When she winces, I pause.
“Too big for you, baby?” I ask, a small smirk curling my lips.
“No,” she grunts, her lashes fluttering as her back arches, pushing her hips towards me, taking me until I'm damn near balls deep. “I got kneed in the vagina, remember?”
If she wasn't wrapped around me, her pussy tight and throbbing against my shaft, I'd probably laugh at that. But for whatever fucked up reason, hearing her say the word vagina casual as can be when we're pelvis to pelvis like this, it turns my desire up a notch.
“Then I'm not holding back,” I warn, my voice dropping down into dangerous territory, the way it does when I have to shut off my emotions just to keep going. But this time, it's like I'm overwhelmed by them, drowning in lust and sex and desire. This girl's as bad as any high I've ever had; I can only hope the comedown isn't a bitch.
“Don't,” she whispers, her eyes focused on the ceiling and not on my face. Something about that pisses me off and I release her wrists, grabbing her chin and tilting her gaze towards me until our eyes lock. Then and only then do I begin to move, the mattress creaking beneath us as I thrust into her, her small heart-shaped face clutched in my tattooed fingers, her green eyes wide and moist as I slam my hips against hers hard, harder, fucking hardest.
“So tight, Lyric,” I growl, letting go of her face and putting my hands on either one of her knees, pushing her legs open, giving me deeper access. She cringes a little when my fingers brush across her still bleeding wounds, but I don't stop. A little bit of red never hurt anyone, right? If it did then I'd be quite rightly screwed. I'm swimming in blood, drenched in it. “You are so fucking tight.”
She bites her lower lip and slides her hands up her body to squeeze and caress her own breasts. The sight un-fucking-does me, and I groan as I pick up my pace, balls slapping hard against her ass as that wicked beast of pleasure curls in my body and unfurls with a growl. I collapse against her and come so hard it knocks the air right out of me. Before I can even catch it, she's sitting up and shoving me back with a palm to the chest.
The movement catches me off guard enough that I lose my balance on the edge of the mattress and stumble back, just barely managing to stay on my feet.
“What the hell, Pint-Size?” I ask as Lyric stands up and yanks her skirt back into place. “We're not finished here yet.”
“Says who?” she asks me, trying to sweep past me and out the door. I slam my palm against the wood and it clicks back into place at the same moment I grab her wrist and spin her around, putting her back to the wall next to the desk.
“Says me,” I snap, dropping my mouth to hers, thrusting my tongue between her teeth and drinking in the taste of her. “I don't usually let the pretty birds fly away without a souvenir to remember me by.” Before she can comment on that, I kiss her hard and fast, my right hand grabbing the fabric of her skirt and yanking it up to her hips. Lyric struggles a little bit, but she's still kissing me back and when my fingers dive into her slick wetness, she groans into my mouth.
Thumb on her clit, two inside her tight pussy, I work her body until she's thrashing against my grip on her wrists, biting my lower lip as her back arches and a rush of wet heat soaks my fingers in the wake of her orgasm.
When I finally let go of her, I'm grinning from ear to ear.
She takes one, long look at me and then slaps me across the face.
I'm not exactly sure why I slapped Royal in the face. Maybe it was because he gave me my first orgasm in two years? I know, it's sad, but good sex doesn't always have to come with an orgasm. Great sex … well, wow, I don't actually think I've ever had great sex.
Until today.
I lift my wineglass to my lips and take a drink, pretending that I'm still listening to my father drone on about his new campaign promises. My mother watches and smiles politely, frustrated that her birthday dinner's turned into just another campaigning platform but too uptight to say anything about it.
“What the hell happened to you in there?” Kailey whispers for what has to be the hundredth time since I appeared frazzled and disheveled at the front door of the clubhouse. She's not an idiot; I know she knows. But she'd rather needle and pick at me until I give the answer she wants.
Across the table, my big brother glares at me, his mouth downturned, his green eyes staring straight into mine. He doesn't like the story I fed him about falling down my front steps. It's a lame story, even I know that, but I was so frazzled from my encounter with Royal that my mind felt like a pan of scrambled eggs. I couldn't come up with anything else.
“You can tell me anything, you know that, right?” Kailey asks, playing the sympathetic big sister card. I'm not falling for it. If I flat-out admit to having sex with Royal, she won't let me live it down. In fact, she'd probably save that secret for my future husband and surprise him with the revelation on our wedding day. She doesn't mean to be like that, but with our Mom and Dad for parents, it was kind of inevitable.