Lick (Stage Dive, #1)(43)

So this was angry sex. I couldn’t bring myself to hurt him, not really. But there were other ways to assert myself in this situation. He came back to my mouth and I nipped him again in warning.

A mad smile appeared on his face. It probably matched my own. We were both panting, fighting for air. Both as stubborn as hell. Without another word he released my wrists and drew back. Quickly, he grabbed my waist and turned me over, pulling me up onto my elbows and knees. Arranging me how he wanted me. Rough hands tore at the button and zip on my jeans. He yanked down my denim and crazily overpriced thong, body poised over mine.

His hands smoothed over my ass. Teeth dragged over the sensitive skin of one cheek, just above the tattoo of his name. A hand slipped beneath to cup my sex. The press of his fingers against me had me seeing stars. When they started stroking me, working me higher, I couldn’t hold back my moan. He nipped me on the rump, a sharp sting of sensation. Then he pressed kisses up my spine. Stubble from his chin scratched my shoulder.

The lack of words, the absolute silence apart from our heavy breathing made it more. It made it different.

One finger slid inside me. Not nearly enough, damn it. He slid in a second finger, stretching me a little. Once, twice he slowly pumped it into me. I pushed back against his hand, needing more. Next came the sound of the bedside drawer sliding open as he searched for a condom. His fingers slid out of me and the loss was excruciating. I heard his zipper being lowered, the rustle of clothes and the crinkle of a condom wrapper. Then his cock pressed against me, rubbing over my opening. He pushed in slow and steady, filling me up until there was nothing left that wasn’t me and him. For a moment he stopped, letting me adjust.

But not for long.

Hands gripped my hips and he began to move. Each thrust was a little faster and harder than the last. Labored breathing and the slap of skin against skin swallowed the silence. The scent of sex hung heavy in the air. I pushed back against him, meeting him thrust for thrust, spurring him on. It was nothing like the sweet and slow of this morning. Neither of us was tender. My jeans shackled me at the knees, making me slip forward a little with each thrust. His fingers dug into my hips, holding me in place. He stroked over something inside me and I gave a startled gasp. Again and again he concentrated on that spot, making me mindless. I felt superheated. Like fire burned through me. Sweat dripped off my skin. I hung my head, closed my eyes and held onto the floor with all my might. My voice called out without my consent, saying his name. Damn it. My body wasn’t my own. I came hard, awash with sensation. My back bowed, every muscle drawn tight.

David pounded into me, hands slipping over my slick skin. He came a moment later in silence, holding himself deep. His face rested against my back, arms wrapped around my body, which was lucky. I’d lost all traction. Slowly I slid to the floor. If he hadn’t been holding me I’d have face-planted. I doubt I’d have even cared.

In silence, he picked me up and carried me into the bathroom, sat me on the sink. Without fuss he dealt with the condom, started running a bath, holding a hand beneath the faucet to check the temperature. He undressed me like I was a child, pulling off my sneakers and socks, my jeans and panties. He tugged off my shirt and unclipped my bra. His own clothes were ripped off with far less care. I felt curiously naked with him now, the way he was treating me. Being so careful with me despite my biting and big boned unwieldiness. He treated me like I was precious. Like I was a china doll. One he could apparently have rough sex with upon occasion. Once more, he checked the water, then he picked me up again and into the bath we went.

I huddled against him, my skin cooling off fast. My teeth chattered. He held me tighter, resting his cheek against the top of my head.

“I’m sorry if I was too rough,” he said finally. “I didn’t mean it, accusing you of shit like that. I just … f*ck. I’m sorry.”

“Rough wasn’t a problem, but the trust issue … we’re going to need to talk about it sometime.” I rested my head against his shoulder, stared up into his troubled eyes.

His chin jerked as he gave me a tight nod.

“But right now, I’d like to talk about Vegas.”

The arms around me tensed. “What about Vegas?”

I stared back at him, still trying to think everything through. Not wanting to get this wrong, whatever this was.

Marriage, that’s what it was.

Shit.

“We’ve covered a lot of ground in the last twenty-four hours,” I said.

“Yeah, I guess we have.”

I held up my hand, my sparkly ring. The size of the diamond didn’t matter. That David had put it on me was what made it important. “We talked about lots of things. We slept together, and we made promises to each other, important ones.”

“You regretting any of it?”

My hand slid around the back of his neck. “No. Absolutely not. But if you woke up tomorrow, and you’d somehow forgotten all of this. If it was all gone for you, like it had never happened, I would be furious at you.”

His forehead wrinkled.

“I’d hate you for forgetting all this when it’s meant everything to me.”

He licked his lips and turned off the tap with a foot. Without the water gushing out the room quieted instantly.

“Yeah,” he said. “I was angry.”

“I’m not going to let you down like that again.”