Ride Hard (Raven Riders #1)(61)

He shuddered out a breath. “What am I . . .” He shook his head. “I should slow this down, lay you out, do this right.” He grasped her hand and made to pull her toward the door.

“No,” she said, tugging against his hold. “Here. Now.” Part of her was afraid she’d freak out in the time it took to go wherever he wanted to take her, but a part of her liked the idea of it here. In the bathroom. Standing up. Against the wall.

His eyebrow lifted, and he gave her a slow up-and-down look that set her body on fire.

“Now, Dare,” she said, her voice shaky but her mind made up.

The approval that slid into his expression lit her up inside. He stepped out of his boots and the rest of his clothes until he stood gloriously naked in front of her. Tattoos—some pictures, some words—ran the length of his lean body, along with more than a few scars. His body was rugged, strong, utterly masculine.

He retrieved something from the wallet in the back pocket of his jeans. And then he ripped open the little square wrapper and placed the rubber against his tip. As he rolled it on, he watched her watching him until she thought she might die of anticipation. And the fact that he’d thought of it—when her brain had barreled right past the consideration for protection—proved that she was entrusting this moment to the right man.

God, Dare really was the right man. For her. Except—

“Here?” he rasped, boxing her up against the wall again. The contact chased away her thoughts, especially as he pushed his erection between her legs and rubbed the thick head against her clit.

She nodded and grasped his shoulder. Instinct had her sliding her leg up the outside of his until her thigh hooked on his hip. With one hand, he grasped her leg and helped hold it there, and with the other, he guided his blunt tip deeper between her legs until he was probing her entrance.

“Now?” he asked, his eyes absolutely on fire.

“Now,” she breathed, tilting her hips, aligning her need with his promise.

“It’s been a long f*cking time for you, Haven. Don’t let me hurt you,” he said.

The words made her smile. “Just the fact that you said that makes me know you won’t.”

“Jesus.” His hips thrust forward, just a little, but enough to impale her on his tip.

She moaned and arched, her head falling back and her hips angling toward him. Wanting more. Needing all of him.

“Fuck,” Dare bit out, the raw desperation of the curse making her wetter, allowing her to take more of him. And, finally, all of him.

Dare was big, and it had been a long time, and the feeling of fullness and stretching was a little uncomfortable. But it was something more than that, too—it was . . . it was freedom. She was free, free to choose this, to choose him. “Oh, God,” she cried. “Move. Please move.”

A big hand grasped her other thigh and hauled her up the wall, until Dare was all that held her up—his hands under her legs, his hips against hers, his cock deep inside her. A long withdraw and a slow, deep thrust had them both moaning.

Haven wrapped her arms around Dare’s neck and held on as his strokes picked up pace, his hips withdrawing and returning faster, his breaths coming harder, a stream of groans and curses spilling out of that harsh, beautiful mouth.

“Christ, Haven,” he ground out. He kissed her deeply—her mouth, her lips, her neck, and back to her mouth again. As he moved faster, they couldn’t hold the kiss. Instead, he leaned his forehead against hers and their hair made a curtain around their faces, his dark brown, hers lighter. And it made her feel like they were together against the world and no one could hurt her ever again.

“Don’t stop,” she said. “Don’t stop. Never stop.”

Dare pulled her off the wall and carried her to the vanity. “Not a chance,” he said, sitting her down on the granite between the double sinks.

Haven braced her hands behind her, her head reclining back against the mirror.

“Not a f*cking chance,” he said, leaning in to kiss her.

The new angle had his pubic bone grinding against her clit again and again. She gasped into the kiss.

He pulled his lips away from hers and stared down to where his body penetrated hers. “Look how good we look,” he rasped, watching her watch him disappearing inside her. Again and again.

Heat filled Haven’s cheeks even as she was absolutely fascinated by his movements, her slickness on his length, the wet sounds they made together. “It’s really . . . freaking . . . hot,” she said.

One side of his mouth quirked up into a wicked grin. “It’s really f*cking hot.” He arched a brow, as if challenging her.

She looked down again just as he sank deep and his sack rocked against her butt cheeks.

He planted his hand against her lower belly and stroked his thumb over her clit. Fast and firm. “Say it. Tell me how hot it is.”

Haven’s mouth dropped open on a moan. “It’s really f*cking hot,” she whispered, her gaze flashing back to his.

“That’s right,” he growled, leaning in again to claim her mouth. His thumb continued to strum at her clit until she felt entirely overwhelmed by him—his mouth stealing her breath, his body pressing her down, his cock deep inside her. “You coming all over my cock would be even hotter,” he said, nailing her with a stare.

Those words out of that mouth was like someone had taken a blowtorch to her skin. She flashed hot and felt herself get wetter, her heart ready to explode from her chest. His hips moved faster, his thrusts deeper, more pointed, rocking her whole body. All the while his thumb stroked her. And then he grabbed her ass in his hands, leaned over her, and lifted her up into his strokes so that his pubic bone ground into her clit on every mind-blowing thrust.