No Perfect Hero(64)

Holyyy hell. Here we go.

I press my knuckles to my mouth, biting back a whimper.

It’s nothing compared to the cry that builds in my throat as he nudges into me, slipping the very first inch of his cock inside, stretching me open in a way I’ve never been stretched before.

I'm coming unglued, floating in the sweet madness of this, and I reach for him.

He comes to me so willingly, enveloping me in his arms, making me safe.

Making me his.

There's no mistake as he captures my mouth again, kisses me deeper, draws me into him until there's Warren Ford and nothing else.

He slides deeper, reshaping my body to fit his, showing me pleasure unlike anything I’ve ever known.

It’s not something he’s doing to me.

It’s not something I’m riding through alone.

It’s us. Him and me.

Together, moving as one, as he surges slow and deep, kissing me with a rapt and wondering reverence, turning all the violence and wildness between us into something sacred and hot and so flipping total.

My body feels like an extension of his, and his like part of mine. And I give myself up to him completely as this beautiful, wild beast-man arches and gives me all of his strength, his back shuddering under my fingers.

It shouldn’t feel like this with a near-stranger. Sparks shouldn't become entire galaxies. We shouldn't be gasping together, arms and legs entangled, my ass pressed deep into the mattress as his thrusts bury me alive.

But Warren’s more to me than a stranger. More than a chain of crazy, incredible, pussy-claiming thrusts.

And as he pushes me harder, higher, deeper, I just know I'm going to fall so hard.

Eddy? Did he even exist?

I barely remember his name as I gasp out “Warren!”

Then I clutch around him, cracking apart in shotgun bursts of white light and hot tension and flooding sweetness.

His pubic bone grinds my clit as he sends me over the edge; a screaming, clutching, breathless mess too on fire to even call his name again.

Coming!

It's like a full body lick. It's like a pillow of fire, a bead in my brain, an electric hum that starts in my pussy and explodes up the long, singed fuses of my nerves.

I'm coming with a sweetness and an insanity I never even knew. And it doesn't stop as his hips pick up, thrusting even harder, testing the entire bed.

I halfway wonder if we'll go crashing right through the floor as my thighs tense again. My nails dig into his back and my teeth hit my lip.

Holy hell doesn't work anymore. More like holy freaking Warren.

“Goddamn, darlin'. Don't you stop. Not till I fill that sweet little pussy up.”

I'm clenching so hard I could break, hugging his thrusting, manic thickness. It brings us off together, a roar exploding up his throat, then a scorching wave of fire pumping in my depths.

All his seed. All his flame. All him, him, beautifully him.

God, this was reckless. This was impulsive. This was probably the worst thing I could've done when I’m so fragile, so confused, so vulnerable.

And I don’t regret it one bit, even as he holds himself in me for what seems like forever, spilling every last bit until I overflow with our slick, steaming heat.

I take his slow, hungry tongue again and savor every second of him falling apart, trembling and snarling and stealing new moans from my lips with deep, thrusting kisses.

We're such broken, pent-up people, but this time is different.

This time we break together.





12





Taking Over (Warren)





Of all the bad decisions I’ve ever made in my life, this has to be the worst.

And I don’t regret it in the slightest.

I definitely don't regret fucking her three more times till we have to stop before our hearts give out.

Hay comes so many times I've lost track, the last time with her bent over, her hair in my fist, my hand crashing against her ass as she engulfs my cock, sucking my balls damn near dry.

Fuck.

Now she's soft and warm against me, tucked against my body with her curves practically flowing into me to fill all the spaces and hollows in my body. I can still feel that throbbing warmth inside her, even though we’ve disentangled to curl into each other and my cock is spent and sore. Can't forget the way she shivered under me, held fast to me, the burn of her nails still in my back.

Hell, I haven’t had sex like that in...ever?

It's a wild possibility.

And what’s got me fucked up is how deep this feeling is inside me. Like if I let it, this could turn into something. Me, her, I don’t know what.

But goddamn does she make me feel everything in spades.

Anger, passion, possessiveness.

Desire. Warmth. Laughter.

Even when she’s pissing me off, she just soothes something inside me, because she’s like me. All temper and wildcat fury until she calms down and then it’s just steadiness and strength.

That’s what I admire so much about her, I think.

She’s strong.

So damn determined to take care of Tara, herself, and everybody else.

And that just makes me want to protect her that much more.

From the world. From her past. From all the harsh bullshit life hacks up.

But most of all, from that chicken-necked weasel ex of hers.