Keep(Romanian Mob Chronicles 1)(33)

“Move. Please move,” she cried, voice low.

“Anything for you,” I bit out through gritted teeth, rocking against her with slow, shallow strokes, not quite able to believe, but happy beyond belief she was so passionately responding to me taking her this way.

When my fingers found her clit and I strummed at the hard bud, she jerked around me, and that little movement broke the dam. I thrust harder and then harder, all the while playing with her clit. As I continued to pump into her, I moved my hand down and pushed one finger, then another into her pussy, and both of us cried out at the new sensation of my cock filling one hole, my fingers in the other, a thin membrane of tissue the only thing separating the two.

I retreated and returned over and over and over again, my finger in her pussy moving in time with my cock in her ass, her throaty moans mingling with my own, her curvy body trembling beautifully with each stroke, and I again marveled at how perfectly she fit me, how right it felt to have her under me, to be inside her.

And then she clenched down around me, her womb fluttering against my fingers, her ass gripped down tight on my rod. I stilled, held her as she rode out the wave of her orgasm. When she calmed, I began again, moving inside her in hard, deep thrusts that soon had her panting. As I moved, her hole loosened but still held me in a glove-tight hold that made me see stars.

The low churn that had filled my stomach boiled over, and on a final thrust, I stilled and let the pleasure take me, jet after jet of cum pouring out of me and deep inside her. I snaked my arms around her waist and put my head on her back, lying against her soft body as the most intense pleasure—body and soul—I’d ever felt overtook me.



Fawn

The next morning I lay in his—our—ridiculously huge bed. This was one of the rare mornings that he was with me. He was usually gone before I rose and had never slept longer than me in all the nights we’d been together. In fact, I didn’t know if I could ever recall him sleeping, but he did so now.

I drank him in greedily, sleep giving the usually harsh shadows of his features a softness that was uncommon.

He looked at peace.

The desire to touch him, push soft hair away from his forehead, trace my fingers along his stubbled jaw almost overcame me. But I resisted, wanted to see him at peace as much as I could.

I didn’t have too long though because I could sense the very instant he woke. His eyes popped open, slightly soft from sleep but completely alert, and his gaze swept to mine.

Then he looked down to my nipples, which pebbled at his first glance. And for once, the desire to hide wasn’t there. Only the desire to have him see me. His gaze swept lower, but when it landed on my hips, his eyes went cold, hard with displeasure.

He reached out, sculpted gentle fingertips over the mottled finger marks. His brows flattened and he pulled his lips into a thin line, jaw working from the way he clinched his teeth.

“I hurt you,” he said.

I lifted my hand and smoothed the tips of my fingers atop his, touching him as gently as he touched me. He looked up, gaze clashing with mine.

“I like them,” I said softly.

He lifted a brow, unspoken question clear.

“They’re from you. And not because you hurt me, but because you wanted me. So every time I see them, touch them, I can remember how that felt.”

I smiled at him, but his expression didn’t change. Instead, he rose up on his elbow and then moved until he loomed over me, the wide breadth of his shoulders blocking the sunlight.

But I wasn’t afraid, hadn’t really been since that first day. I knew the power of his body, knew the gentleness with which he touched me, knew that he wouldn’t hurt me even though he was more than able. And I felt safe with him huge and powerful over me.

He shifted until his hands were on either side of my head, knees between mine.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, and he found my center unerringly, moving inside of me with one solid stroke.

Air expelled from my lungs, and the sensation of having him inside me, all around me, sparked a sense of passion and calm that was as disconcerting and addictive as the man who created it.

His hardness pulsed inside me, and I clamped my walls around him and was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath. I did it again and again, tightening and releasing around his cock as I trailed my fingers across his arms and chest, lingering on the tattoos for a moment before I moved my hands up and swiped my thumb across his strong jaw, the shell of his ear, before I locked my fingers at the base of his neck much as I had wrapped my ankles around his waist.

I kept my gaze on his, begging him without words, hoping that at least for a while he could see what I saw, know that I trusted him completely. My eyes drifted shut when he moved and pushed himself inside me, gentle at first and then with increasing speed and urgency. When his lips covered mine, I opened automatically and he speared his tongue inside my mouth as he speared his cock inside my pussy. I breathed out harsh breaths, but no sound left my mouth, all caught by him the same as I caught his own deep exhales and low-voiced moans.