Driven By Fate(40)

That single touch, her imploring tone, caused the live grenade in his stomach to explode. He guided himself to her mouth and slid into devastating warmth. Her moan sent pinpricks of pleasure dancing along the underside of his cock. He knew evidence of his desperation leaked from the tip, had no way to hold it all back, but she drew on him hungrily. Leaning back on the bed, he could only watch through a bank of lust as she slicked every inch of his erection with her tongue, before inching her lips past the head. Ah f*ck, Francesca kneeling in an innocent nightgown, damp hair spread over her shoulders, was almost enough to finish him.

“Look at me, Francesca. Show me with your eyes how much you enjoy sucking it.”

Her thick, black eyelashes lifted to gift him with a flash of silver. Gratification swam in their depths. So much. She loved the rock hard evidence of how bad he wanted to f*ck her. There was frustration there, too, though. Of a sexual nature, yes. His beautiful overachiever wanted to get more of him into her mouth and couldn’t manage it. Jesus, the sight of her trying to take him down while pumping his length in her hand…he would live off the image forever.

The hell with that. He’d just live off it until the next time. “You’re going to work hard until the entire thing disappears into your mouth, aren’t you? Just like we had to work on getting me into your *. Nod like my good girl.” He stroked her hair, groaning when she managed another inch. Christ. “Memorize the shape and taste, Francesca. I like having it sucked. Frequently. I’ll require it often.”

Her eyelids fluttered and she moaned around his swollen flesh, hand working faster in time with her mouth. Porter’s head fell back, hips rolling in a subtle upward movement. Just a little longer. A little longer to enjoy before he dragged her onto the bed and made her scream.

Downstairs, a door opened and shut. Loud male voices reached through the floorboards, muffled but excited. Between his outstretched thighs, Francesca pulled back with a gasp, slapping her hands over her mouth. Unacceptable. Porter swore his jaw would shatter from the pressure. Not with frustration over the intrusion, although there was definitely some of that. It was more, however. Men in the vicinity of his woman. His woman who should be waiting for his directive to stop. Rationally, he understood her concern, but his nature didn’t care. It wanted her focused on him, too lost to stop.

Just like him.

Porter reached down, wrapping a fist around her nightgown strap. He hauled her onto the mattress beside him and stood, yanking her knees to the edge of the bed. With rough hands, he shoved the nightgown up and over her hips, before taking a moment to savor the sight of her, unable to resist jacking himself as he rolled on a condom, looked her over. Smooth, tan thighs spread. Upturned ass lifted for a f*ck. Perfection.

“Porter, you can’t—”

He whipped the belt from his pants and shoved the leather between her teeth. As soon as he felt her lips close around the edge, he drove his cock to the hilt, groaning in satisfaction at her muted scream. Oh god. There is was, that sexy clench of her inner muscles, driving him to insanity. Good. So goddamn good. “Oh, I can.” He enunciated each word through his teeth. “I will. I will sweat and come and curse all over you. And then I’ll go downstairs and introduce myself as the man who will be making an appearance whenever you require my heavy cock. The one that makes you behave.” He reared back with his hips and slammed into her. “Does that make me a bad man, Francesca?”

The belt fell from her mouth. “Y-y-yes,” she sobbed. “You’re a bad man.” If her ass wasn’t pushed up against his stomach, * tightening and releasing around his dick rhythmically, he would have paused to reassure her. She wanted this, though. Needed it. The soles of her bare feet rubbed against his thighs, her undulating hips encouraged him to move, to thrust.

So he did. Hard. He put a hand on the back of her neck, pushing her face into the mattress to catch her cries as he drove. Drovedrovedrove. “You like the bad man, though, don’t you? The man who brings the pain and takes it away.” He aligned his chest with her back, nestling his mouth against her ear, keeping up his rapid thrusts. “How does my cock feel? Hurts a little, hmm?” With the hand not holding her neck, he reached around their bodies to tease her clit. Her hips bucked underneath him, her groan filling his chest with satisfaction. “Yes, I know. That’s better now. I give and I take away, don’t I, Francesca? Never forget it.”

Porter found her shoulder with his teeth, needing a place to subdue his own growls. His woman. His woman. The possessive voice in his head grew louder until nothing, not even the laughter coming from downstairs, could invade his conscious. The slap of his balls against her backside as his aching erection entered her wet *, the tops of his thighs connecting with hers, were all he could hear, see, feel.

Her muffled whimpers increased, her shoulders beginning to vibrate. “My lord.”

The title urged him on until the force of his drives were lifting her off the bed. “If someone walked in right now, I wouldn’t stop. No, little girl. I’d go harder.” He grabbed a section of her hair and used it to pull her head back. “I’d make them watch as I came. I’d show them how thoroughly I own this body. Your body. I’d make you tell them how good I feel.”

“Oh god…” she moaned. “I’m—please.”

Somehow the rain pinging on the roof managed to break into his thoughts. He didn’t want the rain there. Rain reminded him of home. Home reminding him of leaving her. No. No. He shoved the unwanted reminder aside and refocused on Francesca. His. His for now.