Sixteen
Camille
He wasn’t wrong.
God, hewasn’twrong which had to mean I was some kind of freak.
Even in a sham marriage, who the hell wanted to attend their wedding covered in a man’s release?
The idea should revolt me, but it didn’t. If anything, it had my hips tilting back, the muscles in my thighs tightening. With the way he positioned me, it was a little hard to breathe, but I got into it as he started to thrust against me, and my heart began to pound, sending tidal waves of adrenaline through my blood.
A moan escaped me when he put pressure on his dick as it nudged my clit, and I pressed my head back into the pillow, my body tensing and releasing as I felt the heat surge through me, much as it had done last night.
He followed through, moving down the length of my cunt, not stopping until the tip surged into my pussy, just the barest half-inch, enough to coat him with more cream that magically appeared from out of nowhere.
Well, not nowhere, but in comparison to the Sahara of before, I felt like the Hoover Dam, for Christ’s sake.
My hands clenched into fists behind my head, and the sweet whisper of pain from that move had my moan morphing into a groan.
At the sound, he paused, and I blinked up at him, feeling dazed and hazy but also so bewilderingly close to climaxing that I wanted to tell him to hurry up, but Brennan wasn’t the kind of man you ordered around.
A fact I liked.
A fact that reminded me of Nyx.
I knew I shouldn’t think of him at a moment such as this, but he was my only comparison, what else was I supposed to do?
Right now, Nyx fell short.
A gasp escaped me when Brennan tilted forward, pushing more weight on my chest. I shouldn’t like that, I really shouldn’t, but I loved how he got in my face. Loved how he didn’t let me hide.
It had been a day, a single day, and already I felt as if he’d seen more of me than most people ever had.
The thought had anxiety whispering through me, anguish too. Thank God his plan was still to get married today. If I had to wait, I knew I’d turn into a nervous wreck. Trying to please him only to piss him off—I’d thought showing him my tits would get him hot. Instead, it had triggered this.
And now, with him looming over me, I wasn’t sure what I’d done wrong, but as oxygen sluggishly filtered into my system because he was damn heavy and compressed my lungs like I was a set of bellows for the fireplace, I just knew I wanted to please him because that orgasm?
I wanted it again.
“I told you not to do that,” he rumbled, and with all his weight on me as he pressed me into the bed, he reached up and dragged my hands down. “Hold them flat to the bed. If you want pain, I’ll give you pain, but you’re going to let those heal. If they bleed again, you’ll regret it,” he warned, and the flash of anger didn’t scare me. I was too used to feeling a man’s wrath aimed my way, but it was the reason for his anger that had my heart skipping a beat.
Which was pretty unfortunate with my current position.
Dark spots began dancing around the edges of my vision, and instead of asking him to get off me, I did as he asked, pressed my hands to the sheets, and let them lay flat.
With all that pressure, he had to work harder to thrust against my pussy, but he did it, and it felt like heaven and hell especially when he tilted his head to the side, pressed his teeth to the meat of my calf and bit down.
Not a love bite.
Not a nip.
A full on bite.
So hard that I wasn’t sure if he was going to break the skin. So full on that the agony of it had me howling and bucking against him in response.
But he ignored me, just carried on doing what he was doing, and I felt it.
It.