He leaned in and delivered a molten hot, dripping wet, over-the-shoulder kiss. I could taste myself on his tongue, all sweet and musky and sensual.
“No hold on…”
Nathan’s mouth moved to my neck, causing me to arch my back and sigh. At the same time, his hard body spooned itself against mine. I could feel the strength there. The raw power of muscles upon muscles, especially in his abdominals, pressed into the warm hollow of my back.
Two hands closed over mine, grinding my fingers into the headboard as he devoured my shoulder with his hot mouth. I felt a flash of pain — replaced almost instantly by the smooth pleasure of his hard cock probing against my wet entrance.
“Ready?” he growled, nuzzling my ear.
I spread my knees slightly more and nodded. The anticipation was overwhelming.
“Say it.”
“I—I’m read—”
Nathan didn’t even wait for me to finish. Instead he shoved himself gloriously home, eliciting something from my already-open mouth that was half-gasp, half-sigh, half-scream.
And yes, the three-halves rule applied. Because it was so much more than anything else that had ever happened to me in this godforsaken bed.
“Fuck you’re tight like this.”
His voice was sexy, sultry… and it was driving me absolutely insane. Add in all the heavy breathing in my ear and the feel of him filling me up from behind, and I was one happy, happy girl.
“Fuck me hard…”
I all but whispered the words. He heard them anyway. Nathan began drilling into me, using his whole body to screw mine into my precious, decorative headboard. My nails became claws, scratching marks into the finish. Marks I should’ve put here months and years ago, only no one had done me right like this.
It was difficult, looking around this apartment now. Everywhere I glanced, I saw the remnants of false hopes and shattered dreams. From the cheap paintings I’d hung when I first moved in, promising to replace them when I had the means, to the tiny television I never got around to upgrading. Every mote of dust on these things represented failure — a failure to do better, despite my own empty promises over two and a half years’ worth of struggle.
Either that, or I just sucked at cleaning.
Even so, the hardest thing to look at was the mason jar on the highest shelf. It was supposed to be filled with money by now — the down payment for my tuition, to go back to culinary school. Instead, I’d filled it to the brim with sea shells. Partly because seeing it empty was so fucking depressing, but mostly because sea shells were just plain free.
It would be damned good to get out of here. Good to be somewhere else. Someplace new, filled with life and people and things like this…
“FUCK, Nathan…”
I was moaning even louder now. Shouting back over my shoulder in challenge to my lover’s rhythmic thrusts. Nathan took up the gauntlet by screwing me harder, his hands squeezing tightly over mine. The soft stubble of his chin grazing my shoulder as we went cheek-to-cheek.
“Good?”
“Yes!” I breathed.
“Great?”
I growled and smirked back at him. “Maybe…”
Nathan chuckled evilly and took the bait. He picked up the pace, and for the next several minutes he fucked me unmercifully, without even a hint of slowing down. His body was a machine, his cock a well-oiled piston hammering into my body. Over and over we pounded my headboard into the wall, with me grunting and yelling the whole time.
Holy shit, Kayleen.
My eyes fluttered open. Paint chips were falling now, scattering across the floor like snow. It was the middle of the day, so I could only pray the neighbors weren’t home. That they wouldn’t hear the sounds coming from my bedroom, and call 911 to report a murder.
Where has this guy been all your life?
That was a good fucking question. Because the guys I’d been bringing home had never even noticed my headboard, much less used it to ride me into oblivion.
“Oh fuck!” I cried, as my biggest climax yet threatened to wash over me. “Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh—”