Page 22 of A Night by My Fire

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As if he was going to feast, he lined her up, pulling her closer to his mouth. Warm lips skimmed her nipple so lightly it was almost as if he were not there, like being kissed by a ghost, until he chose to latch on, to suck as much of her flesh into his mouth as he could.

His brashness, the way his knee pressed right against her mound. Unsure what the hell was wrong with her, River rolled her hips in search of friction.

He came up for breath, but he was far from done. River didn’t squeak or shy when he gripped that swollen breast, when he pinched the nipple to see if it might grow more flushed. The woman let out a pant, one single, wracking shiver, and he found he wanted to make her do it again.

Pale eyes darted up to a face he’d memorized, only to find River’s lips parted, her cheeks flushed in an all new expression. “You enjoy this?”

Breathless, she spoke nonsense, “If I say yes, it will only prove that I have lost my mind.”

That was confirmation enough. Stephen began tugging the bunched sweater fully over her head. “You will spread your legs for me.”

Raking his face over her to hear more of that mewl, feeling himself swell large in his pants, he wanted to show his girth to her, so she might know she’d inspired such a reaction. He wanted to put it in her, and do what males were designed to do. Most of all he wanted her to reciprocate. “Touch me.”

“Where?”

Would she dare to tease? “Everywhere.”

Palms settled right at his collar bones, and smoothed lower, fisting the fabric of his thermal to pull it up as he’d done to her. He helped her, shedding it quickly. His body was grand, he knew it was—the woman should see, as she’d seen when she gaped at him from the door the previous night.

His trainers had complimented his physique, River would too.

But she remained silent, that nervous tongue darting out again at the view of so much mass. Stephen was on the border of ordering her regard, but the woman leaned forward, and she flicked her tongue in the soft hollow of his throat.

Nothing had ever felt so moving.

He was the one panting, reaching to take the rest of her clothes and stripping her naked so fast fabric tore.

“Careful.” River was nervous, and one word seemed to mellow her would-be paramour.

Stephen stripped himself much more cautiously, pressed her legs apart, and answered her apprehension. She’d hardly had more than a glimpse of what bobbed, kissing her opening. The tentative strokes were gone. Instead he rose up over her, beholding where he longed to push forth, just to see what she looked like where she quivered and was expectant of him.

***

There was no silly slapping of her pussy with his girth, no spitting on his hand as others had done before him—things, River was certain, some third-rate seventies porn had glamorized and every man who’d seen it since thought was some spectacular bedroom move. No, he braced, tense, with a look in his eye as his cock nested. It turned her on... because that look was hers and had never belonged to another.

But she had to warn him. “I don’t... protection—”

The stranger cut her off, head racing up to glare. “There is nothing that could protect you from me.”

Chuckling at his inability to grasp that she referred to a condom, River found her mouth silenced when he surged full inside and stole her breath. All laughter forgotten, her hole spasmed when a flurry of neglected internal muscles shut her up. A throat noise, her heart beating in her ears—she felt so full.

He held her there, gauging the slippery grip for himself, soaking in her reaction to him. “Do I feel good inside you?”

Fuck, he felt like something else entirely. Mute, River nodded and breathed out a soft moan, the nearest thing she could create in verbal affirmative. As he flexed to withdraw, she made her tongue form words, “You need to take it slow... it’s been awhile for me.”

“I move at the pace I choose.”

The Neanderthal growl and man’s hoarse demand should not have made her cream around his dick... but it did. She was dripping for him, feeling it seep when he pulled out so slow it was deliberate—a reminder that no matter the tempo, he was in charge, she was to follow, and all would be satisfied should she obey.

She almost came at the thought... more than willing to admit she might have been a little fucked up in the head.

His second penetration mirrored the withdrawal. Slow—infinitely slow—as if he wanted to feel each separate nerve of his cock learning a cunt... so he might imprint it onto his person. It would have been clinical had his eyes not widened in awe.

The man fucking loved it just as much, if not more, than she did.

Raising her legs to hook at his back brought a growl of warning from the stranger hovering over her, until he felt the angle and squeeze, recognizing her heels dug into his glutes because her body craved more. He drew it out, three more slow plunges, grinding in when she willingly sucked him fully inside her belly.

The noises he could inspire when he did that... it seemed the man wanted to know just what other response he could create. It became a game. Hard, forceful thrusts made him groan and her squirm. Steady pacing, teasing at her mound with his pelvis and her head rolled back, River’s loud moans making his balls clench.


Tags: Addison Cain Romance