Warrior (First to Fight #1)(8)
“Fuck, baby, you’re killing me,” I murmur hoarsely.
She releases my arms and I attack. My fingers are no longer teasing or tempting as they strip her of her bikini bottoms, but insistent. The moment she’s completely bare to me, she slicks herself over the length of my cock like she can’t resist the simple friction of skin against skin.
“Ben,” she manages to choke out. “I can’t—”
I capture her lips. “I can. Just hold on to me.”
She sobs with pleasure as I guide myself to her entrance, her fingers digging into the muscles of my shoulders. Lowering herself down an inch, two, she groans softly, sweetly. I arch my neck, nearly delirious with the rightness of it.
This, is all I can think. Everything about this and only this.
I grip her hips and pull her the rest of the way down until we are thigh to thigh and I can’t get enough. She pauses for a beat, maybe two, before she begins to move over me, seeking her own pleasure. I nip at her neck, repeating the simple movements I know make her crazy, arching my hips in time to tease her clit, nibbling her ear.
“Is that how you want it, Liv?” I ask. She mumbles something unintelligible in response. “Are you gonna come? I want to feel you come for me.”
I don’t even have to do anything other than urge her hips to keep our passionate rhythm and whisper all the filthy things I want to do to her before she tightens over me again—a tangle of want—and explodes.
I only manage to keep the sweet, steady pace long enough to work her through her orgasm before I follow right behind, lips pressed to her neck, clutching her around the waist like my life depends on it.
And my last thoughts as I follow her toward ecstasy are of how I want her to remember this moment as much as I know I will. I want to burn the memory of this night into her very core. I want her dreams to be of me, of this. I want the ghost of my touch to haunt her every day until I come back.
SWEAT SLICKS OUR skin together, but I can’t seem to find the energy to move. I’m drunk on the scent of him. Of us. Aftershocks dance along my spine causing me to shiver against him. We fell into Ben’s hotel room at some point, several hours ago, in a tangle of arms and tongues and moans. Our relentless exploration of each other frenzied with hurry like we cannot get enough, while lazy and reverent at the same time, like we never want it to end.
His hands tighten against me and he groans. “Don’t move for a second.”
I look down at him. “Why? Got a cramp?”
“No, you feel so good and considering that I’m going to be surrounded by a bunch of dudes for the next year, I want to remember this feeling.”
My mouth drops open and I slap his shoulder. “You are such an ass.”
He smiles and I feel his cock harden inside of me. My eyes widen in response, and I let out a soft groan. “I f*ckin’ love it when you get feisty. Must be the red hair.”
He moves below me and all of the sensitive nerve endings he’d stoked to life send ripples of pleasure throughout me. “It’s not the hair, it’s because you can be a jackass and unlike the other bimbos in your life, I’m not afraid to tell you.”
“No,” he says, “I don’t think that’s it. You just like arguing.”
He angles his hips and hits a spot that has lights playing behind my closed lids. As the muscles in my stomach tighten, I try to focus. “I do not.”
“Don’t worry, Spitfire. I like it when you argue with me. You turn pink in some of my favorite places. If you come for me again, I’ll show you where they are.”
“I do not!” I try to protest but it’s pretty useless because I can’t stop smiling.
“Mmm-hmm.” He slips a hand between us and my head drops back. “We can move over by the mirror, I’ll set you up in front of it and make you watch while I show you. How does that sound?”
My body thinks that sounds like the best idea ever and within seconds, I come with a muffled scream.
“I think you like arguing with me, too,” he whispers in my ear.
It’s morning and I’ve been up for hours trying to turn back the clock. I got little to no sleep and I have the resulting aches and pains from a night of furious marathon sex to prove it. I stretch and feel the reassuring hardness of him at my back. The arm wrapped around my waist tightens and pulls me even closer to his warmth as he wakes.
My stomach clenches in delicious anticipation. Although I’ve done some crazy things in my past, I can’t even begin to explain how I wound up in bed with my brother’s best friend.
The jacket he used as a makeshift sheet comes loose as he tugs. It caresses the length of my body, and I feel it as potently as I did when he first touched me. I lie on my side, turned away from him, but I sense his gaze following the movement of the jacket as it reveals the side of my breasts, the dip of my waist and the flare of my hips. The scent of leather heightens my awareness until I’m nearly trembling in anticipation.
He pauses, studying me for a moment, and my breath catches in my throat. Then I hear the rip of a condom wrapper. After our impetuous sex in his truck, he made a point to wear a condom for each subsequent bout between the sheets. He pulls my body flush against his, and the heat of it feels like a brand. I can’t help the moan that escapes my lips, even if I tried. His left hand snakes under me to turn my head to his kiss, while his right cocks my thigh over his leg.