Ruckus (Sinners of Saint #2)(38)

Ironically, my request made him unglue his mouth from mine and frown.

"How drunk are you?" He scanned my face, stone cold sober. He only had a beer, and by his standards, that was like drinking herbal tea.

"Not too drunk not to know what I'm doing," I answered.

"Sounds like something a drunk person would say," he countered. I reached between us and grabbed his thick ridge through his jeans, rubbing up and down. Rock hard. "Please."

He closed his eyes, resting his forehead against mine while he took a deep breath. He was trying to fight it. Trying to find composure. That was what I should have done. But I was greedy that night.

"If I take you, it's because you want it, not because some bullshit family revenge."

"I do." I nodded. "I want it."

He got up, offered me his hand, and guided me to the red truck no girl had ever been screwed in before.

Longest journey I ever made, but one that was worth taking.

 



In the cab, Dean flattened the driver's seat and lay against it, tapping his muscular chest.

"C'mere," he ordered. He didn't sound playful. He didn't sound alluring. He sounded serious and grave. The most tantalizing landlord I had ever come across. I complied, straddling him, then scooting up to his face. I still had my panties on, and my eyelids felt ten pounds each, but I knew what I was doing.

Dean nudged my underwear away, grabbed me by the waist, and pushed me down on his face, his tongue plunging into me, penetrating me in one sudden movement. I cried out in both pleasure and surprise, grabbing his hair and arching my back.

"Fuck my tongue, Baby LeBlanc. Fuck it hard."

My hips rocked as I did just that, feeling his warm mouth all over me, his thumb rubbing lazy yet firm circles on my clit while his free hand squeezed my ass, dictating how fast and hard I landed on his face. He made the kind of happy noises I had only dreamed of hearing from Darren. Like this was his idea of heaven. Like what we did was right.

After a few short minutes, I clenched around his tongue, my thighs vibrating, every muscle in my body shaking with a rippling orgasm that moved through me like an earthquake. I threw my head back and screamed his name, my eyes squeezed shut.

Then, before I had the chance to open them, he flipped me so I was lying underneath him and he was on top, his knee between my opened legs. Dean unbuckled his belt, his shirt riding up and revealing those perfect abs I tried not to ogle the other day. Jesus, he was a masterpiece. I actually resented him for that.

"I'm going to make you sing my fucking name," he hissed, his eyes hard on mine, "with your pussy."

I spread my legs wider as he dug his knees deeper into my sex.

He reached for his back pocket and plucked a condom out of his wallet. Ripping the wrapper with his teeth, he sheathed himself while grabbing my shirt in his hand. He pulled the fabric until it dug into my skin and ripped it from my body.

Ouch.

And also, what the hell?

Leaning down, he flung one of my legs over his shoulder and slid into me without warning. His jaw was granite, his eyes blazing with carnal need. I clung onto his bulging triceps, groaning with pleasure I couldn't fully contain in my small body, and let him pound me like an animal as he hit my G-spot again and again, riding me like his mission in life was to split me in two.

"Oh, Dean." I couldn't help shouting, and even though it was hot outside, the condensation on the windows around us proved that it was much, much hotter inside.

Dean fisted my hair again, this time harder than he did on the bench, and turned my head to the space between our bodies so I could watch.

"What am I doing to you?" He sounded menacing. Almost evil. I watched as his cock-hey, is that a purple condom?-slid in and out of me, the way his hips smashed into mine furiously every time he drove in. The ridges of his six-pack were perfectly visible from that angle, too. There was darkness there. In what we did. All-American, fresh-faced, lovely Dean had a very dangerous side, and he allowed me a sneak peek into it.

"You're … " I stuttered. He tugged at my hair harder for the answer. It was painful, but at the same time, extremely hot.

"Say it, Baby LeBlanc."

"You're fucking me."

"Hell, yeah, I'm fucking you. Feels good?"

"Y-yes."

"Am I too deep?"

"N-no."

"Am I too rough?"

"N-no."

"Good. 'Cause I'm about to be."

His hand snaked behind my back and spun me in place, and for one second, his cock was no longer buried inside me. He propped me on my knees but I fell flat on my stomach when he drove into me again, this time from behind. He lifted one of my hips with his arm-his muscles tight and sweaty against my thigh-to create the perfect angle for him to tear me apart with his thick, long ridge.