Possess Me Slowly

By: Joya Ryan

Chapter One

“I’m going to be an hour late.”
I pressed the phone to my ear and listened to the one and only bartender tonight explain why he wouldn’t be in on time. It was eleven in the evening, I was officially off work and had a two-day weekend to look forward to. Almost.
“I’ll cover for you until you get here, Hector.”
“Thanks Megan, you’re the best.”
Hanging up the phone, I straightened my white blouse and black skirt. Going from assistant manager to bartender at the Strauss Hotel in one night wouldn’t be so bad if my day wasn’t already a giant crap sandwich.
“It’s just an hour,” I mumbled to myself and grabbed my purse.
It wasn’t like I had much of a life outside of work anyway. Even though there were over one hundred Strauss luxury hotels littered across the globe, the only location that had an open position with room for fast promotion was in Manhattan—and the position paid well. But leaving my family and friends back home in Chicago for the lonely city of New York had been an adjustment.
A few weeks ago, my best friend Kate’s soon-to-be sister-in-law came to stay with me. Emma Wade and I had become close since Adam and Kate got together. She was looking to get out of Chicago and I offered her my spare bedroom. Though she never told me details, her situation seemed urgent. I could understand that. We were friends, but we had a silent understanding that our reasons for fleeing to New York were our own.
But tonight she had plans, which meant another evening in an empty apartment.
Stretching my neck, I walked through the impressive lobby but couldn’t seem to shed the invisible weight crashing down on my shoulders—probably because it was over six months of stupid mistakes that affected not only myself, but my parents as well.
My heels clicked on the shiny marble floors as I wound down the corridor and into the bar. The low lighting and slight smell of vanilla and bourbon was almost soothing. The Strauss Hotel Bar was a sleek, modern take on the rustic and rugged. Glossy cherry tabletops reflected tiny beams from the single candles atop them. If you didn’t know better, you could mistake the surroundings for a high-end restaurant in Aspen.
Thank God it wasn’t busy tonight. Only a couple of scattered patrons occupied the corner tables.
“Hi Megan,” Shari said. Her short black bob bounced as she walked around the bar, untying her apron. “Where’s Hector?”
“He’s running a bit late so I’m covering.”
Shari froze, hands on her apron. “Are you sure? I could stay.”
“No, you’ve been here since the lunch shift.”
Shari stepped closer and lowered her voice. “Yeah, but by the looks of it, you’ve been crying on and off all day.”
A sharp breath stuck in my throat. Damn it. Running my fingertips under my eyes I took a deep breath. My father had been showing heavy signs of dementia right after I left for New York and it was getting worse. Quickly. That was the latest information I could decipher from my mother’s voicemails and texts today. I would have gone home to help my mother take care of him, but since neither of them were working I needed my job so I could help support them.
“Is it your dad?”
“Yeah, he went to a specialist this morning and I have been waiting to hear back from my mom all day.” It wasn’t a lie. But it wasn’t the whole truth.
“How is he doing?”
“Not good. He forgot who I was when I called yesterday. Called me Fresca.” A small laugh escaped. Even to my own ears it sounded raw and wounded. “Fresca was my dog when I was eight.”
Shari rested a hand on my arm and just the small contact made my chest tighten. “Megan, I am so sorry.”
“Yeah, me too. I took this job so I could help with his bills, but now I feel I am too far away to really help. I don't know what to do.”
“You know I’m here if you need me, right?”
I nodded and let myself take a deep breath. It was the only way to keep from crying. Sometimes it just felt as though everything was spinning out of control and that the weight I carried every day would eventually pull me under.
“Seriously, is there anything I can do?"
Shari had been working at The Strauss Hotel Bar for three years and was the only friend I had managed to make. She was a single mom who tended bar at night so that she could be home with her daughter during the day. And she knew all about my dad’s problems—well, his health problems. No one knew about the other problems. Not even my best friend back home.
“Yes, go home to your beautiful daughter. Working will help keep my mind busy.”
“If you’re sure,” she said, hesitating.
