Chaos and Control(80)
“I wanted our first time to be slow, so I could memorize every inch of you,” he says against my lips. Preston’s tongue slides between my lips and tastes me before retreating again. “But this is not going to be soft or slow.”
“Good,” I answer, challenging him. I take his lower lip between my teeth and pull on it. He moans and shifts his denim-covered crotch against where I want him most.
Preston grabs his wallet from his back pocket, pulls out a condom, and places it on the bench. I raise an eyebrow, and he shrugs.
He lowers his zipper and pushes down his jeans and boxer briefs in one move. I chew my lip as I watch him roll on the condom and stroke himself twice. I recall the feel of him in my hand all hard and soft skin.
A new song plays through the speakers. It is fast-paced and hard-hitting, a challenge. Preston places himself against me before looking into my eyes. I nod, and he pushes inside. I try to keep my eyes open, because his face in this moment is breathtaking. But the pleasure radiating from my center makes me lose that battle. He holds still and places kisses along my jaw down one side of my neck and then up the other. I grin when I realize it’s three kisses on each side, a total of six on Wednesdays.
“Wrap your legs around me, Wren.” His voice is more rough than usual, and it stirs the tingling sensation inside me. I follow his instructions, gripping his body between my trembling legs.
His fingers ghost across my ribs down to my pubic bone. He follows the patterns and lines of my tattoo. When Preston begins to move against me, my eyes pop open. His face is inches from mine, his brow furrowed low, a concentrated pout on his lips. Those gray eyes connect with mine, and his rhythm increases. The bench beneath me creaks and rocks with each thrust of his hips, the tools shaking and rattling from the force. It all adds to the sexual melody of our exchanged whimpers and sighs.
My shoulders ache from being tied up, but it is a delicious ache that reminds me that I belong to Preston and no one else. He is beautiful in his control, his tics almost nonexistent in this perfect moment between us. Preston presses his hands to mine against the wall and my fingers curl around them. His hips continue pushing against me and pulling away in a punishing pace. I dig my heels in to the back of his thighs, encouraging his movements.
“She is flawless in her passion.”
“Preston,” I whisper. “Yes.”
“Imperfect in her love.”
His hair falls into his face, and he ignores it. My lip is between my teeth in an effort to control my cries. There is a swirling, building wave of heat inside me. My fingers and toes tingle with prickling numbness. Preston slides his hands out of mine, running them down my arms and over my breasts, where he pinches and tugs on my nipples. I scream his name and try to meet him thrust for thrust, feeling myself so close to the edge. One of his hands drifts down to my hip while the other cups my jaw before he places two kisses on the corner of my lips, his pattern be damned. His thumb pulls my lip from between my teeth, slides down my chin, between my breasts and over my stomach before pressing against my clit.
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” I say on each breath.
“She commands my universe.”
My back arches as my orgasm rips through me. I scream as white lights dance beneath my closed eyes and every nerve in my body sings. My insides explode and melt into each other, making me feel soft and warm. I am lost to the sensation of Preston filling me again and again. Gasping for air, I open my eyes just in time to see him press into me and freeze. Every muscle goes rigid as his eyes squeeze shut and his lips part to breathe my name. Both hands wrap around my hips and hold me against his body.
I kiss him with everything I have. Every good, bad, and dirty emotion pours from my soul into his. I need him to know how much he means to me. I need him to feel the depth of what we have. When he pulls back and looks into my eyes, I know he does. Preston steps away, and I am empty and chilled from the cooling sweat on my skin.
I watch as he removes the condom, ties off the end and tosses it into the trash can. He pulls up his boxer briefs and jeans before returning to me. For a minute, I think he might leave me here, nailed to his wall like a piece of art. But then, he reaches up, wraps his fist around the shirt, and yanks it out of the wall. Each nail makes a pinging sound as it hits the floor. My shoulders are relieved when he places my hands in my lap. Preston keeps his eyes on mine, a satisfied smirk in place as he unties the knot. I bend and flex my wrists and shoulders as he slips the black beater back on. There are now holes in it where bits of skin and muscle peek through.
“Are you sore?” Preston asks, rubbing my shoulders.
“A little. I’ll be fine.” I still sit naked on his workbench while he is fully clothed. “That was…”
“Amazing,” he answers for me.
“Mind-blowing,” I say. “Fantastic. Earth-shattering.”
“Don’t move.”
Preston steps to the sink and washes his hands again. Lots of soap and water up to the elbow. I still find this so mesmerizing, watching the muscles of his forearms and the way his hands move. He dries them on the towel and comes back to me. With such a gentle motion, Preston slides my bra back on and connects the front clasp. He finds my shirt and slips it over my head. I push my arms through the sleeves. My panties are next, sliding up my legs, his fingers against my skin. Finally, he pulls on my shorts. I hop down from the bench and finish tugging them up before buttoning them.