Wrong (A Bad Boy Romance)(133)

My balls are tight and my dick feels like it’s about to explode when she suddenly pulls back. “I want you inside me when you come,” she murmurs.

“Fuck that,” I answer, but I don’t really mean it. I want to be inside her, too. I swallow and get myself back under control.

“Hey,” she answers, squeezing my dick. I think she’s reminding me I need to behave myself while she’s got my most delicate areas under her control. “Who’s in charge here?”

“Ha!” I grab her and flip so she’s on top of me. “I think I am.”

“That’s why you put me on top?” She seems a little flustered, but that’s okay. I like it when she’s off balance.

“Exactly.” To demonstrate my motives, I grab her hips and push her forward, positioning her over my mouth, and shove my tongue inside her.

“Cain… Jesus.”

“Just Cain is fine,” I tell her, speaking the words right against the slick-smooth skin of the inside of her cunt.

“Smartass,” she shoots back, and then I do my best to make sure she can’t focus enough to talk at all.

It seems to be working as I stroke my tongue all over her, rolling it around her clit, feeling it swell even as I touch it. I put my whole face between her thighs, nose against her clit, and tongue inside her as far as it can go. I start thrusting into her with my tongue, rolling her clit with my fingers. She’s shaking under me, shivering while she pants in short, sharp breaths.

Suddenly those short breaths turn into a keening, and she starts to pulse on me. I pinch her clit, gentle but firm, and she screams.

There we go. That’s more like it.

I can barely hold her down on the mattress while she comes. She bucks under me like a wild mustang, and I have to wrap an arm around her waist to keep my mouth in contact with her pussy. The thick wetness floods my tongue, and I hum my pleasure against her.

Finally she shoves my forehead with the heel of her hand, and I relent, letting her go. But the second my face is free from between her thighs, she starts to crawl back down my body.

“Fuck. Me,” she orders.

Funny. As much as I hate being bossed around by her father, I seem to not mind it at all coming from her. I do exactly what she says. Not that it’s difficult; she’s on top, so she’s doing most of the work.

I grab her hips as soon as they move into range and position her over my hot, hard dick. She reaches down to point it in the right direction and lowers herself on me. She’s hot and wet and so, so open as I slide into her, all the way in a single, decisive movement. There’s no need for the condom this time, obviously. I’ve done about as much damage in that regard as I can. Not that I regret it. Not anymore. I stroke a hand down her belly as I thrust into her.

I brace my hands on her hips and hold her there over me as I quicken my pace. Her hips undulate on mine, drawing me deeper than I can go by myself. She’s writhing on me, but in controlled movements, her pupils blown, her expression distant, as if she’s completely focused on what she’s doing.

Just the sight of her like that, completely abandoned to her own pleasure, is almost enough to make me lose control. I clench my thighs together and thrust harder, wanting to drive that much higher before I finally climax.

When she shudders around me—again—I can’t hold back any longer. Everything in me lets go in a powerful rush, and my vision goes black for a few seconds as the orgasm clutches me by the balls and I empty into her. She stills above me, her channel still pulsing on me, so tight, like a fist. We’re like that for a long time, just suspended, melded.

Then, finally, we come down on the wave. My hands move on her waist, opening and closing. There are vague red marks on her skin where I’ve held her so firmly in place.

“Cain,” she murmurs, shoving her hair back from her forehead.

“Yeah?”

Jess shakes her head. “Nothing. I just wanted to hear your name.”

Gently I draw her down to kiss her. We’re both slick with sweat, shivering off the last of our climaxes. Her hair falls into my face, and I sweep it back.

As she draws away, I look into her eyes. “You’re so beautiful.” Her breasts are swinging against my chest, and I glance down to see the full curves, the pink nipples. “And you’re mine. Don’t forget that.”

She makes a snorting noise—not very feminine, but quite expressive. “As if I could. And you…” Reaching down, she grabs me by the ears. “You’re mine. Don’t you forget that.”

“Never in a million years,” I answer, and draw her into my arms.

#

I hate to leave Jess in the morning, but I have to go talk to her father. It’s the usual doling out of funds after the fight, but I get the feeling there’s going to be more to it. For one, Spada called me last night, late, to remind me I needed to be there. He never does that.