Craving The Player (Amateurs In Love Book 1)(21)
I sneak a look at him over my shoulder and find myself consumed with the look on his face, unable to look away. His lip is between his teeth, head hanging back, neck limp. The scar etched through the middle of his right eyebrow is emphasized when both brows pull together in a way that has me pulsing around him. The sight of unmistakable pleasure spreading in his narrowed eyes has my grip on the counter tightening as he slides the rest of the way in, balls deep.
"I forgot how tight you are," he forces through clenched teeth, pulling all the way out and slamming back into me. His thrusts become rough, unforgiving, and I cry out, begging him for more. I need him to keep going, to keep fucking me until I beg him to stop, unable to take anymore. He curses under his breath and grabs my hips, squeezing them to the point of bruising.
"Don’t stop," I whimper. “Don’t fucking stop.”
Braden shakes his head once, letting me know that he wouldn’t dare. His movements don’t falter as he reaches forward and grabs hold of my hair, wrapping it once around his knuckles and yanks me back towards him. His front presses against my back, warm skin slick with sweat connecting with every thrust of his hips. Our eyes meet in the mirror, the sight so erotic my knees threaten to buckle. I can feel his hot breath on my shoulder, neck, then ear as he mumbles, "I need you to keep quiet for me, Sierra.”
Nodding quickly, I reach back and squeeze his forearm, letting my nails dig into his skin. My tongue slides between my teeth as I hold back a loud cry. I feel my legs give out from under me when my orgasm sends my body into a fit of trembles, white-hot pleasure shooting up my spine, sizzling my nerves, fraying them. I cry out when he reaches around me and plays with my clit, tugging, pinching, rubbing it until my high falls, leaving me breathless and jello-like.
Braden lets go of my hair and I fall forward. He places his hands back on my waist, holding me up, not stopping his unforgiving thrusts as he does so. "I'm almost there," he grits out, squeezing his eyes shut.
My strength starts to come back a few seconds later and I manage to stand on my own, throwing myself back to meet every single one of his forceful thrusts. Fingernails dig into my skin at the same time he throws his head back, releasing a deep, guttural groan, filling the condom. I can’t seem to look away, too entrapped by the complete satisfaction and relief etched in his tightened features. His sharp jaw is rigid, teeth grinding so hard I’m surprised I can’t hear the sound.
His movements slow to a stop as he places his hands down beside mine and rests his forehead against the middle of my back.
"So, are you gonna run away from me again? Or have I convinced you that it’s no use?"
Chapter Nine
Braden
I'm pleasantly surprised when I wake up to hot breath fanning across my chest.
An explosive tingling sensation shoots up my right arm when I attempt to pull the numb limb from under Sierra's body before giving up with a quiet groan. For such a small person, she creates way too much damn heat. As if she heard the silent insult, Sierra mumbles incoherent words in her sleep, her voice light and delicate. The opposite of the brash one that I’ve become so accustomed to. She nuzzles her face into my neck and I feel my chest vibrating from a laugh that I fight to keep inside.
I let myself relax again and soak up the sight of the miraculously carved, naked body curled into my side. Circular bruises peek out from under her messy hair, decorating the pale, smooth skin of her neck with hues of purple. The possessive marks bring the memories of last night back full throttle, my cock hardening.
From hailing another cab—no emotionally scarred drivers this time—to stumbling in the front door and taking her against the back of the couch, the fridge and kitchen table, to having her lower herself on me the minute we made it to the bed, riding me until her strength gave out. Each memory builds my heavy need to be inside of Sierra again, waking her up with a morning fuck, regardless of the ache in my muscles and her ridiculous rule. No morning sex. I have no idea how, or why I agreed to such a stupid rule, but now that I think about it, it was definitely the booze. It's always the fucking booze.
I look up at the ceiling and use my free hand to push my shaggy hair out of my eyes, the strands damp with sweat. Dropping my eyes, I watch Sierra's dainty hand stretch across my abdomen, manicured nails scratching at the toned muscles. It feels good, relaxing even. She pulls herself closer to me with a sigh.
The movement causes the thin black sheet to move down her torso, exposing her bare chest and hardening nipples. The smooth skin taunts me, silently beckoning me forward. I swallow the growing lump in my throat with a firm shake of my head.
I’ve never been a big fan of waking up beside someone, especially not somebody that only my penis is overly acquainted with, but if waking up to a body as gorgeous as this one is what I’ve been missing out on, then fuck have I been an idiot. Sure, there’s some women who seem to get the wrong impression after coming home with me, waking up tucked into my side, freshly fucked and hungry. They assume that maybe I’ll wake up and realize they’re my soulmate, my person, as Clay would call it. But the mirage usually fades quickly. It’s a hit to the pride being told that he’s just not that into you.
"You're the worst pillow ever. You fidget too much." Sierra pushes herself off of me before letting her head fall onto her unused pillow with an exaggerated huff. Tangled but glossy caramel brown hair spreads out around her, smelly strongly of mangos and a bit of her floral perfume.