She nodded and forced herself to relax.
His lips trailed over her temple, stopping in the center of her forehead. She felt his muscles tense a split second before he drove home. With a sucked in breath at the flash of pain, Hope’s knees shot up and dug into Johnny’s ribcage, which was dipping and expanding on shallow breaths. God, oh God, he was so huge inside of her, she literally felt pinned to the mattress. If he moved, she was going to scream. Just as her nerves starting to win, she heard Johnny’s voice in her ear. It wasn’t just any song he sang, either. It was “Undertow.” The song that had never made it to a full album, was never sung at concerts.
The one he shared with no one.
And it was like a balm spreading across every fiber of her being.
“When my work is spinning and the lights go low. Who will save me from the undertow…?” he finished the song, meeting her eyes. “How’d I write a song for you when we hadn’t met yet, baby?”
Oh wow. I’m in love with Johnny Scott.
The moment engraved itself on her soul, never to be taken away. Her heart’s decision never to be reversed. She was in love with this man, the one she’d met tonight, and her body relaxed, accepting his larger one, softening around his hardness. Johnny must have felt the way she melted around him, because his mouth fell open on a groan, hips twisting, giving a hard push forward and sliding Hope’s body up and back on the comforter.
Pleasure spiked in her belly like a streak of lightning across the sky and she sobbed his name, her hips lifting off the bed to meet his next thrust. The impact of his drives grew more and more intense until Hope’s head met the headboard and Johnny had to brace a hand there to keep her from getting hurt, but his lower body never ceased its rough thrusts, his mouth never stopped devouring hers, only breaking away for ragged inhales of oxygen.
“Hope?”
“Yes,” she managed, receiving a hard grind of his shaft, deep, deep inside her.
“This is fucking. You don’t do it with anyone but me. Ever.”
A muscle beneath her belly button spasmed and twisted, signing the mother of all climaxes, if she wasn’t mistaken, because that never happened before. “Like I’d want to be with anyone else.”
She heard him swallow. “This is making love, too. I get that all to myself as well.”
“Yes, Johnny.”
Johnny laid his hand over her heart. “Mine.” He sank her into a quick but thorough kiss, her blood rushing at the sensation of his rigid flesh pulsing, hot and thick inside of her. Eager, needing satisfaction. “Claim me back now,” he breathed, raking his open mouth down to the hollow of her throat and back up to her ear. “I want words from you.”
“Mine back,” Hope whispered, her fingers fluttering over his heartbeat.
“Say it louder,” Johnny ordered, nipping her lobe with his teeth.
“Mine back!”
“That’s right. Now give me the rest. You own this cock now and you better say so.”
Oh God. Ticklish warmth drifted lower in Hope’s belly and her hips bucked involuntarily, as if Johnny held the puppet strings to her pleasure. Could she say something like that out loud? She wanted to, she realized. His possessiveness was coaxing her own to life and before she knew it, her mouth was opening, letting out a throaty voice she barely recognized. “I own it.”
He rammed into her with a growl, making the headboard slap against the wall. “Own what? Or maybe you need me to put it in your mouth until you know what it’s called.”
That idea excited Hope, but right now, if he stopped pumping in and out of her body, driving her toward the precipice, she might die. “I own your cock,” she gasped. “It’s mine.”
“Fuck. Almost busted hearing you say that. Good girl,” he pushed through clenched teeth. “Now open your thighs a little wider, baby, and let me work your clit. You’ve already got me ready to finish.”
“When I open my legs wider, you feel so big.”
His expression was at once both sympathetic and hungry. “Feel so big, how?”
“Like I can’t tell where the pleasure is going to end…it almost hurts how good it feels.”
“Lean into it.” His hips worked faster, those big hands scooping beneath her body to cup her bottom, hold her steady while he claimed her again and again with harsh groans, the bed beginning to creak under them. “I’ve got you, Hope. Legs wide. I need to get deeper.”
“But—”
Johnny’s forehead met hers and his internationally renowned lead singer voice emerged in a powerful growl. “Open your fucking thighs, girl.”
Hope’s body obeyed without permission from her brain. She whimpered, her knees hit the mattress, Johnny surged forward and went even deeper than Hope knew was possible—and she toppled off the cliff of pleasure with a startled scream. Her toes dug into the bed, her fingernails raking down Johnny’s back and pain, relief, bliss scrambled her senses, clenching and unclenching the tiny muscles at her core. She watched through half-mast eyes as the most beautiful man alive bit down on his lower lip, his big, tattooed shoulders starting to shake, and was awestruck at the heaven they’d just given each other. Sticky heat bloomed between her legs and she tightened her legs around Johnny’s hips on instinct, wanted to keep everything their bodies had produced together.