I'm Only Here for the Beard (The Dixie Wardens Rejects MC #4)(27)

But now, I could hear a motorcycle starting up right outside the window.

Son. Of. A. Bitch.

"No idea," the man that was running his work-roughened hand down the ridge of my spine murmured.

Then I felt what resembled a steel pole covered in flesh bump up against the inside of my thigh, and stiffened.

"Sean," I pleaded. "We can't."

Then he pressed that hard cock of his up against my entrance, started to push inside, and then cursed and backed away.

I looked behind me as he stomped away, stopping in front of a cabinet that was just to the right of the kitchen area.

He pulled the cabinet open, yanked down a box that was clearly a package of condoms-one, might I add, that had a layer of dust on it-and viciously ripped into it.

The way he was tearing into it actually made me smile, but the moment he turned and I got another look at his big cock, nerves started to ripple in my belly.

"Have you ever permanently scarred a woman when you were taking her?" I asked as he made his way back to me, a condom in his hand.

He didn't answer, instead held the package with his teeth and pulled out the contraceptive, and then tossed the wrapper in the vicinity of the sink.



       
         
       
        

My eyes went to his hands as I watched in fascination while he slicked it down his cock.

"It's red," I murmured.

"And ribbed," he agreed.

I opened my mouth to say something more, and then shut it when I heard the motorcycle rev up, and then descend down the driveway.

Relief must've shown on my face, because Sean grinned.

"Been doing this for five years now, darlin'," he informed me. "Dad knows better by now."

I didn't believe him.

"You can't be positive."

He came back up behind me and I dropped my head back down to my pillow, squeezing my eyes shut tightly as I waited for him to enter me.

"If the trailer's rockin'," he rumbled. "Dad doesn't come a' knockin'."

With that he pushed into me, spearing me with his big, hard cock.

I screamed.

Both in a good and a bad way.

I'd never, not once, felt so full as I did right then.

I'd had five sexual partners in my life and none of them had been as big, or as thick, as Sean was.

He touched me in places that I never knew were even there to be touched, and kept touching.

As more and more of him filled me, I felt his hips hitting the back of my legs, and I was fairly certain that if I died today, I would die a very happy, fulfilled woman.

He hadn't even started to really move yet, and I was already on the verge of coming again.

His hands clenched on my hips, as I breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth in an effort to gain control of the situation.

But Sean didn't want me in control. He didn't want me to be anything but aware of him. Which I was.

Very much so.

"Sean," I whimpered. "Please."

I didn't even know what I was asking for at this point. To fuck me? Pull out? Rub my clit?

He was obviously aware of what I needed, though, because he withdrew and then slowly filled me back up.

He did this over and over while I tried to catch my breath.

It took me a few long moments of pulling air into my lungs to realize that it was futile.

I wasn't going to catch my breath.

Not with Sean's magnificent cock inside of me, and sure as hell not while his hands were clenching so tightly on my hips that it was almost painful.

He never let up, he just kept stroking into me, over and over again, as I tried not to scream so loud that Sean's ears would hurt.

"You want my hand, baby?" Sean asked as he paused in his ministrations. 

I moaned into my pillow, and bucked back against him, wondering if he was going to smack my ass for participating.

"Sit still," he ordered, not with a smack to my ass, but with two hard squeezes on my hips that told me to stay exactly as he had me positioned.

I would have bruises the shape of his fingertips on my hips in the morning.

I didn't care, though.

Nope, not one single bit.

What I did care about was coming, and I knew that I would if I just got him to speed up … or thrust harder.

"Please," I repeated my earlier plea. "I'm so close."

Sean's mouth moved to my shoulder blade, and one hand went into my hair at the base of my neck.

"Sit up," he ordered. "Now."

I did, wondering what he would do if I refused.

And I found out because, apparently, I didn't hustle quickly enough at his command.

Mostly because he fisted his hand into my hair and pulled me up, causing me to pause for a second as a shiver of anticipation skated up my spine.

"Sean," I breathed out shakily. "You're driving me crazy."