“Fucking come, Shannon,” I growled against her as she tightened around my fingers.
She spread her legs further and fell apart. Her clit was swollen, her taste like sweet heaven on my tongue. A taste I never wanted to forget.
I groaned against her as she began shaking and trembling beneath me, signaling the first wave of her climax as it rushed through. I knew her signs now, the way her thighs began to shake. The way she pushed against the armrest of the couch as if she didn’t know whether to flee from the sensation or thrust herself toward it.
As her orgasm started, I pulled out, eliciting a cry of frustration from her. “What the hell?”
I smirked and stood up. “You’ll get there.”
I was being cocky, and she growled at me in frustration. “Hurry.”
I’d hurry. And then I’d take my time once she got off once, but I needed in her. I reached down and yanked her hips toward the armrest, flipping her over with ease before I hauled her over the edge of the couch.
Her hands curled into the sheets and I pressed my hand against her shoulder blades. Her toes barely touched the floor and I lifted her, standing behind her as I ripped open a condom and rolled it on. “Stay still.”
She wiggled her hips, and I couldn’t help myself. My hand smacked the globes of her ass. A sick thrill shot through me as her ass jiggled and turned pink from the sting of my hand on her.
I’d marked her with my cum and my teeth.
I wanted to mark her with every part of me.
“Oliver.” She gasped my name, moaning and breathless, and I couldn’t stop.
I smacked her ass again, rubbing it to soothe the sting. Instead of arching away, she pushed up, seeking my hand.
“You like this?” I asked, my teeth gritted. I took my cock in one hand and ran it through her slick cunt, biting back my own groan. With my tip at her entrance, I spanked her again. “Tell me, Shan. You like this? When I spank you? Do you know how fucking hot it makes me to watch your skin turn pink?”
She moaned my name again, and I grinned when she glared at me out of the corner of her eye, her face pressed into the couch beneath her.
“You do, don’t you? You don’t think you should, but you fucking love it when I get my hands on you, however it comes, isn’t that right?”
“Yes,” she breathed, as I spanked her again. Every time my hand connected with her, she pushed back, until the tip of my dick slid right inside her.
She hugged me like a vise grip, and I lost the desire to tease her. I wanted to fuck her. Slam inside of her balls deep until she shouted my name, until my name was the only thing she thought. Oliver, Oliver, Oliver. I wanted her chanting it all day long.
“Are you going to come?” I asked as my hands went to her hips. I pressed into her, fighting the need to turn into a wild animal and fuck her relentlessly.
This woman. She took everything I gave and fucking loved it.
“Please,” she whimpered. “Oliver.”
I grunted as I hit the end of her, tilted her hips and bent my knees so I could go deeper inside of her. She contracted around my dick, sucking me in and holding me tight while her walls began convulsing.
I moved faster and faster until my fingertips grew wet from sweat. She came almost immediately as soon as I wrapped my hand around to her front and rubbed her clit. Her whole body tightened, muscles flexing in her arms as she held herself tight. Her pussy clenched around me and I continued fucking her harder, my hips smacking against her, my balls hitting her clit with every thrust forward. They pulled tight, screaming for relief, but I held off until another orgasm rolled through her, making her shake and shiver while the only thing she chanted was oh God, oh God, yes, coming, Oliver.
I powered into her, pushing her forward while pulling her back and threw my head back, roaring her name while I shot myself inside of her.
“Fuck,” I groaned, grinding my teeth together. My throat muscles popped and tightened and I knew I’d bruised her from my tight hold on her. “So fucking beautiful.” Beautiful. I whispered it again, over and over until my heart began to calm and she went limp in my hold.
“God, you’re good at that,” she whispered, her voice raspy and dry when I let her go and climbed back to my spot on the couch behind her, wrapping my arms around her. “I could do that all day with you.”
I envisioned that: a whole day of fucking her wherever and however I wanted, listening to her repeat my name with a breathy voice, her curls wild and her eyes all smoky.
I pulled her tighter. “We should do that.”
