All Chained Up (Devil's Rock #1)(39)

There was the crinkle of the condom wrapper and then she felt him. The broad head of him parting her, entering her just a fraction.

Her hands instinctively groped for something to hold onto, grabbing his tense biceps on either side of her. He was bigger than his fingers. Bigger than anything she’d had inside of her, and she tensed.

“Hey,” he whispered. “Look at me.”

She found his gaze in the dark. His eyes glittered, and for once she read emotion there, a desperate need that mirrored her own, and something else. Something vulnerable she had never seen in him before. He was waiting for her, holding himself back for her.

Even though his jaw was clenched tight and she knew it was killing him to restrain himself, to wait, he was doing just that. He cared about her comfort. Her pleasure. This man wasn’t what everyone said he was—what the world thought. And in this moment, he was all hers.

She reached up to touch him. She dragged her thumb over his lips and leaned up, kissing him. He kissed her back. Hard and hungry, desperate even.

He pushed a little deeper inside her and she gasped into his mouth, her inner muscles stretching, burning. Not exactly uncomfortable. He eased back out and she released a little sigh of relief.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “You’ve done this before, right?”

“Yeah,” she panted. “It’s just been a while . . . and never anything like—” She gasped again as he pushed in more, going deeper, and a growl vibrated from his bare chest into hers.

He threw back his head. “You feel so good.” A sense of feminine power swelled within her with the knowledge that she brought this man pleasure. Everything melted and softened inside her. She slid one hand down his back and gripped his taut ass. She dug her nails into the tight skin and he choked, “Don’t, Briar . . . I can’t go slow when you . . .”

She pressed feathery kisses on his jaw, his cheek, moving to his lips. “Don’t, then. Take me like you want to.” She licked his mouth and then bit his bottom lip. “Fuck me harder, Knox. I won’t break.”

Before the last word even left her mouth, he rammed himself fully inside her. The force shoved her up the bed. He waited a moment, breathing raggedly, holding himself back. Despite her encouragement, he was still waiting, letting her get accustomed to his throbbing member lodged full inside her.

They were both panting as though they had run a long distance, their chests rising and falling together. Then he began again, moving at a steady pace, his hand tight on her hip, anchoring her for his thrusts.

It didn’t take long for that pressure to build back up inside her. He had her back where she had been moments ago, so close to climax. She angled her hips and lifted her thighs, wrapping them around his hips. He groaned and dropped his head into her neck, hammering faster, harder, beating her into the mattress with his big body as her sex clenched and flexed around him.

She curled a hand around his nape and held him there, reveling in his warm breath on her neck as he pumped deep and fast and wild. She came in a blinding flash, arching under him.

He kept going, riding straight through the shudders of her orgasm until she was rising up on another wave, edging closer and closer to another climax. His free hand swept over her breasts, squeezing and fondling the ice-cream sticky mounds. She felt a rush of new moisture between her thighs as he pinched down hard on one of her nipples.

“Oh, Knox,” she pleaded. “I can’t . . . what are you doing to me . . .”

“Again,” he commanded. “Come for me again.”

Her body obeyed. Her sex pulsed and clenched around him, the tug in her belly almost too tight, too painful. Too much. Everything was too much. Too sensitive. When he dropped a hand between them and found that hidden spot in her folds, she screamed and came again. She went limp beneath him, certain she might have just died.

He drove into her one more time and stopped, stilling, his chest lifting high as he came hard, pulsing inside her, a strangled gasp leaving his lips.

He lowered down slightly, his hands braced on the mattress on either side of her. He bowed his head, still buried inside her, breathing quick, shallow breaths. She lifted a hand, tempted to touch him, but an overwhelming sense of uncertainty swamped her.

What now?

It seemed she had her answer when he slid out from her body and got up from the bed. Without a word, without a look, he disappeared inside her bathroom. She heard him remove the condom and drop it into her small wastebasket. The sound of running water followed. She bit her lip and curled onto her side, waiting for him to return and imagining a million things to say as he dressed and took himself away, leaving her on the bed. Leaving her apartment.

She commanded herself to be an adult. No matter what, to not look as crushed as she felt. It was just sex. She should be grateful that it had been so good. Fabulous even. He’d given her unbelievable pleasure and he wasn’t going to make it complicated with talk or speeches or promises that he would never keep.

He returned then and stood looking down at her for a moment. She could hardly breathe as they stared at one another, not speaking. Suddenly she wished she had pulled the covers down to cover herself. With every inch of her exposed to his perusal, she felt self-conscious. Already this wasn’t going as predicted. Why was he still here? Why didn’t he say good-bye and go?

Knox reached to the top of the bed and tugged the comforter. She scooted to the opposite side of the bed, bewildered but giving him the access he wanted—which was to apparently pull down the covers. That accomplished, he reached for her and placed her in the middle of the bed on her cool sheets. Her mind was reeling. She blamed her sluggish thoughts on the multiple orgasms. When he slid in beside her and turned her so that she was spooning him, she was still slow to process what was happening.