“I won’t only have you once tonight,” he warned as he slowly dragged his cock out of her, leaving the head inside. “I’ll take you again and again. You’ll be so fucking sore tomorrow.”
“And you like that idea, don’t you?”
Because this was Aspen, because he knew she’d never judge him, he admitted, “Yeah, I do.” He brutally slammed his cock deep with a snarl, bumping her cervix. “I want you sore. Bruised. All marked up.”
He violently hammered into her, his grip tight on her wrists. She didn’t fight him. Didn’t object. She arched into every thrust. He fucking loved that. He didn’t want her to struggle for the hell of it. He wanted to know she’d take him exactly like this. Wanted to see that she got off on it as much as he did.
He bit into her throat. Because yeah it was right there. She came with a scream. He fucked her through her orgasm, leaving suckling bites all over her neck. She didn’t hiss or growl or tell him to stop. She bit him back—right on the jaw. That only made him fuck her harder.
The air rang with moans, grunts, flesh smacking flesh, and the slamming of the headboard against the wall. The aphrodisiac scent of her need surrounded him, drugged him, filled his lungs. Her taste was just as addictive—having it on his tongue as he took her only made it even better.
She soon came again—arching, screaming, milking his dick with her pussy.
He groaned. “Fuck, yeah, keep coming.” Holding her wrists tighter, he mercilessly shoved his cock deep again and again and again. Then he exploded, blasting jet after jet of come inside her.
Utterly sated, he collapsed, burying his face in the crook of her neck. He could easily sleep just like this—his dick still inside her, her pulse beating against his mouth, her body trapped beneath him so there was nowhere she could go. But he had plans for his bearcat, and none involved sleeping.
When he finally had the energy to move, he lifted his head and looked down at her. Her eyelids fluttered open, and her gaze—all warm and languid—met his. No regret there. Good. Would it creep in tomorrow? Maybe. Aspen tended to overthink things. If it happened, he’d deal with it. He’d soothe whatever concerns she had. Because there was absolutely no fucking way this would be the last night he’d ever have her.
It wasn’t the first time she’d woken beside Camden. They’d shared a bed a few times over the years for one reason or another. It wasn’t even the first time she’d woken to find his arm and thigh tossed over her, pinning her in place. But they hadn’t been naked on those occasions, and his hand hadn’t been loosely cupping her breast. Nor had his hard cock been pressed snugly against her bare ass. And as the memories of last night flashed through her brain, Aspen squeezed her eyes shut.
Hell, they’d done it again.
And not even just once. No, he’d taken her three times. It was their third round that wiped her out, and she’d fallen asleep mere minutes afterward.
She wouldn’t lie to herself. She hadn’t been swept away by the moment this time. She hadn’t been “sex drunk,” as Havana called it. No, Aspen had known what she was doing. More, she’d known what she was risking. But she’d risked it anyway. For sex.
Sex she didn’t regret.
Even knowing it hadn’t been wise, she didn’t regret any of what happened last night. She couldn’t even claim that she intended for it to never happen again. Her willpower was relatively nonexistent when it came to Camden. That damn tiger was her weakness. Always had been.
Hence why she’d marked him.
Never in her life had Aspen branded a man. Not once. Not even accidentally in the heat of the moment.
Her bearcat had pestered her to leave a mark on him, but Aspen would be lying if she said she’d only done it to placate the animal. No, she’d done it because she just plain wanted to. And now everyone would see it, and she’d have to deal with Havana and Bailey saying stuff like—
“I can practically hear your mind racing,” Camden said behind her, his voice thick with sleep.
Aspen almost jumped. She hadn’t even realized he was awake.
He nuzzled the back of her shoulder. “Having regrets? Be honest, Aspen. Don’t lie to me while you’re covered in my scent and wearing my marks. Don’t.”
It was tempting to ignore his warning, but it would be pointless to feed him any untruths—he’d easily pick up on it. Besides, she was no coward. “I should.”
“But you don’t?”
“No.”
“Good. Neither do I.”
“Is it good? Really? Because I’m thinking we should be wishing we hadn’t crossed these lines. Again. We stand to lose a lot.”
“We don’t stand to lose anything,” he objected, and she could almost hear the frown in his voice. More, she heard the sincerity in it.