The Bodyguard: A BWWM Bad Body Romance(29)

He lapped, licked and sucked at her hungrily until Juliet, incredibly, found herself at the edge of another earth-shattering orgasm. It was inevitable, racing towards her as her toes curled and her body clenched and then...it took her.

If her head hadn’t been buried in the pillow, Crowley and Bosh might well have heard her. As it was, her muffled cry echoed about the room as her pleasure was wrung from her. Juliet’s body trembled uncontrollably, her stomach clenching, as the world ceased to exist. There was only mind-numbing pleasure: Hank’s ravenous mouth between her legs and the sound of her own labored breathing.

By the time Juliet finally came back down, it was to the sensation of Hank brushing slow, heated kisses up the line of her spine. A soft moan escaped her as she shifted beneath the warmth of his body. The tight skin around her wounds ached and her calves cramped from how tight her muscles were wound, but the lazy warmth that enveloped her was almost like a drug.

Hank’s mouth soon found the nape of her neck, sending a residual shiver through her as she used the last of her strength to roll over and face him. She thought he might be irritated that she was so easily exhausted, or frustrated by her sudden laziness, but, instead, she found only hunger in his gaze. “You taste fucking decadent.” Despite the fact that Juliet hadn’t thought it was possible to move, let alone want him again, she was, for the second time that evening, proven wrong.

When he kissed her, she tasted herself on his lips and found herself addicted to the flavor.

But Juliet wanted no more of his mouth. She had more robust parts of him in mind.

She reached down to find him, if possible, even harder than he had been before. It was then that Juliet realized that the man had her naked as the day she was born and he was still completely clothed. She was going to have to do something about that.

Taking hold of the hem of his t-shirt, she yanked it upward impatiently. Hank uttered not a single protest, tearing his mouth from hers long enough for her to fling the shirt away before he was kissing her again, his tongue sliding sinuously against hers. Once Juliet’s hands were free to roam his bare chest, she groaned at the taut musculature she found. His chest was just as inked as both of his arms, and she traced the intricate dark lines, moving ever downward until she reached the bulge at the crux of his legs.

Juliet slid her hand beneath the elastic hem waistband of his shorts without hesitation. At the size of him, her eyes widened.

Everything was very much in proportion.

Her fingers wrapped around the hard, heated length of him, stroking lingeringly from base to tip, and a low groan ripped from his throat. Hank’s breath fell, hot and labored, against her shoulder, as her thumb smoothed over the huge, blunt tip of him.

Juliet had only been with one man in her life, and she couldn’t remember ever feeling anything more than reluctance to sleep with him - even when she believed him madly in love with her. In that moment, she was so concerned with getting Hank inside of her any and everything else faded from her mind.

Hank himself endured about two minutes of her hand roving over his erection before he was shucking his pants and boxers over his hips to discard them carelessly.

For all the time the man had taken to look at her, Juliet had to stop to take in his naked form - just for a fraction of a moment. The network of ink that covered his skin like a web, powerful thighs and taut arms. It was, however, the raw need in his eyes that had her yanking him back to her.

Juliet paid no mind to the way her ankle twinged as her legs locked around his waist. The sweet slide of his erection against her belly dragged a moan from her. When she reached down to press him against her wet heat, Hank’s hand covered hers. It was clear, after a lingering minute of him torturously dragging his cock over the slippery seam of her, that the man was a masochist. Juliet keened, arched and whimpered. She squirmed and pulled him tighter against her - did everything short of begging to have him inside her…

And then, all at once, he was.

Hank entered her in a forceful thrust that took her breath away, pinning her lips to the mattress and pulling her mouth into an O of sensation. He filled her so completely the pleasure almost bordered on pain, but Juliet only pulled him deeper. She needed this.

Needed him.

Hank growled a low curse against her shoulder as he withdrew slightly before snapping his hips forward. Juliet muffled her cry of pleasure against his shoulder, delighting in his shiver when she bit down hard enough to leave a mark.

Hank quickly worked up a rhythm of long, breathtaking strokes that had Juliet bucking against every press of his hips into hers. Reaching up, she cupped his face, raising her mouth to his, and gasped when Hank’s hand tangled in her hair, stopping her mouth mere inches from his. His eyes locked with hers as he thrust into her once again, and Juliet found she couldn’t look away.

She told herself that this was about forgetting - that any man would do to break the hold Solomon had once had on her...but that was bullshit. Juliet wasn’t idiotic enough to let just any man into her bed. Not after what she’d endured.

It was Hank she wanted. He knew who she was - what she was, and still he wanted her as badly as she wanted him.

When her body began to clench around him, an incredible, third orgasm beckoning, her head fell back and she let the pleasure take her.

“Fuck!” Hank’s mouth found the junction of her neck and shoulder and bit down, hard, drawing a choked cry from her. His grip on her good hip turned almost bruising, but Juliet just clenched him tighter, until his entire body stiffened and she felt him spill inside her in long, hot spurts.