“I’m sure.” I was more than sure. The only thing I wanted to do right then was just get lost, pretend that I was some bartender without a care in the world.
“Okay, well everyone is taken care of and it’s been pretty slow. If you change your mind, just give me a call,” she said, dropping her apron behind the bar and giving me a hug.
“I won’t.” My cell phone buzzed and I pulled it from my purse. “But thanks. Kiss Sydney for me.”
Shari smiled and I headed behind the bar while reading the text from my mother:
Sorry I missed your call today, honey. Dr. Forman agreed to do a conference call tomorrow at one o’clock to discuss Dad. Love you.
I closed my eyes and willed myself to hold it together. If Dr. Forman wanted to talk, then things must have gotten exponentially worse. And I was stuck here, eight hundred miles away from where I was needed most.
After my longtime boyfriend Brian cheated on me with my best friend’s aunt, who had fake boobs and very real money, I thought I had hit a low point. But when my boss tried to kissed me, only to then fire me, things rapidly spiraled out of control.
My ex-boss, Tim St.Roy, was charged with embezzling several million dollars from high-end clients in a real-estate scam. Tim was tried and convicted, his greed costing him ten years in a minimum-security prison. It cost my parents everything. The stolen funds were never recovered—and neither would my parents, since my advice to diversify and take a risk left them penniless.
I had turned their stable life into chaos. And now, my mother was too old for most available jobs and with no retirement, no way to pay for my dad’s increasing medical expenses, and a second mortgage on the house, we were one bad month away from foreclosure.
Texting my mom that I would be on the call, I put my cell back in my purse and stepped behind the bar. One customer had already left and no one was at the counter. Maybe I could avoid actually waiting on someone until Hector got here. Then I could go home to my shoebox apartment and wallow in the most recent news—news that had me crying in the employee bathroom.
Brian and Grace had eloped.
My best friend Kate had called earlier, wanting to tell me before someone else did. My throat struggled to swallow the news and I seriously considered pouring myself a drink. I didn’t care about Brian anymore, it was just the final blow after an already tough several months.
Skating my fingertips along my collar bone, I checked for some kind of physical sign of wear and tear. All the nasty things life dished out and built up had to go somewhere, right? Any day now I suspected I’d find a growth or a tumor.
“Rough night?”
My gaze snapped up and saw a very handsome, very imposing man sitting on the other side of the bar.
His chiseled jaw was lined with day-old scruff and his thick chocolate hair was a little longer and slightly unruly. At one point it must have been perfectly combed, but judging by exhaustion in his dazzling green eyes, I guessed it had been a long day for Mr. Suit and Tie.
I batted my lashes to keep the tear that had been sneaking up on me at bay. “I’m fine, thank you. What can I get for you?”
He looked me over for a long moment, as if determining if I was telling the truth—which I wasn’t.
“Gentleman Jack on the rocks. Although from the looks of things maybe I should be offering you a drink.” His deep voice rolled over me more smoothly than the liquor he ordered, and the sound spread chills over my skin. Heat was licking on its heels leaving my body confused and achy.
“Man problems?” he asked.
I started pouring the drink. “Yes, but the particular man in question is now somebody else’s problem.” I forced a smile. “And even though I’d love to take you up on that drink, it’s against corporate policy.”
“And I take it you are one of those good girls who always follows the rules?”
When he put it that way I sounded so boring. No wonder Brian left me for another woman. “Unfortunately, yes.”
He nodded. “A bartender with morals. Interesting.”
The way he said interesting, his intense eyes running the length of me, made me feel anything but boring or good. It made me feel like doing something dangerous.
“Who hired you to tend bar?” Suit and Tie asked. His tone held more than a slight edge of disbelief.
I set his drink down in front of him, maybe a bit harder than I should have. “Excuse me?”
His gaze slid over me. That one heated look was apparently all the explanation I was getting. Too bad that one look also made those stupid goose bumps come back.
“I am just covering at the moment.” He nodded, those green eyes strolling up and down my body once more as if he had the right to do so.
