At Peace (The 'Burg #2)(17)

“Thanks for the ride,” I whispered, unable to speak any louder.

Joe didn’t respond nor did he move.

I didn’t know what to do. I had thought he was eager to get home but he had his opportunity to escape and he was just standing there, staring at me in that way of his, something working behind his eyes.

Then I realized that I was being rude.

“Would you like to come in…?” I hesitated then finished, “for a drink or something?”

At first, Joe didn’t reply.

Then he said softly, his tone strange, like he was talking to himself even though I was right there, “You already think I’m a dick.”

I felt my heart beat faster and I whispered, “Joe –”

Joe cut me off. “So, don’t matter tomorrow morning you still think I’m a dick, ‘cause now, even though you’re drunk, I’m gonna take you inside and f**k you ‘til you ache.”

My heart stopped beating and my breath stopped coming which was bad, considering Joe grabbed my hand and pulled me into my house. He stopped to close and lock the door then he tossed my keys on the counter, pulled my purse off my arm and tossed that on the counter too then he dragged me through the kitchen, the dining area, the open study and straight to my bedroom.

I didn’t struggle. I didn’t do anything even when he stopped in my room, let my hand go and shrugged off his leather jacket, letting it drop to the floor. Then his hands came to my little corduroy jacket and he pulled it down my arms.

“Uh…” I mumbled, lifting my hands belatedly as he moved closer, “Joe –”

But my hands hit his hard chest then my arms were squashed between our bodies when one of Joe’s arms sliced low around my h*ps and he yanked me to him, his other hand fisted in my hair, twisting tight. I felt an illicit pain against my scalp that I shouldn’t have liked but I did. I liked it a lot. So much I felt it not only in my scalp but throughout my body. His fist in my hair positioned my head, tugging it back but tilting it to the side so when his mouth came down on mine hard I was right where he wanted me.

And I wanted to be there. There was no other thought, not to protest, to push away, to fight. I just wanted to be there, pressed against him, his arm around me, his hand in my hair and his mouth on mine.

I opened my mouth, his tongue spiked in, I liked the taste of him, the feel of his tongue and my body liquefied in his arms. My hands forced their way from between our bodies so my fingers could slide into his thick, overlong hair and I pressed deep into his big body. I gave no thought to what I was doing and who I was doing it with. I gave no thought to anything. I just felt and what I felt was unbelievably good.

His kiss wasn’t gentle. It was greedy, demanding and I liked it, so much I mewed in protest when he took his mouth away but didn’t protest when his hands went to my t-shirt and yanked it over my head, pulling it free and tossing it away. He moved into me, turning me, guiding me to the bed and I went down on it. Joe towered over me, pulling up a calf to yank off my boot then my sock then he went after the other one and did the same. Without delay, he leaned in, his hands went to my buckle and he’d undone it and my jeans and had them down my legs before I could take two breaths.

And I was breathing hard, already turned on. I came up to sitting which meant I collided with Joe when he came down on me and that’s when it really started.

I yanked his shirt out of jeans and pulled it over his head, his arms lifting to help me. I tugged it free and threw it to the floor then his hands came back to me and his mouth, his tongue, his teeth. I wanted them and all they were doing to my mouth, my neck, my ears, it was brilliant, my body was alive, vibrating, like I’d woken up from a seven hundred year sleep but what woke me was an electric shock. At the same time I wanted what he was doing to me back from him. I used my hands, my nails, my mouth and tongue everywhere I could touch, every inch I could taste.

It was wild, almost a struggle. I couldn’t get enough of him, take enough from him. No matter what I got, I wanted more, like a craving that hollowed out my insides, needing to be filled.

Joe was the same but he was stronger, keeping me on my back no matter how I tried to roll him. Along the line he disposed of my panties then he got my bra cup down and drew my nipple into his mouth sharply. My back arched, my fingers fisted in his hair as his tongue jabbed at my nipple then sucked it in fiercely and I f**king loved it.

“Yes,” I breathed and he moved to the other side, scraping my bra cup down again and repeating what he did to the first, his fingers having replaced his mouth at my other nipple, they pinched and twisted. It was rough but it felt brilliant and my h*ps rose in a reflexive demand.

“Joe,” I whispered, suddenly needing him inside me, my hand moving from his hair and sliding down the sleek skin of his back, to his side, his waist but his crotch was too far away.

He came back over me and his mouth took mine in another hard, bruising kiss and my hand found him, palming his groin, finding him hard, I moaned into his mouth and bucked my hips.

“Fuck me,” I pleaded, rubbing my hand against him, opening my legs.

He didn’t hesitate, his hand pushed mine aside and he undid his jeans.

“You on the pill?” he asked, his voice gruff.

“No,” I answered and felt the tip of his c**k pressing against me. I wanted it inside me so badly it was an ache, my hand slid into his jeans, curling around his tight ass in an insistent demand.