Chapter 12

 

“Are you sure about this?” Seth trailed his fingers up and down Meg’s naked spine with a featherlight touch that made her core contract and skin tingle.

How many times did she have to tell him? She’d given her consent repeatedly, five times at her last count. She really couldn’t understand his hesitance. With any other man, there would have been less discourse, more intercourse. “Please.”

He planted his hands on the bulbs of her ass and paused, briefly, before raking his fingers down and parting her lower lips. His cock’s head pressed against her opening, and her muscles contracted, waiting on him to do something—anything—besides tease.

She wriggled her hips, and behind her, he sighed, increasing his grip on her waist and stilling her.

“No need to—” She couldn’t get the words out, because he worked one of his large fingers between her lips and pressed down her tongue at the same time he shoved his naked cock into her in one intense thrust.

When she cried out, he swirled his finger around her mouth and removed it, pulling his dick out of her slow and easy now that he’d engaged her wetness.

The finger that had been in her mouth moments before found her clit’s hood, and he leaned over her back, thrumming the swollen nub like a guitar string as he increased his pace behind her.

He nudged her legs farther apart and growled out between clenched teeth, “Touch it. I need my hand.”

So she did. She took over the rubbing, squeezing, and plucking he’d been doing, and moaned at the fullness she felt.

With his hands on her hips, he was pulling her back with every thrust he made so his head hit the very end of her, but she could tell he was holding back. His lovemaking seemed scripted rather than unfettered. He was giving her what he thought she should have, instead of what she wanted.

“Harder,” she growled. “I want to feel it tomorrow.”

He grunted something low and foreign and increased his thrusts even more, so the front of his thighs slapped the back of hers, and his balls bounced against the hand she pressed to her mound.

Thick and long, he filled every inch of her, stoking sensitive zones and sending pleasurable contractions up to her belly and tingles down to her curled toes.

“Now you’re cooking with gas, big boy.”

He slowed. “What?”

“Never mind. Do that again. Deeper.” She tried to wriggle her hips again, but his grip was too strong.

“Do you have limits, Megan?” He loosened his hold on her thighs and continued thrusting while reaching beneath her to grab her nipples between his fingertips.

She could only moan as he twisted and squeezed, and her body began to feel boneless and weightless as all of her nerve endings came online at once. “Limits? Yeah. One man at a time.”

He resumed his previous upright position with his hands on her hip bones, and pulled her against him so hard, their skin made a slapping sound. “What else?”

“I—I don’t—” Now wasn’t really a great time to be talking. She vaguely registered lightning streaking the night sky outside and thunder rumbling nearby, but the only thing that seemed important at the moment was her breathing and hoping her heart didn’t stop. She clawed at the rumpled sheets for purchase and dipped her back lower, changing her angle because she feared her legs would give out.

“What kind of toys do you use?”

“You name it.” She drew in a breath and had to clamp her bottom lip between her teeth to hold back the squeaking noise that threatened to erupt from her throat. “I’ve probably bought it and used it. Nothing as big as you, though.”

“Which is your favorite?”

He was asking her that at a time like this?

“Uh…”

He did some swirling, figure-eight thing inside her that made her squeak wordlessly.

“Fuck!”

“Tell me,” he said, voice strained.

She’d been so busy cataloging her own sensations she hadn’t considered that perhaps he might be close, too.

“Uh, it’s a dildo. It’s lifelike.”

“What do you do with it?”

“It’d be…” She pulled her lip between her teeth again and curled her toes against his legs. “It’d be easier to tell you what I don’t do with it. I’ve been single a while.”

“Oh. I see.”

And then she was near, her eyes watering and breath ragged. She was coming hard and loud like she always did with him, and suddenly he pulled out, leaving her ass exposed for seconds before his cockhead pressed against her tighter entrance.

“Lube, where is it? Quickly.”

“Th-that drawer,” she said breathily. “On the right.”

He leaned over her and reached for the drawer with his right hand while massaging her clit with the other.

God.

He was working her up to a peak again, and she’d hardly come down from the first one.

She felt the warm slick of lubricant between her cheeks, and he kept rubbing her as he worked himself in. Her body shook and breaths came out in pants as he pushed past the tight sphincter.

This time he didn’t ask if it was okay, because really—he already had and she’d more or less told him to go for it. He pushed in farther, pausing at each little bend, and stopped when he could go no more.

Thank God, he couldn’t go anymore. She worried she’d burst and whimpered as he pulled and flicked at her clit.

She clawed at the comforter—her eyes watering as he made punishing thrusts into her—and came again when he clamped her tender nub between his fingers.

And then he pulled out, flooding the dips of her back with his hot seed and lowering her belly to the bed.

“I think you’ll probably feel that tomorrow,” he said, and eased off the bed as if he hadn’t just taken a year off her life.

“Yep.” She didn’t bother testing her muscles for soreness. She knew they would be, and didn’t mind a bit.

He returned with a warm, wet cloth and wiped her clean in a tender, though somewhat institutional fashion. Then he discarded the cloth and returned to the bedside, digging around in the piles of discarded clothes and plucking out his boxers.

“Leave ’em off,” she said and patted the bed beside her.

He seemed to make a study of her in the dark for a few seconds, but finally dropped the shorts and climbed onto the bed to her left. Pulling the covers over them both, he said, “I would never hurt you, Megan. Not on purpose.”

That seemed out of the blue, but she couldn’t really see his face in the dark to infer context. She moved closer to his warmth and threw her left leg over his. At the contact, he laid a hand on the small of her back.

“Are you talking physical or otherwise?” she asked.

A long pause, then, “Both.”

“I didn’t think you would. What makes you say that now? Are you surprised I like a little rough play with my sex on occasion?”

“How often is that?”

She shrugged but realized he couldn’t see it. “I don’t know. I like it different ways. I like having options. Sometimes I want a low, slow burn, and sometimes I want a quick, hard come. Do you have a preference?”

“I think I may be on the low, slow burn end of the spectrum. I always have to be careful, so no one has regrets the next day.”

He sounded like he spoke from experience, and if so, that was a goddamned shame.

“Low and slow. Like the first time, then. I’ll remember that.”

He chuckled and moved his hand up and down her back again, warming the skin with the pleasurable massage. She liked this—this afterglow. This unhurried recovery. He made it easy.

“Maybe not that slow, kitten. That was excruciating.”

“Sorry.”

“But to answer your question, maybe I am a bit surprised you like it rough.”

“I give as good as I get.”

“Should I expect you to tie me up next? Flog me?”

She pushed herself up onto her forearms and looked down at his shadowy face, though she couldn’t really discern its features. “No. I think I’d prefer to be the one tied up.”

“Really?”

She shrugged. “Never tried it.”

With him, she would. He could be her perfect dominant. Safe, sane, strong.

If only she could get him to pick up the leash. So far, she was just dragging it along behind her. She needed him to be the kind of man who picked it up and put her where he wanted her…at least in the bedroom. Outside of that, all bets were off.