“You must be new,” he rasped and took a long swallow of his drink. “I would have remembered seeing you.”
“I’ve worked here six months now. You stay here often, Mr. …?”
He grinned and took another drink. “Preston. And yes, I travel a lot and stay here often.”
“Well, pleasure to have you back.” I gave my best “hospitality is our specialty” smile and tried to ignore the buzzing beneath my skin. The man was intimidating and starkly beautiful. His body was hard, like his unnerving eyes, but something about his presence was soothing. This was a man who was in control of his world and knew what he wanted. Power and confidence radiated from him but there was a relaxed essence surrounding him. The way his white collared shirt was rolled up at the sleeves, exposing his tan, strong forearms and Rolex—
Shit! He was not only a regular of the Strauss Hotel but one of “those.” Between his demeanor and obvious money, he must be the kind of VIPer my whole team prepped for. I didn’t remembered seeing a Mr. Preston on the check-in docket today, but between the chaos of being understaffed, my growing worry over my parents, and feeling nauseated about Brian and Grace eloping, I hadn’t been on my A-game in terms of paying attention to details.
“What’s your name?” He smiled over the edge of his glass and a whole different feeling fluttered in my stomach.
“Megan!” Hector called from across the room. He hustled over to me. “Thanks so much, I owe you.”
“It’s no problem.” I turned my attention back to the man at the bar. “Nice meeting you.”
I grabbed my purse from behind the counter just as the customer in the corner booth raised his empty glass in the air.
“I’ll get that,” Hector said, and went over to the guest. I stepped around the bar and tried not to look at Suit and Tie when I passed him.
“Aren’t you going to help me with my bags?” he asked.
Now, I had to look at him. Mistake. There was a hunger in those brilliant greens that was hard to ignore. And I was too mentally exhausted to care that my long neglected body responded in every way.
“Excuse me?”
“You work here, don’t you? Aren’t you going to help me with my bags?” He pulled out his wallet and set money on the counter. I looked at the empty stool on each side of him.
“You don’t have any bags.”
He picked up his briefcase that rested near his feet and held it out to me.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes. You wouldn’t want me to complain to management about your lack of hospitality.”
“I am management.”
“Then all the reason you should know better.” A smile sliced across his face more shocking than the color of his eyes. Good lord, no man had a right to look this good.
He didn’t let me respond, simply handed me his briefcase and placed his hand on the small of my back, instantly guiding me out of the bar. I really hated my body in that moment. Just the warmth from his palm, resting possessively low on the small of my back, sent shivers racing and thoughts about what his touch would feel like skin on skin. Thankfully, the elevators were close. He hit the penthouse button, a floor that was reserved for Strauss family members or the very highest esteemed guests. Again, I mentally hit myself for not being ready for this man’s arrival.
“I didn’t see you down on our log, Mr. Preston.”
“I’m a day early.”
My brain struggled to mentally go through the check-in list for tomorrow but unfortunately, I had forgotten to look at it before hustling to cover the bar tonight.
“Don’t worry. I won’t put it on the comment card that you don’t know who I am or are unprepared for me.”
“We’re prepared!” I said a bit quicker than I meant just as the doors dinged open to the penthouse floor. He extended his arm, offering me to exit first. I did and took a left down the hall. A single door was at each end of the wing. The layout was massive. The penthouse had a separate office on the other side of the hall with its own outside door.
When I reached the entrance to the penthouse I was almost shaking. Today was a bust. I was upset, wired and now thanks to this elegant domineering stranger, horny.
“Well, have a pleasant evening, sir.”
He grinned and took the key from his inside coat pocket and unlocked the door. He propped it open just enough to put his Italian leather-covered foot in the jamb, keeping it barely ajar.
“That was my hope,” he said and his eyes shot to mine.
I stood there, clutching his briefcase, my heart banging out of my chest. He reached out and trailed his fingers down my arm, stopping at the death grip I had on the handle.
“Thank you for your service.” The way he said those words were dark, yet had a playful undertone.
