His palms skim my stomach and slide backward along my hips and spine, dragging upward until, with a single deft flick, Cullen unhooks my bra. The lacey material slides down beneath my clothes, teasing my skin and making my sex clench hungrily at the promise of what’s to come.
Something about the bra’s fall feels decadent to me, wanton. As hot as the erection bruising my hipbone. Cullen runs his cheek along my neck, his stubble grazing my skin, and God, I want more.
I want everything.
I run my tongue along Cullen’s clavicle, inhaling his male musk before nipping the delicate skin right over the bone.
Cullen lets out a noise that’s something between a gasp and a grunt. Sliding his hands from my back to my head, he grips the sides of my face firmly, holding my seeking jaw in tantalizing control of how much of him I can reach. His next kiss isn’t a kiss at all. It’s a wild possession of my mouth, deep and punishing and so hot that my sex drips moisture along my thighs. As Cullen sucks on my tongue, his hands holding my head firmly, I feel myself gladly returning the reins back to him as if I’d never attempted to seize them in the first place.
Cullen marches into me, forcing me back until he’s plastered my body between himself and the cool metal door, his hips pinning mine in place. Unzipping my fleece jacket, Cullen slips it down to the floor, pulling my sweater and undershirt over my head in a smooth, sure motion that leaves me feeling undeniably wanted.
With me naked from the waist up, Cullen pauses, the corner of his mouth lifting as he takes me in.
“W-what is it?” I ask, my befuddled mind trying to work out the reason for this halt in the action, my breathing quickening.
Cullen smirks, flicking a lock of hair from my bare shoulder—hair that used to be tucked into a presentable ponytail before his undressing. At the sides of my vision, I see other strands running untamed on either side of my face.
“Your hair,” says Cullen.
“What about it?” My voice comes out too high, too needy. Too lost in my want for him.
Cullen chuckles into my mouth. “I just messed it up. And FYI, it’s going to get worse before it gets better.”
Before I can respond, Cullen’s teeth graze my lips, his hands dipping into the waistline of my pants. Strong fingers lower toward the wetness I know they’ll find, as Cullen’s hardness grinds into me with rhythmic thrusts.
Lower. Lower. My pulse quickens, and I wriggle against Cullen’s hold as his callused fingers find the top of my sex. The slit of my labia. As his hand slides across my soggy panties with a righteous possession that makes me whimper against his mouth.
Then, with a single determined thrust, Cullen has his finger up inside me, his other hand cupping my right breast at the same time. The sensations link together like a dizzying constellation, my channel and my mouth and my breast all taken with the man’s demand. Zings of pleasure and intensity meld together, and I rise on my toes, writhing and searching for relief from the sheer force of his maleness.
Instead of giving quarter, Cullen slides a second finger inside me and pumps.
Again. Again.
A noise escapes me, my hands dropping desperately onto Cullen’s shoulders. As he pulls his mouth away from mine, his thumb stroking my bunching nipple, it’s all I can do to stay upright. Not that I have a choice. Not with Cullen taking charge of my body in a way that’s so wrong and so intoxicatingly right that I can barely draw breath quickly enough to gulp oxygen.
My fingers curl desperately into him, and Cullen jerks, a shock of pain plainly jolting down his body. There’s a wince on his face as he grabs hold of my wrist, but when he speaks, his voice is filled with low gravelly command.
“Take off my jeans.”
My hands are at his waistline at once, my fingers flipping open the fly to let his engorged cock spring free. My mouth waters as I stare at the pulsating shaft, the tantalizing bead of moisture at the very tip of the head begging to be licked. Suckled.
Drawing a shuddering breath, I lower Cullen’s jeans and boxers the rest of the way to the floor, and he steps out of them with the confidence of a warrior utterly in charge of his muscular body. Gripping my eyes with his moss-green gaze, Cullen brushes a knuckle from my lips down my midline. I shiver as he snakes too slowly between my breasts and stops at the top of my waistline, as if he’d not invaded it and more moments ago.
“Yours too,” he says and, damn him, crosses his arms as he watches me strip.
Heat rises to my cheeks, and I don’t know what’s more absurd—that after everything we’ve done, the simple act of baring my body for him still makes me blush, or that my treacherous body is aroused by it. Whatever it is, by the time I stand naked before him, my thighs are glistening with moisture, my nipples hard and aching for relief.
The man nods in a mix of approval and admiration. “You have a gorgeous body,” he says, his hands going to the crests of my hips as he leans to whisper into my ear. “Now let’s take it for a ride.”
Before I can protest, Cullen lifts me off my feet and lays me on his bed, my backside right at the edge of the tall mattress. The bedsprings squawk, the noise a contrast to my rapid breath. Taking my left leg, Cullen lifts it onto his good shoulder and drags the pads of two of his fingers through my wetness, making me moan. Rather than watching what he’s doing, he stares into my eyes, and I’m completely consumed by all the fire and emotion I detect in his gaze.
Emotion that goes beyond the passion of our previous coupling to something more. Something so, so much deeper.
For several agonizing minutes, Cullen explores my core, never once taking his scrutiny off my face. Every motion he makes elicits noises from me, and every time a sound escapes my mouth, he changes his pace. Faster. Slower. Trailing along my folds. Swirling in my wetness. Dipping his fingers inside me before sucking my taste off his fingertips. But not once—not fucking once—does the bastard graze my clit.
“Cullen.” I whimper out my plea, but he ignores me, continuing the torment until my hips are jutting, jolting up and down automatically without my conscious permission.
37
Cullen
Christ, she looked gorgeous. With Sky’s face flushed with need and her body singing with need beneath his touch, Cullen feared he might come right then and there. His body vibrated with the longing to plunge inside her, to make her scream his name as he brought her to climax over and over and fucking over.
But he wanted more than that now. Wanted to discover all the secrets of Sky’s body—what she liked, what drove her crazy, what scared her spitless in that paradoxical way that drove arousal to new heights. Cullen wanted to take her there. Because that was what she deserved.
“I’m on birth control,” she said suddenly, her hips wiggling beneath his hold. Her beautiful soprano was raspy, her breathing coming in short delicious gasps that hitched when Cullen lifted her hips to his mouth and traced her hood with the tip of his tongue. Sky’s fingers curled against the sheets. “Cullen, did you—”
“I heard you.” He breathed out slowly, savoring Sky’s scent as his own pulse hammered against his chest. No condom. No barrier. He’d known Sky was on the pill back from that hospital visit when he’d scanned her chart for any medications that might interfere with each other, but it wasn’t just pregnancy that the thin latex had always protected Cullen from. It was…everything.