I meant it. I’d fucking skip a day of practice to have her in my bed all day, pliable and wanting.
She laughed softly, adjusting on the couch until she was on her back, and looked up at me. Her eyes shone with sated lust. “Someday. I have the festival today.”
I leaned down and brushed my lips against hers, soft and slow, savoring the moment I had with her before our days took us in different directions. “And I need to get to morning workouts. But the first weekend I’m home, you’re at my place.”
It didn’t surprise me like it did the first time when I’d taken her to my house without thinking. I wanted her there. Wanted her to meet the horses and get to know them. Wanted her to be in my house so I had those memories of her.
I wanted to fuck her in every room of my house so every time I walked inside, all I saw was her.
Her smile went soft as I pulled back, and with a finger she traced my jawline, feeling my morning scruff. “Your house?”
I nodded as she hesitated.
“I’d like that.”
“Me too.”
***
“This is ridiculous.” I groaned and ran my hand down my face.
For thirty minutes I’d been waiting for Serena to show her face for our mediation, and she was late.
What else was new? The woman wore a watch as an accessory, was most likely always glued to her cell phone, and still couldn’t manage to get anywhere on time. It used to be endearing. I had teased her relentlessly when we were dating. The night before our wedding, I’d teased her about being late to walk down the aisle. What I’d realized later, much too late, was that if Serena was going to be the focus of everyone’s attention, she was always on time. When it was something important to me, or anyone else, she took her sweet-ass time, expecting everyone to wait around for her, demanding attention upon her late arrival.
This wasn’t the first time she’d pulled the stunt since our divorce, and I was fed up.
I’d spent Friday night getting pummeled by Baltimore—a team we should have easily beaten, but our second strings couldn’t pull their heads out of their asses long enough to make a tackle—and then I’d spent the rest of the weekend wrapped up in Shannon. I’d helped her after the game, bone-tired and muscles aching all over my damn body, but still energetic enough to help her finish putting away all of her designs and getting Stamped back to how she’d had it before the street festival.
It wasn’t the first night we fell asleep without me burying my dick into her delicious cunt, but it’d been one of the best.
We’d talked. She told me about Des Moines, growing up in a run-down house on the east side of the city where nothing good had come from in the last fifty years besides Beaux Hale. She told me about her mom, working job after job to support them and they still managed to go hungry occasionally. I told her about life on the farm outside Savannah—where our town had two stoplights and half as many stop signs. Where everyone in town flooded football fields on Friday nights to cheer for the only good thing that brought them excitement outside the few who could have cable television. We laughed about the way we grew up, both of us dirt poor and desperately wanting more. The difference was that where I always wanted more for myself, she was the selfless one, doing everything she could, sacrificing everything she wanted for her brother.
It was that selflessness, that motive—to see her brother succeed at his passion and care nothing of her own ambitions—that sealed the deal that she was unlike any woman I’d ever met before.
No woman gave up everything for someone without growing bitter. With the closeness Beaux and Shannon showed each other, it was clear that wasn’t an issue for her.
I was quickly becoming enthralled with not only her body, but her sweetness and her wit and her intelligence. She was the kind of woman men fought over, claimed, wanted to keep chained to them like some primal beast because they knew the prize they’d been given simply by her attention.
It unsettled me, less than it should have, that I was already feeling these things for her, so fiercely and so quickly.
I pushed the chair back from the table where my lawyer and Serena’s lawyer had been waiting. The harsh sound of wood screeching gained everyone’s attention. I didn’t pay her lawyer any attention, but focused on Paul Costell.
“I’m leaving. You can handle this without me, right?”
After her play to find me over the weekend, a fortuitous event on her part that I’d run into her at the art festival, I’d gone searching for her.
She’d cried her fake alligator tears and clung to me, whispered how much she missed me. Missed us.
I’d repeated it was over. Would always be over. I didn’t have a shred of emotion left for Serena except for annoyance and disappointment at who she still continued to be. Within thirty days, her extravagant lifestyle, or lack thereof, would be none of my concern.