“You’re welcome and if there is anything else you need don’t hesitate to call.”
He smiled and it sent my heart racing. “I don’t have your number.”
“I meant the front desk, sir.”
“I know what you meant,” he stepped closer, “And you know what I meant. Tell me, is it exhausting?”
“Following all those rules?”
I couldn’t think. Couldn’t process what was happening. It was like some pheromone seeped from him and was rendering me totally complacent. I was actually considering what proposition lay in his eyes.
The way he looked at me. All of me. Like I was standing in front of him naked without shedding a stitch of clothing. My body hummed in such a traitorous way that my pulse pinched the tips of my breasts like sharp snapping fingers.
I let go of the briefcase and he took it. He squared his shoulders and all that masculine heat wrapped around me like a predator examining its target. It was obvious this man exerted power and got what he wanted. Only problem was, I was in his sights and had no idea how to react.
“I-I must be going, Mr. Preston.”
“But you’re not.” He stepped closer, his breath fanning over my forehead, cornering me. I was considered tall for a woman. In heels I pushed five-ten, yet he was still a good four inches taller.
Somehow, he maneuvered me into the doorway, one foot inside the room, one still in the hall. I didn’t know which way to step. The jamb of the entry pressed between my shoulder blades and my front was completely covered by a tower of muscle and spicy smelling yumminess.
Part of me wanted to run, but the practical part of my brain had shut down a while ago. I hadn’t been this close to someone in a while. My entire being craved this man. Was begging for this nearness. I tried to look at the ceiling and break the spell Preston had over me, but two emerald beacons once again snared my attention.
My brain might be shot, but I knew this wasn’t a good idea.
“I’m sorry. This is unprofessional. You’re a guest and I’m an employee of the hotel.” Even when I attempted to reprimand myself it didn’t sound convincing.
“You’re not on the clock,” he whispered and traced a finger along my hairline from my temple to my ear. “Right now, you’re just a woman. I’m just a man. No rules. No expectations. Just pleasure and escape.”
A small moan escaped my mouth before I could stop it. I wanted to be swallowed up by everything he was offering. To let go. For one night give in to something good. Something intense. Forget that life was spinning around me and, for one night, pretend to exist in the moment. And judging by the fire in his eyes and the bulge pressing against my belly, intense would just be the beginning.
“You’re just passing through, right?” It was the only thing I could think to say because his mouth crept dangerously close to mine.
“That a problem?”
“No,” I whispered. It was actually better that way.
He tossed the briefcase into the room and it slammed onto the floor. In one fluid motion, his hands were on me. One cupping my hip and the other my face. He yanked me into his hard body and kissed me hard. Sliding his tongue between my lips, he drew in one strong taste, drinking down every piece of hesitation I had. Inhibitions vanished. One amazing kiss left me dazed and oh so willing.
“You never told me your name,” he said and bit my bottom lip.
“Y-you heard it…”
“I want you to tell me.”
“Megan,” I whispered.
He gave a curt nod, as if that was all he needed. Which worked for me. The more details, the bigger the mess. Right now I reveled in the better part of my brain turning off and letting my body take over. I wanted to forget. Forget about a cheating boyfriend that broke my heart. The boss that stole my family’s money. Forget that my father, the one man who had never let me down, was suffering from his own kind of forgetting—and it was starting with me.
My eyelids felt like they were lined with recently welded steel. I didn’t want to be in my thoughts. I didn’t want to be alone with them anymore. Tonight…it just felt like too much to bear. And staring down a sculpted build of masculine strength, it was the first time in a long time forgetting was actually possible.
He studied my face for a moment, as if he sensed a slight shift in my mood. I gripped the back of his neck and pulled him down.
“Please, Preston. Just kiss me.”
The last six months of my life was disappeared with the barest of touches and his lips. Everything fell away, and that was exactly what I had wanted. This moment. Just him.
He slanted his mouth over mine. His large palm was still cupping my face and he pushed his thumb on my chin, opening my mouth wider. Delving his tongue inside, he took a deeper draw from my mouth like he was gulping down his last breath of air.
