Dirty Rowdy Thing (Wild Seasons, #2)(24)

“Has anyone ever spanked you, Ginger Snap?”

She shakes her head against my pillow, loose strands of dark hair following the arch of her back.

“Only you.”

I try not to think too much about the spark of pride I feel when she says this, and attempt to tamp down the curl of possessive heat in my stomach. “You want this?” I ask.

She nods, but it’s not what I need, and I slice my hand upward through the air, landing with a quick smack on her backside, just enough to get her attention.

“Say it, Harlow.”

“Y-yes,” she says. “Yes.”

I do it again, my palm connecting with her skin, a little harder this time.

Harlow gasps, her fist closed tight around the sheets, and she arches her hips, pushing back toward me. Wanting more.

“Didn’t I tell you I’d give you what you need?” I say, and bring my hand down again, on the other side. The sound she makes is louder this time, more desperate. I spank her a few more times, just until her skin is warm and pink, and she moans as I soothe the flushed skin with my palm. I wonder if she’s ever thought about this kind of thing before, had any idea how much she’d like it.

There’s no doubt Harlow Vega gets off on a little manhandling, or that I very much enjoy being the one to do it. There’s just something so hot about the way she lets me. She knows she could take control at any moment, but I’m sensing that she doesn’t want to. I’m sensing that maybe she needs someone else to lead right now.

By the tenth spanking, Harlow is wet down her thighs, and I’m not sure I’ve ever been harder. Her hand has disappeared between her legs, fingers slipping over the slick skin.

“You do like it,” I say. “Feel that.” I lean forward, touch where she’s working herself over. My fingers push in alongside hers and f*ck. I need a condom right now.

Straightening, I reach for the box I’d hastily tossed into the dresser drawer. Harlow moves to her back and watches, eyes fixed to where I slide the condom down and over my dick.

I climb over her, lifting her arms above her head, helping her reach for the bed frame. “Keep them here, okay?”

She nods, and I see the way she tightens her grip, knuckles turning white with the effort.

I press the head of my cock against her, moving it back and forth before beginning to push in.

“Think you can be quiet?” I ask, gauging her expression as I continue to move. “Oliver could come home anytime. You need to be quiet. Okay?”

She looks down the length of her body, where my palm slides over her skin, and nods.

I reach for the pillow next to her head and lift her hips to position it just beneath her ass. “That’s right,” I say, pressing deeper and deeper, watching as I disappear entirely inside her.

Her teeth bite into her bottom lip and she moans around it. I shush her gently. “Look so good like this,” I tell her, watching her breasts bounce with each snap of my hips. I place my hand on her sternum to hold her down, and admire the color of my skin against hers, tan and rough against golden softness. A rough engine sounds outside and I recognize Oliver’s car, hear it move up the street and pull into the driveway.

Harlow’s little gasps are still too loud, and so I reach near her hip for her panties, ball them up in my fist, and, after I kiss her on the lips, I stuff them into her mouth.

Her eyes close like she’s grateful, and she moans around it—and it’s enough that I nearly come.

“I said quiet, Ginger Snap.” I spread her legs even more. I tilt her hips in a way that my pelvis doesn’t rub against her clit while I f*ck her.

And again, she moans, a deep, desperate sound that makes me f*ck into her harder, wanting to make her do it again.

“You definitely like this,” I whisper into her ear. “I bet you think I won’t be able to stop thinking about this later, how wet you’re getting my cock.” I suck along her neck, careful to leave the skin red, but not marked. “Can you tell I like it, too? You nearly made me come before I was good and ready.”

She groans around the fabric and presses her knees to my waist, using the leverage to bring me closer, harder.

“I wonder if you’ll get wetter?” I say. “Should we see if I can make you wetter when you come?”

She nods urgently.

I can hear Oliver outside, laughing and shouting something over to a neighbor. I hitch Harlow’s leg up higher and reach down, smacking her ass again. She cries out, clenching around me. Her skin is flushed, her nipples hard and goose bumps spread along her skin.

“He’ll be inside any second. Do you think you can be quiet? I can make it so good for you if you can.”

She nods and I f*ck her harder, my arms shaking, neck corded and tense as I hold myself back. I see the moment it happens: Harlow’s eyes widen before they close again, a tear slipping down her cheek as she struggles not to make a noise.

It’s enough to send me spiraling after her. I lean down, nearly bending her in half with my thrusts —just one more time before I’m coming and have to muffle my sounds against her skin.

When I can move, when my heart doesn’t feel like it might burst out of my chest, I push up, slipping out of her carefully before tying off the condom. I take her in my arms, kissing her fingers, her wrists, the corners of her mouth.

“You did so good.” I press my lips to her shoulder, drag my nose up her neck, and growl in her ear.