Wild (The Ivy Chronicles #3)(41)

“I hate that you might have been with him. That I taunted you into it. I want him to eat my fist if he even touched you, but it won’t change anything between us either.” His chest lifted on a breath. “I want you, Georgia.”

I sucked in a ragged breath. I’d backed up into the kitchen area. The table bumped the backs of my thighs.

“I-I wasn’t with him.” I didn’t have to tell him this, but the starkness of his gaze, the bluntness of his words compelled the words from me.

His features eased with relief. His eyes roamed my face and his voice came out hoarsely. “Tell me to leave.”

I blinked, confused and bewildered at the request. He stepped forward another pace until we were chest to chest.

My senses reeled, overwhelmed at his closeness, the push of his chest against my breasts, the breadth of him surrounding me.

“Tell me to leave,” he repeated, his hands reaching for the hem of my dress. His gaze held mine for a fraction of a second, but I couldn’t find my voice.

In one swift move, he pulled my dress over my head, leaving me pressed between him and the table in nothing but black panties and bra.

The only sound was the distant hum of the bar below us and the rasp of our breath.

“Tell me to leave,” he repeated, his voice harder, his eyes like flint.

When I didn’t say anything, his mouth covered mine and he simultaneously lifted me up on the table. He broke away for a split second to pull his shirt off, not giving me nearly enough time to appreciate that sight, and then his mouth came back down on mine, kissing me so hard that my head bent back.

With a move I could hardly process, he flicked open the clasp of my bra at my back. The black satin straps slid loose off my shoulders and I released my hands from where they clung to his biceps to shrug it free.

My legs came around his hips and his bigger hands were under me, cupping my bottom.

His lips moved against mine with the same request. “Tell me to leave.”

Air crashed from my lips, fanning his mouth. I felt like I had sprinted a race. “No.”

That single word spurred him to action. He was all movement again. Strength and power. His hands tore my panties off me, and I gasped, stunned and turned on and electrified.

He didn’t stop kissing me. Never once. I didn’t know kissing could be like this. Long, drugging, endless kisses that squeezed the coil in my belly tighter and tighter. I didn’t want him to step back and put any space between our bodies. Even that brief separation would kill me. I was sure of it.

I heard the snap of his jeans and the sliding teeth of a zipper. There was a crinkle of a wrapper and it registered through the haze that he had a condom.

Oh, God. This was really happening. He’d given me plenty of opportunities to stop. To tell him to leave. This was my choice. I wanted this. I wanted him.

He pulled back and I whimpered at the loss of him, biting my lip as I watched him roll on the condom. Some of my excitement edged into anxiety as I stared at the size of him.

“Don’t do that,” he growled as his hands came back to my hips again and hauled me to the edge of the table in one sliding motion.

“Do what?” I gasped as he lightly bit down on my throat. I cried out, pleasure-pain shooting through me as he followed the nip with a stroke of his tongue.

“Think.”

“I-I don’t think you’re going to fit.”

“I’ll fit,” he assured, his hand diving between our bodies. His fingers glided against me, teasing me for a moment before easing one inside. I moaned. “See, Pearls. You’re so wet for me.”

I nodded drunkenly as he curled that finger up inside me, hitting some secret spot that sent me careening over the edge.

He made a sound of appreciation. “You’re past ready.”

I nodded again, insensible, aching, my body clenching in need.

And then he was there. Hard and big, pushing inside me. His hands held tight to my hips, anchoring me as he drove in to the hilt.

I whimpered, the sensation of his pulsing cock alien and overwhelming. I wasn’t a virgin, but he made me feel like one. All of this . . . him . . . felt so new.

His eyes blazed down at me. “God, you’re tight.”

“It’s been a while,” I gasped.

“I can tell.”

I made an inarticulate sound in response to that as he moved again, stretching me. His shoulders and arms quivered and I could tell he was restraining himself from moving faster, but the slow friction of him sliding out and in again stoked the ache back to life.

“God,” I moaned. “I can’t take it.”

His eyes sparked fire and he drove into me, sliding me back on the table. He changed his grip on me, fingers digging into the swells of my ass, locking me into position for the hammering of his body. “You can take it.”

I nodded. Incoherent. Sensation rippled down my spine and twisted around to the pit of my stomach. I felt him deep. Deeper than I ever thought possible. I came in a flash, shuddering with a piercing cry. I’d never been loud and my face burned until the sensations started all over again as he continued to stroke inside me.

He laughed low and deep, the sound a purr that vibrated through me. “So you’re a screamer,” he breathed against my ear. “That’s f*cking hot. Keep screaming. Show me how much you love this.”

I shook my head, for some reason defiant, even though I reveled in his body driving into mine. I didn’t know why I fought it. He’d made me come twice tonight and now I was headed for a third orgasm. For a girl who never got off during a four-year relationship it was nothing short of a miracle.