I’d never felt more consumed and we hadn’t even gone past kissing. He didn’t rush. Every lash of his skilled tongue was deliberate. Passionate. Long, hard strokes of his masterful mouth sent shivers to every part of my body.
I gently cupped his face in my palms, tracing my fingertips down his chin with slight pressure. I wanted to feel him. Feel his jaw work as he devoured me. The soft scratch of day-old stubble abraded my palms. He smelled, felt—kissed—like a man. So strong and controlled, like a well-oiled machine drawing every last ounce of willpower from me.
He pulled back just enough to look into my eyes. A frown split his dark brows. Had I done something wrong? I gently pulled my hands away.
“Don’t,” he grated. The words were sharp and cut through all the layers of misery I’d been carrying around. He gripped my wrists and guided my hands back to his face. “Don’t take your hands from me. Understand?”
I nodded. It was an obvious order, but for the briefest of moments, I caught a glimpse of vulnerability behind the hardness of his eyes. His mouth was back on mine and he didn’t slow down. His seeking tongue unleashed another dose of intensity and my whole body melted for him.
He pulled the hem of my tight skirt up a couple inches, allowing my legs freedom to bend and move better. Grabbing my ass, he hoisted me up. I instantly wrapped my legs around his hips and my arms around his neck. He gently bit the column of my throat as he maneuvered me into the penthouse. I heard the door shut behind us. He didn’t stop, instead heading toward the bedroom.
I had no time to take in the surroundings. Dim light, the smell of fresh clean linen and then soft cotton. A mattress hit my back. He made quick work of his shirt, threw it off, and stood at the end of the bed. My breath caught when I tried desperately to inhale. But the sinful man staring me down was making a simple intake of oxygen difficult.
My God, he was gorgeous. Broad shoulders, thick, firm muscles that spread across his chest and down his torso. His abs were cut and coiled so tightly they resembled welded bronze.
Those haunting green eyes beamed against the soft light, never leaving mine as he took off my left stiletto, then the right. Sliding his hands up my shins, I stifled a moan at the warmth of his touch. His roughened palms scratched against my silk stockings. I felt so small. He could close his whole hand around my calf and probably touch thumb to finger.
He continued his slow assault up my body until he came to my skirt. He unclasped it and peeled it down my legs and off, leaving me in my white lace thong.
“Unbutton your top,” he commanded.
I did. I opened each button, noting how my fingers were trembling with anticipation and nervousness. I’d never had a one-night stand before, never considered myself the kind of girl to have one, but nothing would have made me leave his bed—this moment.
I opened the fabric, baring my pale lacy bra that matched my panties.
He looked at me for a long moment, as if examining the entire length of my frame.
“White,” he rasped. “Such an innocent color.”
I glanced down my body. My stockings were nude but everything else was white. I’d never considered the “innocent” aspect before.
“You’re a lovely woman, Megan.” His voice was raw and heated but the words hit a chilly chord. It was a polite gesture, a baseline compliment designed to flatter yet maintain a distance, but I wanted to hear the words he was obviously holding back. The words that accompanied the growl that vibrated from him when he kissed me.
I didn’t want to hold back tonight. I didn’t want to give in to responsibility and torturous thoughts. I wanted intensity. Unguarded words and actions. To hear what kind of words matched the man with a dominant stance and sexy stare.
“A lovely woman?” I asked and positioned myself on my knees. With my white shirt hanging open and decked out in matching lingerie, my goal was to project more sex appeal than “lovely.”
Something that sounded like a low groan broke from his chest. I crawled toward him, confidence coursing through me. His eyes smoldered and I knew he was on the brink just like I was.
“Do you like ‘lovely’ girls, Suit?”
His hands fisted at his side and his gaze trailed from my face, to my breasts, then back up again. He didn’t answer so I pushed with, “Maybe nice girls?”
“And if I do?”
I pushed to my knees again at the end of the bed. “Then I’m sure to disappoint you.” Kneeling on the bed with him standing before me, I was eye level with his impressive chest.
