“Don’t need it, sir.” I just need you. Right. Now.
He slid two fingers inside her and her muscles clamped around them. He made a pleased sound under his breath. “Tell me what you want me to do to you, Charli.”
She winced. Why couldn’t he make this easy? Any other guy would see prone girl on counter, naked and willing, and would get right to it. But no. Not Grant. “Sir…”
“Beg me for it, freckles,” he said, something dangerous and enticing in his voice, a pied piper’s tune. “I’m not like other guys. I have no problem walking away unsatisfied to prove a point. So make me believe you don’t want me to do that.”
She bit her bottom lip, her inner feminist urging her to tell him just that—that she didn’t need him. She could walk away, too. Hell, most of the guys she’d slept with had left her unsatisfied. She was used to it. But another deeper, quieter part of her whispered for her to let go and give in, to get her reward for surviving him. She swallowed hard and opened her eyes, staring hard at the fine pattern of the granite, wishing she could turn around and see his face. “Please, sir. I want you to take me. I need you to.”
“Mmm, good girl.” His body pressed against the backs of her thighs and she could tell he was still wearing his jeans. “Stretch out your arms.”
She did as she was told and laid her cheek against the counter. He grabbed her arms and guided them behind her back. The soft leather that he’d hit her with now looped around her wrists. He cinched the belt with a clink, binding her arms. Then, he kicked her heels apart with his booted foot.
She only had a second to realize how at his mercy she was before he was sliding inside her. Hot and thick and every bit as toe curling as she’d imagined. Every muscle in her body seemed to contract at the sweet invasion. A low moan drifted off her lips as he eased in, stretching her and taking his time burying himself inside her.
“Fuck,” he murmured under his breath. His hand gripped her shoulder, as if he was trying to hold on to something within himself. “Am I hurting you? You’re, God…you feel so…”
The fit was snug, her tissues tender, no doubt from her long bout of celibacy, but pain was definitely not how she would describe it. Fantastically intense was more like it. “No, sir. Feels…amazing.”
At her words, she felt the tension in his grip ease a bit, and he canted his hips back, dragging himself almost all the way out then pushing deep again. Sensation went through her like ripples over the water. He groaned. “You’re right about that.”
She wiggled beneath him, an involuntary movement, her body craving more than the slow-and-sensual approach.
“Why so squirmy, beautiful?” he teased. “Not a fan of nice and easy?”
“Not right now…sir.”
“Dirty girl. Hard and fast it is, then.” His easy rhythm dialed up, and soon she was sliding back and forth across the counter, her skin slippery with sweat and highly sensitized, and the belt pressing into her tender wrists. The sound of his thighs hitting the back of hers and their shared moans supplied an erotic soundtrack she knew would haunt her fantasies.
His free hand wrapped around the front of her hip and found her swollen clit. She bucked against him, but he held her in place with ease. His fingers slid along the slick tissues and pinched gently, winding the tension inside her into a tight, glowing ball. Her breath caught in her throat.
“That’s right. Give me your pleasure. Come for me, darlin’.”Author: Roni Loren
His pace turned NASCAR worthy, and his talented fingers did a move that made her nerves sing. Her body rocked against the counter, her back arching, and the glowing ball inside her burst into a hundred flecks of illuminated sensation. She lost conscious control of her body. Her head lifted and a sound unlike any that had ever come out of her filled the quiet cabin.
A deeper groan came from Grant, and his grip on her arms turned demanding as he reached his own release. Her name tumbled from his lips, and she couldn’t ever remember her own name sounding so sexy. She closed her eyes and let herself fall into the afterglow with him.
Seconds—or maybe minutes—passed with both of them locked in that dreamy place of dwindling bliss, his body draped over her back. She wasn’t sure she ever wanted to get up. But once the only noise in the cabin had returned to the droning fridge and the ticking clock, Grant freed her arms and slipped out of her. His voice was low. “Stay there. I’ll be right back.”
No problem. She wasn’t sure she could move. Her muscles may have dissolved.
Before she knew it, he was back with a warm, wet cloth, attending to her. Then his palm was sliding over the spots where he’d hit her, rubbing in some sort of balm that cooled her skin. She knew when she looked back at this moment, she’d probably feel embarrassed, but right now she was buzzing too much from the orgasm to care.
“Can you stand up, Charli?” he asked, his voice all soft, rounded edges now.
She pushed herself onto her elbows then rose. He wrapped a robe around her from behind and rubbed her arms, making them tingle and bringing some feeling back into them.
“You okay?” he asked.
She turned around to find him looking like she’d left him. Fully dressed and wearing a frown. For the first time, she registered that he hadn’t let her touch him or see him naked. He probably had only pushed down his pants and taken her. And he still hadn’t kissed her. She’d let him hit her, restrain her, and fuck her, yet they hadn’t had a first kiss.
The realization dampened her buzz. “I’m…fine.”
He put his finger beneath her chin and studied her face, her eyes. “You’re upset.”
“I’m not.” But the declaration sounded hollow even to her own ears. She didn’t know what she was. Confused, mostly.
He deepened his frown, staring at her for another moment and apparently confirming whatever it was he was sensing. He lowered his hand and sighed. “I’m sorry, Charli. This was a bad idea.”