Sex, Heat and Hunger: Part 2 (The Dark and Damaged Hearts Series #4)
by Whitley Cox
Author Links : Website | Twitter
Buy Links : Amazon | $4.09/£3.10
His hands came up, and he cradled my ribcage, his fingers fanning around my back. Big strong thumbs grazed my peaking nipples. “I-I don’t know if I can take it slow,” he swallowed. “I need you so badly. It’s taking every ounce of my energy to keep it together and not fuck you until you can’t walk for a week.”
“Then don’t,” I whispered. “I need you, James.”
“I just don’t want to hurt you.” His handsome face a riot of dueling emotions. “I’m afraid I’ll crush you. I tried getting off in the shower but I couldn’t, you’re the only thing I want, I haven’t come since our Skype date.”
I slid my hands between us and started to unzip his shorts, releasing him from his cotton confines. “Well, we definitely need to fix that then don’t we?” I was already turned on, but he licked his fingers anyway and slipped them under my skirt. His eyes flashed lambent in the bright sun when he realized I wasn’t wearing any panties. I thrust into his fingers, knocking them against my clit.
Fear clouded his face. “I… I just don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t, just let me stay on top and set the pace.” I reached behind me for a towel and placed it under my stitched leg.
“Oh God,” he growled, driven by a primitive urge his hands came up to my head and he crushed his mouth against mine; teeth grazed and nipped at my lips with feral passion while his tongue licked and tasted. He needed this just
as much as I did, possibly more.
I lifted up slightly and hovered over his engorged length, rotating my hips so that the head of his cock swirled at my wet and waiting entrance.
“Oh fuck, Emma…” he said with a groan, pushing up with futility. I continued to swirl and dip, allowing only the head to enter me, exquisite torture I just couldn’t get enough of. Eventually, I decided to put him out of his misery and sank down onto him; we both moaned at the divine feeling of finally being connected. Bodies as one, hearts as one, souls as one. I felt full and consumed, whole once again — James was home.
He snarled against my neck. “Y-you’re so fucking tight… so fucking tight.” His hands made their way back down to my waist, his fingers dug painful trenches into my hips as he pulled me down hard onto his shaft, knocking my cervix with each measured thrust.
Realizing that he wasn’t going to hurt me he picked up the pace and gripped me even harder, urging me to move faster, pulling me down so I could take him deeper. I smiled and closed my eyes, lifting my chin up towards the sky, tilting my head back and letting my hair fall behind me, reveling in the feel of him inside me again at long last.
He licked his fingers again and then wrapped his left arm around me, ruffling up my skirt and sliding a finger into my sensitive flesh.
I melted into him. “Oh God, James… yes.”
He nipped and bit at my lips, trailing kisses down my neck and collarbone, offering small and gentle pecks to each of my bruises and scratches. Cupping my breasts, he used his free hand to release them from my bra so he could suckle and bite. I whimpered as he flicked his tongue back and forth quickly over my sensitive buds until they pebbled and ached. The canoe rocked with our thrusting and bucking and the water gently sloshed about. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold on, it’d been so long, too long.
“I’m close,” I said breathlessly. “I’m going to come.”
The sun was beating on us hard. Sweat trickled down my back and between my breasts. The sheen of perspiration on James’ forehead and neck glowed like diamonds on his tanned skin. I leaned forward and licked the vein that throbbed down his throat, enjoying the salty taste of him and the way his pulse beat hot and fast beneath my tongue. Reaching behind him, I grabbed his butt, feeling the cheeks clench with each awkward thrust up. Shamelessly and without hesitation I pulled him against me, forcing him to bury himself deeper, causing his pelvic bone to graze my clit just right. I was but a breath away from an orgasm; I could practically see it, hear it, taste it.
He moaned and hammered harder, grinding his pelvis against me.