“You look like a nice girl, Megan.”
I had spent twenty-three years being nice and all it had gotten me was trouble. Nice was easy to walk all over, lie to and shatter. I was done with nice.
I gripped his belt and unfastened it. “Not tonight.”
I couldn’t be. The moment I started thinking was the moment reality weaseled its way back into my mind. No reality. No soft, sweetness. No nice.
His eyes remained on mine. A silent challenge to see how far I’d go. I unbuttoned his fly and reached into his boxer-briefs.
The man was endowed. Not bothering to take his pants completely off—because that would mean I’d have to give up what I was currently holding and there was no way I was doing that—I worked his pants low enough on his hips so I could pull him free. His cock jerked in my fist, daring me to stroke.
I swallowed hard.
“Losing your nerve?” he said. Somehow, this had turned into a game, and I was more than ready to play.
“No. I was just making sure I followed your instructions of keeping my hands on you.”
With a tight grip on his cock, I tugged and fell to my back. He had no choice but to follow. He caught his weight, his hands landing on the mattress on either side of my head, bracing himself so his big body didn’t crash down on mine.
“What do you want from me, Megan?”
“Right now?” I gave a tentative stroke. “Everything you’ve got. No holding back.”
An evil grin split his face. “Done.”
He tore my shirt away and yanked my bra off with one hard rip, instantly bearing my breasts. The cool air didn’t even have time to hit my flesh before his mouth latched onto my nipple. I skimmed my hands up his body and wove my fingers in his hair. When he bit down on the sensitive peak, I cried out and arched my back for more.
He paid the same attention to the other. Nipping the plump flesh of my entire breasts, as if eating me alive. The only move I could make was to grip him tighter as he raked his mouth along my body, tasting and sampling every square inch from the bottom of my ribcage to the base of my neck. Pulling more of my skin between his lips, he kissed down my throat and along my collar, but always ending on the swell of my breasts, delivering one last bite to my throbbing nipples.
“You taste like sunshine and raspberries.” He opened his mouth, skating his teeth down the center of my chest to my navel and leaving a slightly welted trail of teeth marks. “Ripe and warm…I could eat you.”
He looked up my body to catch my gaze. He flicked the edge of my panties with his tongue and smiled against the lace. My breaths were coming so quickly I could barely keep up with my lungs.
Looping a finger around the crotch of my panties, he tugged until I heard the quick screech of lace ripping. He pulled away the tattered material, leaving me in nothing but my stockings. His hot mouth closed around the soft spot of my inner thigh and he sucked hard.
“Christ, you’re fucking mouth-watering,” he growled against my skin.
My blood was boiling and satisfaction surging. That was the growl I had been waiting for. No niceties. No polite words. Raw and unchained lust.
His breath danced over my aching core and I arched. Begging him to taste me where I desperately needed him. Instead, he drew away from me and stood. A clanking and rustling noise rang out as he shucked his pants completely and knelt at the foot of the bed. He grabbed the back of my knees and yanked me toward him until my ass was almost entirely hanging off the edge of the mattress. He spread my legs wide and barely brushed his lips over my clit. My hips jolted upward, seeking more.
“You have the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.” He didn’t say anymore. Just tossed my legs over his shoulders and buried his face between my thighs.
His tongue darted out and flicked the tangled bundle of nerves, fast and hard. A hot flush clapped my body and I arched into him.
“Yes!” I gripped the sheets at my side and arched.
“Ah-ah,” his words vibrated against my aching flesh, “remember the rule?”
I looked down and saw those green eyes staring at me, demanding and angry. I was supposed to be touching him. I let go of the sheet and placed my palms tentatively on his head.
A low rumble broke from his chest. He sounded pleased. I had never touched a man’s head while doing this before. It seemed so…erotic.
“Good. Now hang on tight, sweetheart,” he rasped.
His palms slapped down on my thighs and he tugged me even closer to him. There was no other area on him I could reach. I had no choice but to keep my hands where they were.
