Thrown Down (Made in Jersey #2)(43)

“Mine.” The single hoarse word was accompanied by the two fingers he slid inside her, easing them deep, rotating, pulling back out, using the dampness he took away to lubricate the condom he rolled down his swollen inches. “Go ahead. Give me that look over your shoulder. You know the one I want.”

A visible shudder rippled up her back, but she tossed that blonde hair and turned her head, giving him that beautiful profile, complete with puffy, parted lips. And then she turned a few more degrees, hit him with blue eyes, and slowly shifted her bare ass against his lap. “Come and get it,” she whispered.

Vaughn fell over her like a f*ck-hungry prison inmate, planting one fist on the couch beside her face, using the other to guide his cock home. A thrust of his hips and he was ensconced in her tight welcome, the hot curve of her ass pressed to his belly. Christ. Jesus Christ. Every time with River felt like his very first sex act, pressure mounting in his balls before he could take a single pump. He could see the shocked O of her open mouth as her face was still turned to the side, cheek pressed to the couch cushion. “Same way for you, isn’t it? It’s like getting your first cock all over again, right, doll?” He tested her heat with a teasing jerk of his hips, forcing a muffled moan from her mouth. “And who was your first?”

“You were.”

Vaughn inserted a foot into the center of River’s splayed stance, pushing her legs wider, allowing his dick to sink even deeper on gusty, simultaneous sighs. “Tight as the day I broke you in,” he whispered into her hair, taking a moment to savor the way their bodies curved over the sofa arm, how much control he had over when and how they moved. How compact and supple she felt beneath him. Trusting him. “I didn’t think you could get any more important…any more f*cking precious to me than you were that day. And then I lived forty-nine months without you.”

Eyes clenched shut, Vaughn reared back and drove forward, dropping his face into the crook of River’s neck, barely able to withstand the intensity of being inside her again. Of feeling that severed connection joining, repairing, against odds that had been stacked a mile high. Their fisted hands moved closer, closer, until they were joined together on the cushion, fused as one, same as their lower bodies.

“Squeeze my hand when I hit your spot,” Vaughn ordered, sounding as if his vocal chords were being strangled. He loosened his buttock muscles, allowing his achy cock to slip mostly free, before tightening them on a deep drive, pushing from his feet for extra leverage, ramming River’s hips up against the couch’s arm. When she moaned a string of unintelligible words, fingers attempting to crush his, Vaughn knew exactly what she meant. “Smacked right up against it, didn’t I?” He gave her another rough pound, loving the sound of flesh bumping flesh, his balls swinging up to reacquaint themselves with River’s underside. “Fuck. You hear that little slapping sound? If I jerk myself off with enough soap in the shower, I can almost recreate it. Almost. But never just as perfect. Nothing is that sweet and perfect.” The tempo of his pumps increased out of necessity, a storm building in his stomach. “Didn’t stop me from trying every chance I got, did it, doll? Imagining you taking me, hard as I could give it, getting slapped with my flesh as a reward for being brave.”

River released a long moan into the sofa, her shoulders beginning to fill with tension, her back arching against his chest. “Vaughn, please. Vaughn, please.”

“Tell me when you’re close, and I’ll drill that spot, Riv.” His mouth was making a mess out of her hair, rummaging through it, breathing through the fragrant strands. “My cock hurts from missing you, wants to coat you. Just let me get you a little closer so I don’t leave you behind.”

To anyone else, he might not be making sense, but River’s head bobbed, hand tightening in his grip. “I’m…just a little harder. Harder.”

Vaughn could feel the mask of pure agony take over his face, as he obliged his woman’s needs—needs he would have walked over a barren desert full of live mines to fulfill. The stiff couch arm kept River from budging—not even a centimeter—as he quickened his pace, grunts punctuating the air now. Sweat rolling down the sides of his face. The furniture scuffed on the floor, lifting up and banging back down against the carpeted floor with coarse thuds. “How close, how close, how close,” he chanted, his teeth skimming up and down her neck, over her damp shoulders. Both hands slipped beneath her body, palming her tits and tweaking the stiff nipples, showing them no mercy. “It’s going to sting when you clean yourself in the shower tomorrow morning. Every f*cking morning from now on. And I want you to tell me all about it. Get mad at me, get turned on. Just tell me how your * feels the morning after I f*ck it. That’s my privilege, you hear me?”

“Yes,” River gasped. “Close, I’m really close.”

Vaughn dropped his hand from River’s tits before delivering a sharp spank to both nipples, the smooth undersides of her bouncing orbs. Then harder, with more force, as his dick pinned her with brutal thrusts to the elevated couch arm. “Watch me over that shoulder. Show me how you look at your man.”

He could tell it was an effort for River to focus on him, but that line of invisible wire between them was a requirement. It heated and glowed as his hips reached their peak speed, leaving and filling so fast, the sound of smacking blurred together in a continuous, filthy noise. Smacksmacksmacksmack.