Into the Storm (Signal Bend #3)(44)

Everything in her belly and between her legs clenched, like a cramp, and she felt her panties soak. She nodded. They were apparently beyond language.

Straddling her, his weight on his own legs, he pushed his hands into her jeans and forced open the buttons of her fly in one hard move. Then he grabbed her jeans and underwear together and pulled. She raised her hips and helped him as he scooted down her legs with her clothes in his hands.

He got as far as her knees before he realized that her bed had a footboard, too. After a pause while she could see him figuring out the logistics, he got up went to stand at the end of the bed, then reached over the footboard and pulled her boots off, then her socks, then her jeans and underwear, grinning the whole time.

After her clothes were cast away, he picked up her left foot and lifted it high. He massaged it, pressing his thumbs exquisitely into her arch. Then he kissed every polished toenail and put her foot down. The shift in pace, from the rough demand to this sweet caress, made her feel a little dizzy and a lot needy. She moaned and lifted her hips, encouraging him to get back to business.

He stood where he was and took his own clothes off. She watched avidly, thrilled beyond measure to be seeing his sculpted body again. She’d been a little scared by his size that night in the clubhouse, but the kind of scared that had made her wet and squirmy. Now, she wasn’t scared at all. She knew how he felt inside her, the way he filled and stretched her, the way he reached deep. She wanted it. God, she wanted him again.

When he was naked, he stayed at the end of the bed, looking down at her. What? She whimpered, rocking her hips.

“We still okay without a condom? I got ‘em if we need ‘em.”

She laughed. His voice had sounded loud after all the quiet heat. “We’re okay. Get over here. God, get over here.”

He laughed, too, and came back to her. He lay at her side at first and kissed her, gently. No. She wanted what was going on before he’d gotten up. She wanted him desperate and hard.

She bit his lower lip, hanging on for a second, pulling on it. He jerked back and stared hard at her. And then he rolled onto her, letting what felt like all of his weight rest on her, his hands up around hers on the headboard, his mouth insistent on hers, his erection pressing into her thigh. Yes. This was what she wanted.

She surged her hips up and ground against him, feeling his cock slide against her skin.

He broke away from her mouth. “Fuck, woman. Fuck.”

He shifted, and she thought he’d enter her finally, but instead, he moved down, nipping and sucking at her skin, over her collarbone, her nipple, her belly, her thigh. He wrapped his arms around her thighs and pushed her legs wide apart, so wide she felt the stretch all the way to her core, and then his mouth was on her, and he was sucking her clit the way he’d sucked her nipples, hard and rough, shaking his bearded mouth against her folds.

Oh, it was good. Oh. Oh. “Oh, oh, oh, oh yes. Yes, Show. Oh yes. Please, yes.”

She held on to the headboard and planted her feet flat on the bed, bringing her hips and back and legs up, trying to get him even harder, tighter against her. With a dark growl, he obliged, and then lightning struck the deepest part of her, and she screamed. He stayed on her, forcing the climax to its highest peak, and she screamed again.

As soon as she was able to relax back down to the mattress, he was up, propped on his elbows over her, shoving forcefully into her. It hurt—he was so damn big—but she wanted it, wanted the burn and the stretch. He thrust fast, hard and deep, grunting hoarsely every time, reaching deeper than she knew she was, his head over hers, his hair loose and wild around them, brushing her face as he rocked back and forth, so hard, inside her. She brought her legs up and wrapped them around his hips. He grunted and moved faster, dropping his head to claim her mouth with his wet beard, his tongue tasting of her.

She was going again, all of her muscles cramping in pleasure more intense than she thought she could stand. She let go of the headboard, wanting to feel his back, but he locked his own arms, pinning her and forcing her hands to stay where they were. All but immobilized, she grabbed the spindles again and let the pleasure have her.

She turned her mouth from his, needing more air, sucking it in in huge gulps. As her release washed over her, he grated, “Yeah, again. That’s it. Again,” each word coming on a thrust. Hitting her peak a second time, she bit down on her lip against the scream.

“Don’t do that. I want to hear you. I want it all.” He pushed up onto his knees and dragged her with him, slamming her against his hips. She couldn’t have held the scream back if she wanted to. She was wailing. She’d never come like this. Never felt so out of control, so much a slave to sensation.

She was still spasming hard, not quite done, when he pulled out and flipped her over. She wasn’t a fan of this position; she didn’t like the way it made her helpless and invisible—wait—she needed to catch her breath and stop him. She didn’t like—and he was in her again, oh God, so deep, oh wait.

“Show—ah. Ah.” She couldn’t get the words out to stop him. She could only grunt. His long, thick fingers had her hips in a death grip, yanking her fro as he shoved to. And then, holy God. It felt so good.

God. What—how—where—oh God. She was still grunting, but no longer trying to talk. She didn’t know how long she could take this profound intensity, but she didn’t want it to stop. Show was yelling now, incoherently, moving so fast and hard the sound of their meeting bodies was like the beat of a bass drum, and she was screaming again, coming so hard she was sure it was going to kill her. Her vision actually went dim.