He licked the entire length of my sex. I wound my fingers in his hair. He seemed to like that. Keeping his intense green gaze on mine, he took another taste. My grip tightened, so he did it again, and again, until he was raining wet flicks over my pussy, building a fire in my bloodstream.
All inhibitions gone, I pulled his thick hair and dug my heels into his back. I wiggled and moved to try to get him deeper, closer. My entire body was humming and pulsing with liquid nitrogen, the pressure so intense it made my toes tingle. The pleasure was so hot, it felt cold. I was so close…
He released me, quickly grabbed a condom from his discarded pants, rolled it on, and crawled up my body. Adrenalin burst though my veins and lit up every cell. The need to burn this energy and ride him was overwhelming.
I pushed on his chest and he turned to his side. Letting me maneuver him to his back, I straddled his hips. His big cock jutted between us. I leaned down and cupped his face in my palms like I had at the door when he first kissed me.
Slowing the pace just slightly, I explored his mouth with my tongue, taking laps, followed by little nips of his full bottom lip. He cupped my ass and ground his dick against my clit. It was obvious this man was dominant. Probably never laid back and took anything, but right now, I wanted to show him all I was feeling. Take out my pent-up aggression on the body he was offering. He was the one who asked me up and he was the one who made the move. I was ready to execute the deal.
Never speeding up the kiss, I subtly moved my hips until I was able to position the tip of his cock at my entrance.
“You know,” I whispered against his mouth, “I think you’re a lovely man, Preston.”
I slammed down on him. My pussy instantly encasing him and we both cried out. His vice grip encased my hips, fingers digging into the bone.
“Fuck, woman.” His muscles were all bunched and chorded and I ran my fingers down the flanks of well-cut abdomen.
He lifted my body so that just the tip of his cock was breaching me. His hips shot up just as he pulled me down on him. A sharp gasp burst from my throat.
“You’re so big,” I breathed.
Bracing my weight and sticking to the “constant touch” rule, I pushed on his chest and whipped my hips in his lap. Taking him deep, then stirring until the crown brushed that sensitive spot inside over and over. I was ready to scream from the pleasure.
“Not yet, sweetheart,” he grated. The edge of need and vengeance in his voice made my skin prick. “I’m not done with you yet.”
Without severing our connection, he flipped me to my back. He pushed his knees against my thighs, parting them even wider, and thrust again.
“Oh, yes!” I wrapped my legs around him.
He snaked one arm beneath my lower back and pulled me against him. He was rough, deep and ungodly amazing. Every forceful move and sharp thrust was controlled and manipulated so that every nerve ending of his hit mine. The man made love like it was an art and I was falling hard and fast. The burning beneath my bones spread from my core to my fingertips until I couldn’t register anything but him.
His scent. His body. His skin. It was the only thing that existed.
He pumped in and out of me, that thick cock stretching me more and more each time. He grew harder with every push and retreat. With one arm around my back the other came up to fist the sheets by my head. His slick chest pressed into my breasts and the feel of our raging heartbeats pounding against each other was almost too much to take.
Weaving his fingers in my hair, he forced my stare to meet his, and silently commanded me not to sever eye contact.
I held on tight. My nails sinking in to his shoulder blades, I kept his gaze.
“Megan…” he whispered my name and for some reason, the tender endearment made my chest hurt and a ping of wetness rise from my tear ducts.
My body erupted. Every atom burst into flames and spiraled from the center of my body to the tips of my toes. I came apart. Yelling his name and begging for more. He gave it. My orgasm was stronger, longer, than any kind of pleasure I’d ever experienced and he drew it out to the edge of the abyss.
When I felt him twitch inside me and the back muscles beneath my palms tighten, it was then I felt it. His release. His grip on me tightened and he buried himself over and over, riding out his own end.
My body was spent and my mind in worse shape than my liquefied bones. Never moving too far away, he pulled out of me and disposed of the condom. I went to sit up, but his arm came around my stomach and snatched me back.
Burrowing his face in the curve of my neck, he fell instantly asleep, holding me like I was something he didn’t want to leave.

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