Rough Rhythm: A Made in Jersey Novella (1001 Dark Nights)(18)

“Did you ever stop to think about how a man looks…when he’s got a woman beneath him?” His voice was a boom of bass in the darkness. “When he’s finally got one mounted and spread?”

Her breath feathered his ear. “N-no.”

“No?” James slipped free of her perfection and rolled himself forward again, noting how her knees shot high every time he thrust. God, he would love to film that little move so he could replay it for her. Make her look at the effect of his plunging cock on her lithe body. “Men were made with this length of flesh that only fits one place. Inside a woman. And that flesh gets hard all the f*cking time, always aching for that space between a woman’s legs. Where it was made to fit.” He punctuated his final word with a hard thrust, groaning at the way her tits shook. “I’m an animal just like the rest of them. Wanting to get on top of a woman and ride her rough, close my eyes and f*ck until the hard flesh we were cursed with doesn’t hurt anymore.”

Lita renewed her attempts to get free beneath him, ramming the heel of her hand into his pectoral and shifting her hips, heels digging into the desk. All useless movements, despite their vigor. It was dark in the room and her eyes were shadowed, but the dipping of his right shoulder caused light from the bathroom to illuminate her face. Her eyes were glassy but focused on him. Hair a mess, mouth puffy. God, he’d never seen anything sexier in his life. My Lita.

Rocked by need and undeniable relief that this experience with Lita was far better than some anonymous fantasy, James held her down and bucked his hips, again and again. He was the embodiment of desperate aggression, sliding her body down to meet each thrust, grunting as she sheathed his dick with little cries. Cries that sounded like submission, an offering to the beast harnessed inside him so long. The hands pushing his shoulders were losing their determination, hesitating as if they wanted to tug him closer instead. And James could do nothing but slake his lust. Just bury his face in her neck and strive with each pistoning thrust to get deeper. Deeper. “Oh God, oh God, oh God…” Lita moaned into his shoulder, her voice vibrating with the force of his drives.

“Some men are after relief and they don’t care who gives it to them,” he grated into her neck. “Now imagine a man who only gets hard for one woman. Imagine it’s a never-ending battle to hide his erect cock because she’s always around. Giving him little pinkie waves and whining his name, knowing full well what it does to him. I’ve wanted to f*ck you all day, every day, since you showed up. Goddammit, you little tease.”

Lita’s hands were on his ass now, their game having shattered apart with his admissions. Head back, mouth open, tits bouncing, she jerked him forward into the promise of relief her body represented. Her knees were hooked under his elbows now, but he couldn’t remember getting them there. Couldn’t think around the way her wet * squeezed him, her husky moans of his name. “Please, James…”

He threw her right leg over his shoulder, freeing his hand to stroke her clit. Damn, her body’s reaction to that touch almost choked the seed from his dick, making him pound all the harder into her tightened-up entrance. Need to come, need to come. “You put me in so much f*cking pain, Lita. Take me out of it.” The sounds of their bodies joining filled the darkness. Slaps, strokes, and moans. “Taking it raw, aren’t you, plaything? Loving that big, bare cock, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You want me to coat the inside of you? Fill you full?” His mouth latched onto hers for a slippery, sensual kiss. “Give me yours first.”

James pressed his thumb down on her clit and dragged the button of flesh up through her wetness, before letting it go. Doing it again. Her flesh began to shake against his hand, her cries going off like fireworks in a night sky. She fought against him again for a different reason. She was pinned by his thrusting hips, straight through the climax. “Too much.” Her fingernails clawed at his neck, his upper back. “Too much.”

The pain of her scratching made his release a sharper kind of bliss. He opened his mouth but no sound came out—the pleasure had trapped it all inside. Lita’s mouth was his only tether to reality as he shot from the cannon, hanging in the atmosphere as his body weathered a release so complete, it wouldn’t allow him to breathe. Just kiss her. Her. Lita. Finally, he was forced to rip his mouth away to intake oxygen and Lita was right there with him, gulping in air.

Sweat coated their bodies, but James couldn’t deal with being parted from her, so he lifted her limp body into his arms and walked to the bed.

When James laid her down, she dropped a hand onto her lifting and falling belly. “I need…”

Lita trailed off without finishing, making one corner of James’s mouth lift. She trusted him to know what she meant, knew he would. He returned from the bathroom a minute later with a towel and a glass of water, handing her the drink while he cherished the task of cleaning himself from her body. Thoughts about tomorrow and next week tried to invade the long-needed relative calm in his mind, but he barred them entry. The morning would be soon enough to debate the future. For now, holding a sleeping Lita was the only thought worthy of entertaining. Something he’d needed to do every night for four years, but hadn’t allowed himself the privilege.

Looking over her body to reassure himself there were no marks, James laid down behind Lita, pressing his chest to her back. His eyelids drooped—from exhaustion, tenderness, renewed need—when she snuggled closer, fitting her bottom to his groin. “James?”