Breaking Him (Love is War #1)(66)

I clung to him, kissing him back. I felt drugged, past all good judgement, in a state, and the look in his eyes had put me there.

He dragged me to the shore, out of the water, and onto the ground. He got on top of me, shoving his hips between my thighs.

He was a wild man, shoving my shirt up, grabbing handfuls of me, rough noises escaping from his throat.

My hand went for him, delving into his boxers to cup him.

One of his hands snaked down and started dragging off my panties.

We knew each other’s bodies well by now, but it never seemed to be enough.

He wrenched his mouth away from me and moved down my body. When he came back up, I was naked from my shoulders down and his boxers were gone.

“Let me put it in inside you,” he groaned into my mouth when he was on top of me again. “Just for a second. I won’t come. I just want to feel you.”

I couldn’t say no. In spite of my better sense, if I even had such a thing, I couldn’t say no to the desperate plea in his voice.

“Okay,” I said tremulously.

“Are you sure? You can say no. You should say no if you’re not ready.”

“Just for a second, right?”

“Yes. I don’t . . . have condoms or anything. I won’t come inside you, I swear.”

I nodded, craning my neck to look down and watch what he was doing.

He used his hand to guide himself to my entrance, angling his tip to snag in just right.

I was wet, and he’d already taken care of my hymen, but it was still uncomfortable. He was too big and I was too tight.

It took him a long time to stuff his thick length in. If it was uncomfortable for me, it seemed to be excruciating for him going by the noises he was making.

He shoved in until his hips were flush against me, buried to the root. He held still there for a time, panting on top of me.

My body started to adjust. It was still uncomfortable, but that discomfort was starting to be overshadowed by the ache inside of me. The ache was growing fiercely, and my body had come to expect relief from it. I started shifting under him, getting a feel for the overwhelming fullness of it, trying to find the angles that made my stubborn tightness loosen enough to bring me pleasure.

As soon as I moved, he lost his mind.

He cursed, jerked out halfway, shoved all the way back in hard enough to jar a cry out of me, pulled back, pumped in again, once, twice, before he yanked completely free.

He was apologizing over and over as he rolled off me and onto his back.

I followed him, hand going to his hard, twitching length, stroking him, rubbing out every last drop of his release.

We’d had a lot of practice by now. This had pretty much become the thing that consumed all of our free time in the last few months, and I knew just how to touch him, just what he liked.

He pulled my hand away slowly, eyes closed, still panting, but within thirty seconds he had me on my back, his hand between my thighs.

He set his mouth on my skin and started kissing his way down my body.

I couldn’t stop panting as he got lower, and lower. Fitting his shoulders between my thighs, he put his mouth on me for the first time.

He was unskilled, but he’d always been a patient learner. With some instruction, a shift here, a tongue there, he kept at it until he made me come against his lips in the most powerful orgasm of my life thus far.

“That’s my favorite thing so far,” I told him when I had the breath to speak again.

Grinning the most self-satisfied smile I’d ever seen him wear, he climbed up my body and started kissing me.

My hand went to his member. He was hard again, and I started stroking him.

This time, though, he didn’t let me jack him off.

He rolled onto his back.

I sat up, leaning over him, hand still on him, still squeezing and stroking.

His palm came up and cupped the back of my head, nudging me with a light touch down his body.

Knowing what he wanted, I’d wanted to do it for a while, I was just always afraid to give him too much, I moved down.

When I was hovering over his arousal, I licked my lips and shot a look at his face.

He was watching me with heavy-lidded fascination.

I licked my lips again, and the hand on my head gripped my hair and pushed me down.

I wasn’t good at it. What I lacked in skill I tried to make up for with enthusiasm, but as I bobbed my lips up and down on his length, I kept gagging myself.

Still, it was his first feel of my mouth so it didn’t take much. I’d barely gotten the hang of it, my hand helping my mouth, catching the rhythm of stroking and sucking, before he was shouting a warning, and then shooting down my throat. I didn’t know what else to do, so I swallowed.

He was still coming in slow pumps when he pinned me on my back and started kissing me.

“I love you,” he told me, over and over.

I’d never get enough of hearing those words come out of his mouth. It still seemed so impossible, so unlikely, that a perfect boy like him could love a trashcan girl like me, but I believed him.

“I love you too,” I told him. There was nothing in the world I was more certain of. Not one thing. Not the sky or the moon, not the earth or the sun.

He was my constant. He held the vast majority of my faith in the palm of his hand.

With stuttering slowness I told him so.

His answer was to kiss me top to bottom and then go down on me again.