It was more than I could handle, I came undone, screaming his name; frightening a flock of ducks in the process, their feathers flapping in a frenzy while they honked and quacked like perturbed diners in a restaurant. Moments later James stilled, grunting and groaning against my shoulder as he clamped down to muffle the sounds of his release, his cock pulsing inside me, spilling his hot seed.
We sat there for a while. Sated and content under the hot sun. Our bodies connected. Our hearts connected.
Last Call- TL Watson
Author Links : Website | Twitter
Buy Links : None Available
“Remember when I told you I wasn’t going to be your toy?” she asked.
“Yeah.” It came out a dry croak. After her earlier comments about making him squirm and moan it might kill him, but he’d go.
“I have a better idea.” She nipped his earlobe, not raising her sultry words above whisper. “Stay. And you be my toy.”
Before his knees actually hit the floor, he drove forward, cupping her ass, pressing his rock hard dick against her, and walked them back until she hit the bed. When he tried to push her onto it, she turned them around and shoved him to sitting position then reached to loosen his tie. Once freed from his neck, she wrapped it around her fist and met his eyes.
His heart screamed in his chest, beat so damn hard it was all he could hear. Was she asking what he thought?
She twined the other end around her free hand and stretched it taut, arching a perfectly sculpted brow so slightly he might have imagined. But he hadn’t.
“Take off your shirt.”
If he could have ripped it off, he would have. Instead he pulled at the buttons hard and fast until the shirt was gone. He had no idea where, nor did he care. She straddled his lap, bit his shoulder. Reached her hands over his head and dragged the silk tie down his back, tugging him forward when she hit the top of his pants.
Sweet motherfucker. She wasn’t asking at all. She was demanding.
His hands were behind his back before he knew how they got there. Her lips were on his neck, his chin, one shoulder then the other. Gyrating hips bounced against his cock, which was doing its damnedest to rip through his pants.
Soft hands wrapped cool material around his wrists, yanking on the knot she’d tied.
“Y-yes. Fuck yes.” He tilted up to meet her downward thrust. “My pants.”
“What about them?” The innocence she managed only made him harder. “Do you want them off?”
He nodded. Or hoped he had.
“Why?” She put her nose against his and breathed the word into his mouth. “Tell me what you want me to do.”
If he’d been twenty, he’d have come right then. Hell, maybe if he’d been thirty.
“Put that pretty mouth over my cock and take it so deep your eyes water.”
Something flickered inside those eyes. Something hot and feral, and the tiniest bit vulnerable. Shit, if dirty talk was her thing, too, he was done. Gone. Head over heels in lust.
As quickly as it had come, the look reverted back to the imp she’d been portraying.
“Mine, remember?” She lifted his bound hands and let them drop onto his back. “But I’m willing to compromise.”
She slid off his lap, to her knees, and looked up, a wicked half smile tainting an otherwise angelic face. Her thumbs ran up and down the length of him, through his pants. He wanted to be free. Feel those fingers skin on skin. He made some guttural noise, and she moaned.
Then she leaned forward and licked him, straight up the zipper, never taking her eyes off his face. It was like nothing he’d ever felt, the tingling racing around his stomach, the dull thrumming ache in his already heavy balls. While still in his pants for Christ’s sake.
She licked again, closing her lips around the head and forcing a hot breath over it. Her mouth squeezed and his balls tightened.
“My God.” He arched.
“I thought you were going to prove to me what a stud you were.” Her teeth nipped the tip of his cock and he shot up straight. “No coming. Not for a long, long while.”
“Fuck.” There were no other coherent words in his brain. All his blood was below. Every sensitive drop.
“But I do wonder if we can get you so worked up the wet spot will seep all the way through.” With that, she went back to work—with thumbs and mouth. Stroking and sucking, nipping and squeezing.
He gritted his teeth and prayed. Actually prayed. And when she finally popped open his button, slid down his zipper and that hot breath hit the next layer of clothes—which was drenched with pre-come—his head dropped back and he whimpered.
“If I take them off, will you be a good boy?”
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