Built (Saints of Denver #1)(58)
His fingers rubbed up along my rib cage and his voice was lazy in my ear as he told me, “I’m so f*cking happy you picked option two.”
It made me laugh, which was hard to do with a naked giant pinning me to the bed. I stroked my hand over the stark and violent-looking image of the Norse god he had inked on one entire side of his ribs. I assumed the god was a depiction of the mighty Thor because of the hammer the image was wielding. The tattoo was powerful and huge, just like the man sporting it.
I was going to tell him how wonderful it all was, how happy I was that he had brought the date I’d claimed not to want to me, when my stomach remembered the abandoned dinner in the kitchen and roared loud enough that it made him push up and look down at me in surprise.
I would have been mortified but he was still buried deep inside of me, and when he chuckled at me I felt it everywhere.
“Let me clean up and get situated and I’ll feed you. I don’t want you to tell me no the next time I ask you on a date.”
We groaned in unison as he pulled out and I shifted around on the bed as he headed toward the bathroom. I was going to tell him that there would be no dating, that all of this was a fluke. When there was space between us I could think and the reality of things was as bleak and as barren as it always was. I wanted him to understand that what happened when I was with him was something magical and that it would eventually fade, but as I watched his toned backside flex as he disappeared into the bathroom I decided I just wanted to enjoy the view and that I would worry about the reality of who I was and how she had no idea how to be with who he was later.
CHAPTER 12
Zeb
I had my hands full of Sayer’s plump, firm breasts and her long, silken hair was tangled all over my chest where her hands were planted and it hung on either side of my face as she bent forward so that she could rock on my very happy dick even faster. She made a strangled noise in her throat as I trapped her puckered and flushed nipples between my fingers and her eyelids fluttered in a way that let me know she was getting close to coming.
Her typically pale cheeks were flushed a pretty pink and her mouth was damp and looked well loved, and her normally sleek hair was a mess from my hands and rolling all across her king-size bed for hours. She looked good all put together and ready to take care of business. She looked way better like this—messy, wild, out of control, and totally lost in the moment, caught up in how good we could make each other feel. This was the Sayer I was pretty sure I was well on my way to being in love with and I was really grateful she had started showing up more and more.
I grunted as her fingernails bit into my skin and moved a hand up to the back of her head so I could draw her down for a searing kiss. She came easily, folding into me like soft butter, so I shifted her so that she was stretched out underneath me so that I could watch those limitlessly blue eyes burn as I pushed her over the edge with a single, hard thrust. I wanted her to know it was me, only me, that could make her go off like that. I was the one she melted for. I was the one she let inside. She sighed in pleasure as she kissed me back and I felt her inner walls start to milk my cock with desperate little motions.
She still wouldn’t go out with me when I asked her on a date, but if I showed up at her house, she always let me inside and she never kicked me out of her bed. A few days ago I had asked her to come over to my place and was surprised when she readily agreed. My condo was nothing to write home about, basic in all the ways a condo typically was, and when she mentioned it, I had a hard time dancing around the fact that I had already built my dream home . . . she just happened to be living in it. I distracted her from that conversation by putting her on the kitchen counter and wrapping her legs around me, which, of course, led to a bout of vigorous kitchen sex. It took me a few nights to realize that to her, if we weren’t actually going out, actually participating in any kind of social activity other than all the sex we were having, then we weren’t dating.
I tried to talk to her about it, tried to get her to see that I was in this for so much more than her delectable body and the mind-blowing sex, but it was her turn to distract me from the conversation by pulling my dick out and sucking it so far into the back of her throat I was amazed she didn’t choke on it. Needless to say, I couldn’t think much after that, but the conversation still needed to happen, but it could wait, unlike the orgasm that I felt coiling up at the base of my spine as I hammered into her. Our pubic bones collided and I could feel her sweet spot quiver and her whole body tense up.
She put a hand on the side of my face and combed her fingers through my beard. It was a new thing she seemed to like to do, and while it should feel comforting and sweet, all it made me want to do was bury myself inside her as far as I could go so that she felt me everywhere, every day, in every single move she made while we were apart. I growled at her and sank my teeth into the top of her shoulder with just enough force to make it sting. She garbled something that I’m sure was supposed to be words and then her body clamped down on me like a velvet vise and I felt her pleasure and mine collide and merge into one intense flood of completion. I couldn’t remember a time when I ever got off at the same time as the girl I was with. I was never that in sync with anyone, never that caught up in the moment and feeling what they were feeling as intensely as my own desire. It had happened more than once since I started sleeping with Sayer, and each time it felt more important, more significant than the last.
I swore down at her and she giggled up at me as I rolled to the side so I didn’t crush her when I collapsed. I brought her with me and she wiggled on my dick, which had me growling at her. I was so over the latex that kept me from being able to stay inside her forever and enjoy a minute where I could just hold her and marvel at how perfect she fit me. That was another conversation I wanted to have but was leery of how she would react. She seemed bound and determined to keep me close but with enough room that she could duck out if she felt like she needed to. I didn’t want to push too hard, considering being here, in this house I built for her, in her bed anytime I asked, was a huge victory. I might not be all the way through those icy barriers she had, but I was tunneling my way into the core of her nicely.