Raw Redemption (Crossing the Line #4)(45)

Ailish barely heard the command because she was too busy marveling over his thickness, the leashed power between her legs. As if her hips were operating on their own, they flicked back and ground forward, the friction against her clit sending a moan flying past her lips. With his erection lodged inside Ailish, his available hand was free to knead her bottom in a hypnotic rhythm, moving in tandem with her undulations.

“There’s a good little earner.” His palm cracked down on her backside. “Moving like she wants more.”

“Yes. Please.”

Confusion crept in when Henrik covered her mouth with a big hand, but it cleared a second later—everything cleared from her mind—when Henrik seated himself completely inside her with a savage upthrust. Ailish screamed into the meat of his palm, her legs scrambling on either side of Henrik’s waist to climb higher…or climb down. Away. She didn’t know. Only could process the full breadth of him, pushing against her walls, his unrecognizable voice chanting into her hair. So much. Too much. And yet a sense of completion, of rightness, was there in the background, fighting for attention.

“Calm down, Ailish.” Henrik’s voice shook, his body riddled with tension. “Fuck, I knew you were tight, but…did you lie to me? You a virgin?”

She couldn’t speak with his hand covering her mouth, so she simply shook her head. The movement made her nipples slide sideways against his chest, sparking lust in her middle. Against his palm, she moaned, shifting her legs higher. “Feels better.” Her words were muffled. “Ohhh. That feels better.”

Henrik’s jaw looked ready to shatter. “Goddammit, I could break you like this. I have to lay you down somewhere—”

“No.” Ailish shook her head to dislodge his hand, pride making her brave. No way would she be found too weak for this man. In that moment, he was hers and she would satisfy him. “You said mean,” she murmured before going in for the kill, pushing his lips apart with her own and mingling their tongues together. The hand on her bottom tightened with bruising strength as he joined the dance…then started to lead. A broken sound split from his throat a second before he started to devastate Ailish, angling his head and deepening the kiss. She breathed through her nose, refusing to give up his mouth and its perfection. His erection beat inside her, even that subtle pumping of blood creating enough friction to arouse her even further. But it was nothing compared to when Henrik slid out a couple inches and pushed back in. Deeeeep.

“Motherf*cker,” he growled. “Stop squeezing me. I already need to come.”

Unaware that she’d been doing anything but kissing him, Ailish focused on where their bodies joined, relieved that the discomfort had subsided. Pleasure replaced it with every passing second, until she was frantic to buck her hips, which she did, ripping a string of curses from Henrik’s mouth. “You feel so good,” she whimpered.

“Me?” With both hands gripping her bottom now, Henrik lifted Ailish to the tip of his erection and slid her back down, baring his teeth when her body prevented him from going any further. He leaned in and pressed their mouths together, not kissing her, just breathing, breathing, as he walked them backward. Over Ailish’s head, Henrik braced one hand on a tree, his hips beginning to move in slow pumps. “I feel good, Ailish?” Their lips were flush when he groaned, so she could feel the sound on her tongue. “Men fight wars over * like this.”

If Ailish’s feet weren’t already dangling off the ground, they would have lifted all on their own, carried by the knowledge that she could undo this man. This man who caged such incredible strength, it vibrated beneath his skin with the effort to hold it back. He was thick and demanding between her legs, pushing into her wetness again and again with heavy thrusts, but the rest of him was marble. “You won’t break me,” she said, wrapping her legs more firmly around his waist. “But you’re welcome to try.”

“Stop.” He ground their foreheads together. “Stop talking.”

“N-no.” Behind her back, Ailish jangled her cuffed wrists, turned on by her own boldness. Thrills raced and snapped along her nerve endings, brought on by the illicitness of their position. Captive and captor, yes, but simply also woman and man. Two people who couldn’t stop touching any more than the sun could stop rising. “I’m your prisoner—now what are you going to do with me?”

A shift of intention took place inside Henrik. Ailish could sense it. Where he’d been thrown off by her inexperience in the beginning…she could see the very same thing made him want. Need. His hand slapped down on her backside, the other raking down the tree bark above her head, dislodging wood in its path. Moving on feminine instinct, Ailish arched her back a little more and presented her breasts, an offering Henrik didn’t hesitate to take. His mouth moved greedily from one nipple to the other, leaving dampness in its path. And God, although the sensations wrought by his mouth were tantalizing and perfect, they were nothing compared to the new, hurried slams of his hips. “Do I need to cover your mouth again? Huh?” His question alerted Ailish to the fact that words in some unknown language were being moaned through her lips. “Are you the kind of girl who helps men beat off through the thin walls in apartment buildings? Yeah, I think you would be. The little screamer on the third floor.”

Another brisk sting of Henrik’s palm on her backside had Ailish pressing her lips together to keep from crying out. His drives were coming at a punishing pace now, her teeth being jarred in her head from the force of being bounced high and slammed back down. “Henrik, Henrik, Henrik…”