at his hand. “No more.”

“There’s always more,” he tells me, squeezing my nipple between his thumb and index finger. “There has to be. You’re mine, Chloe. You’re mine and I’m never letting you go.”

He continues thrusting into me, even as he licks his tongue down the side of my neck. One of his hands is on my breast, the other is on my clit and I can feel another orgasm building inside me. This one is immense, terrifying, nearly painful in its intensity and there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to let go. That wants to stay right here, where it’s safe. Where I’m grounded and don’t have to worry about being adrift in the ocean of emotions Ethan calls forth from me.

But Ethan won’t have it. “Come on, Chloe. Give it to me. I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you, love. One more time. I swear, I’ve got you.”

He strokes my clit harder, faster, determined to bring me over. “I love it when you come. I love being inside of you when your muscles clench around me again and again.”

He bends his head to my shoulder, licks at the line of sweat that’s rolling down my shoulder blade. “I love the way your skin flushes and your mouth falls open. I love the way your nipples peak and your hips jerk against mine.” He skims his lips over my lobe, his tongue sweeping against the sensitive spot behind my ear as he continues to whisper to me, continues to drive me higher with his words and his body and his love. Always his love.

Tears are streaming down my face now, my body so far out of my control that I can’t imagine ever belonging to myself again. And in this moment, at this time, I can’t bring myself to care. Not with Ethan’s body moving feverishly inside mine. Not with his words ripping though me like lightning, inflaming me, taking me higher and higher with every breath that passes between us.

“I love the way you take me,” he tells me. “I love the way you give yourself to me so completely, the way you give and give and give. I love how you take all of me. How you tremble against me and beg for more.” His mouth fastens on the spot between my neck and shoulder, sucking ravenously.

“I love the way you look at me, like you don’t quite get me but are determined to figure me out. I love how brave you are. I love how strong you are, how you always get back up. I love how honest and open you are, with your body and your heart.”

He sucks hard against my neck, leaves another bruise, then soothes it with his tongue. His wicked, wonderful tongue.

“I love your body.” He thrusts into me again and again. “I love the softness of your skin, how it glows in the moonlight. I love connecting the dots of your freckles, making pictures on your thighs and stomach and shoulders.

“I love your breasts. I love the way they feel in my hands, round and soft and heavy.” His fingers move to my other breast, play with it, as well. “I love how hard your nipples get for me, love the way you always taste like sweet cream and honey. I love your eyes and how they always tell me what you’re thinking. I love the way you look at me. I love the way you’re always so open and honest, how you never try to hide yourself away from me.

“I love being inside you—” He gives an extra hard thrust for emphasis and it’s all I can do to breathe. “And I absolutely adore your ass.” One of his hands drifts between the globes of my ass, pressing against my anus until I’m seeing stars. And then he’s thrusting one long finger inside of me, slowly, carefully pressing deeper and deeper until I forget all the reasons I can’t scream and just let go.