Fire Inside:A Chaos Novel(18)

I didn’t go there. I kept working his cock, lips, tongue, suction and hand, bobbing and stroking, giving it my all.

His hands, both cupping my head, moved, his fingers sifting into my hair, and he repeated on a half groan, half grunt, “Lanie, enough. Come here.”

I ignored him and kept going. Pushing it. Wanting to give it to him. Wanting to drive him wild.

It worked. I knew this when his hips drove up, his hands in my hair pressing down, filling my mouth with his cock. I moaned against it even as he groaned, “Fuck.”

I pulled out all the stops and gave him more.

“Goddamn it,” he snarled, his hands moving from my hair to under my arms and I lost purchase on his cock because Hop hauled me up his body and rolled both of us so I was on my back, he was on top of me and he kept snarling but this time in my face even as he thrust inside, plunging deep, filling me, making me whole, “Come here.”

I was there, he was there and, incidentally, I was coming.

My eyes closed and my head shot back, pressing into the pillows but only for an instant because his hand drove into my hair, fisting hard.

“Look at me,” he growled, thrusting deep, so deep I knew tomorrow I was going to ache. Ache in a good way. Ache like I’d ached every day for thirteen days. An ache I savored. An ache, when it started to fade, I craved having back.

“Look at me, goddamn it,” he bit out and, even still coming, getting my fix, feeling the drug that was him course through my veins, I opened my eyes and looked at him.

The minute I did, his neck twisted, his hand in my hair yanked my head back, he buried his face in my throat and groaned deep against my skin as he buried himself to the hilt inside me and gave back what I gave him.

My arms were already around him but as he felt it, I wrapped my legs around him too and tightened both, holding him close as I came down. Holding him close as he came down. Waiting for it. The aftermath, the sweet crash I savored after the high.

I blinked at the ceiling when it didn’t come. When I didn’t feel the tickle of his mustache against my skin. The nourishment of his lips moving there. The nectar seeping in of his tongue on me.

I would know why when he lifted his head, looked down at me and I saw, regardless of the fact he just had an orgasm, Hopper Kincaid was pissed.

“Who has to clean up now?” he clipped and I blinked again.

Oh God, he didn’t use a condom.

Damn! He didn’t use a condom!

His hips pressed into mine and he kept talking, his words curt and angry. “I tell you to come here, Lanie, you fucking,” he dipped his face closer to mine, “come here.”

He’d never been pissed at me and, looking into his face darkened with anger, not hunger, it scared the pants off me—though, obviously, I wasn’t wearing pants.

Still.

“Hop—” I began, but he interrupted me.

“I wanna come in your mouth, Lanie, I’ll come in your mouth. The big clue you got that I don’t is when I tell you to,” he paused and his face got darker and scarier, “come here.”

“I was—” I began again only to get interrupted again.

“Not listening.”

“I know, but the thing is—” I tried again only to fail again.

“The thing is, you gotta listen. You don’t, you drive me there, you get what you want but maybe not where you want it. I come in you, Lanie. You know that. You got two weeks of knowin’ that shit.”

He was not wrong.

Before I could say a word, he did.

“I also don’t come on my gut. I give it, somewhere in you, you’re gonna take it. That said, I think we established the other night you don’t like it in your mouth so what the fuck?”

He was not wrong about that either.

My voice was small when I told him, “I wanted to make you wild.”

“Well, you got that, babe,” he shot back then bit out with no small amount of sarcasm, “Excellent work.”

As I felt the uncomfortable throb of his sarcasm hit me straight in the belly, he pulled out, rolled off me and my bed.

I rolled to my side, pulled the sheets up my front, and got up on an elbow.

“Hop—” I called as he immediately bent and nabbed his jeans.

He twisted to me even as he began to get dressed. “You on the pill?”

Scared to speak in the face of his anger and the not insignificant fact it looked like he was preparing to leave, I nodded.

“Thank Christ for that,” he muttered as he yanked his jeans to his hips and, not bothering to button them, he bent to tag his tee.

Okay, I didn’t know why but that kind of hurt.

I stopped trying to speak and watched him dress.

Night two of thirteen that he would leave me before dawn.