Broken Dove (Fantasyland #4)(72)

I jumped even as heat radiated from the sting to right between my legs and I did what he ordered, rearing back, f**king myself on his cock.

Another smack to the thigh, another jump, more sting, more fire burning to the heart of me and, “Harder, poppy.”

Oh God.

This was good.

I’d never been spanked.

And I wanted more.

I moved faster, took him harder, gasping and straining against him.

“Am I in there?” he growled.

Oh yes. Fuck yes. He was in there.

“Yes,” I whispered.

His hands spanned my hips, his fingers digging in, he stopped my motion and slammed in himself, staying deep and grinding.

“Am I in there, Madeleine?”

“Yes,” I gasped.

He started driving fast and deep and I got another smack on my thigh with, “Remove your gown. I want to see your skin.”

As he f**ked me from behind, I did my best to make short work of sliding out of the dress I’d worn on our first date, and an entire twenty-four hours (and more) besides. This left me in nothing but my black bustier, my br**sts spilling out the cups with his violent movements, my ni**les skimming the covers and it started to move over me again.

“This arse, gods, your beautiful arse,” Apollo groaned, running his hand over the cheek of my ass even as he continued to thrust inside me.

And I felt it. My cl**ax was right there.

I reached for it.

He pulled out.

God!

“No!” I cried.

His hands came to my ribs. He yanked me up to kneeling in front of him and one hand went directly to my breast, cupping it, as the other one went between my legs.

“Not without me, dove,” he growled in my ear.

“Hurry,” I begged.

His finger hit the target as he rubbed his c**k against my ass.

My head fell back into his shoulder.

Nice.

“You’re magnificent,” he groaned.

“Tha-thank you,” I whimpered, pressing into his hand between my legs at the same time tipping my ass to push against his cock.

His finger and thumb found my nipple, rolled then pulled.

My entire body jerked and I moaned, “Baby.”

I got another roll of my nipple and a demanded, “Again.”

“Baby,” I breathed.

He buried his face in my neck. “Gods,” he groaned before his teeth sank into my flesh.

God. God.

Amazing.

Then his teeth were gone. I was turned, pushed back to the bed and his hands where behind my knees. He pressed them high at the same time pulling them wide. His hands left my knees and went to my hips. He was sitting back on his calves and he yanked me up his thighs, the sensitive skin of my ass gliding against the rough hairs on his thighs, making me do a full body quiver. One of his hands left my hip and went to his cock. He guided the tip inside, his hand returned to my hip, and he hauled me up, filling me.

There it was.

“Yes, baby,” I moaned.

His eyes locked to mine, he used me to f**k himself then stayed buried as he fell forward, his thighs going out from under me, his hands going to the bed beside me, arms straight and he held himself over me as he drilled inside.

I lifted my hands to his chest, feverishly gliding them across the warm, hard wall and told him, “You’re magnificent too.”

“Keep your knees high for me, legs wide, poppy,” he grunted, powering in and I realized I was closing them in on him.

I stopped doing that, spread for him, exposed to him. It was wild, it was beautiful, it was hot, and I f**king loved it.

So much, I was nearly there.

“I’m close,” I gasped. “Are you with me?”

He stopped thrusting, starting grinding and demanded, “Look at me.”

I did, begging, “Apollo.”

He dropped his body to mine, his eyes boring into mine, his hand going between us, his thumb hitting the target and he pulled out, driving back in, groaning, “I’m bloody with you.”

Then we both came.

His sounded really freaking good.

Mine was a whole lot better.

I knew this because I felt his h*ps pound into mine through his. But I was still gloriously riding my cl**ax when he drove in and stayed planted and his nose was nuzzling the skin behind my ear by the time I started coming down.

He felt it and I knew that when he stopped nuzzling and his teeth nipped my earlobe before he said in my ear, “Next time I’ll go slow and gentle.”

I almost smiled.

I didn’t.

When he’d lowered himself to me, he’d trapped my hands between us. I pushed them up his chest, his neck, and framed his face, lifting it and guiding it so I could catch his eyes.

“Are the children okay?”

His features softened to tender and if that look was good normally (and it wasn’t good, it was good) with him inside me, his face close, and after a fabulous orgasm, it was off the charts good.

Then he lifted a hand to cup my cheek, his thumb moving out to touch between my brows, gliding down over my nose to my lips, his gaze watching the trail of his thumb, that tender look not moving from his face.

That was sweet, very sweet. And I liked it. A whole lot.

But he didn’t answer my question.

“Apollo,” I called and his eyes came to mine.