Confetti Hearts (Confetti Hitched, #1)(8)

His eyes flare. “Okay, but I need to get you ready. Lie back.”

I obey and hear the cap open on the lube. He traces one wet finger along my anus, and I groan at the touch. He rubs me, and it’s ticklish and wonderful.

“Come on,” I urge.

“Don’t rush me.” He bends to kiss me, the taste of my cock on his lips, and I clutch him close, my hands sliding on his broad, brawny shoulders as he pushes his finger inside me. I clench automatically but then breathe out and try to relax.

A lot of men rush this stage and I’ve had more than my fair share of uncomfortable sex, but Lachlan makes what is sometimes an onerous task seem the most erotic thing in the world. He slides his finger in and out, bending and taking my cock back into his mouth, and soon, I’m groaning as I push up into his mouth and back onto his finger. He lubes another finger and repeats the process, his face set and full of lust as he licks the vein on my dick.

“Like rubbing your head and your belly at the same time,” I mutter.

He gets me, a smile lighting his face. Then he pours more lube onto his fingers—a lot of lube. I raise my eyebrow. “Maybe you should alert the local wildlife, because there’ll be an oil slick soon.”

He shakes his head. “I’m big, babe. You need to be ready, because I don’t want to hurt you.”

The third finger might be overkill, because I actually like the stretch and pull of a cock inside me, but I relax into it. In fact, it feels so good that I grumble inarticulately when he pulls back, removing his fingers.

His chuckle sounds very relaxed, but when I open my eyes, his expression is set and hard, his eyes blazing, his cock visibly throbbing. “Move up a bit and get on all fours,” he orders.

I rush to obey, resting my weight on my elbows and looking blindly down at the red velvet. He climbs onto the chaise behind me, and when I feel the nudge of his cock, I swallow hard.

He squeezes my hip. “Okay?”

I nod frantically. “Get inside me.” He notches his cock against me. “But go slow,” I add quickly. He starts to push. “Very slowly,” I squeak.

“Any more orders, sergeant?”

“Hush! I’m thinking of England.”

His chuckle is strained, and my laughter falls away as he starts to push in. I won’t lie and say it’s easy, because it isn’t. He’s big, and it takes a while and a lot of very welcome pauses before he’s even halfway in.

He runs a comforting hand down my spine, no doubt feeling the goosebumps. “Jesus, you’re so fucking tight,” he breathes. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” I suck in a breath as he goes deeper, and he reaches around and grabs my cock. It’s flagged, but it isn’t because I’m not turned on. It’s just that I’m more focused on the incredible stretch. At his touch however, my dick revives and twitches in his hand.

“Good boy,” he says, his voice even deeper than before. Something about that just fucking gets me. I give a slutty moan and push back, and he slides in like a key into a lock.

“Oh shit,” he grunts. “Joe?”

“I’m okay,” I gasp. He slides one hand down my cock, his grip perfect. “I’m so okay,” I say breathily. “God, you’re so big.”

He tightens his grip on my hip and then it’s a race to the finish with no finesse as he thrusts into me, his hands leaving bruises on my skin. He grunts as he bottoms out, and it harmonises with my loud cries and pleas for more.

“I’ll give you more,” he grunts, tilting my arse up and ramming into me. He freezes as I cry out loudly. “Okay?” he gasps.

“Stop asking me that. Keep going.”

“I don’t think I could stop.” His hands flex on my arse as he pounds into me. “Your arse is so fucking gorgeous.”

It’s animalistic and desperate and the best thing I’ve ever had, and all I can do is take it—take him. I lean forward, my arse tilted, and let him control everything. He pauses mid-thrust and puts his hand around my throat, pulling me up. The grip is gentle and doesn’t hurt at all, but something about the controlled gentleness of the grasp and the forceful way he moves inside me just does it for me, and my balls draw up.

“Fuck,” I cry out. “Lachlan.” And then I’m coming without his hand on me, spurting onto the chaise as he pounds into me.

He grunts as I squeeze around him. “You came without my hand.” He pulls out, and I groan at the unpleasant feeling. “Can I—?”

“God, yes.” I scramble onto my back, but as I move, my leg catches the lamp wire, and with a crash, the lamp smashes into the fireplace, and the light goes out. “Oops.”

“Ignore it,” he grunts, and I spread my legs enjoying his avid gaze on my body in the bright moonlight coming from the window.

“Come on,” I urge. “All over me. Make a mess.”

He strips off the condom and stands over me, his hand shuttling over his big cock, the veins standing out and the head angry and red. His face tightens, and he groans deep and long as he comes across my chest, jizz catching in the hair there.

“Fuck,” he finally says, and I start to laugh.

“You can say that again.”

He slides to his knees by the side of the chaise, resting his head on my thigh. “Hi,” he says, his eyes lazy and satiated.