There was a dark promise in his eyes as his gaze held mine for a second while he tried to catch his breath.
He moved so quickly that I didn't even know what his intentions were before he was leaning forward, grabbing my ankles, and tossing me onto my back while spreading my thighs wide, and burying his face between.
There was nothing slow or teasing or sweet about him.
He devoured me, ate me like he was starving, like he was a man enjoying his final meal.
Up to and right through an orgasm, leaving my thighs shaking and my back arching.
But he wasn't done, not even close.
He barely waited for one orgasm to subside before he was driving me back up again, this time his tongue moving up and down my cleft, circling around, but never touching my too-sensitive clit. His tongue moved downward once again, curling in on itself, then thrusting inside of me, fucking me until I was moaning, until I was begging, until my hands were grabbing his head, holding him against me, until my hips were rising up to demand more.
Just when I was sure I was going to come, though, his tongue slipped out of me. His head lifted as he thrust two fingers inside me, pressing up against my G-spot before, without any warning whatsoever, his other hand struck outward, slapping my pussy hard, creating this pain/pleasure mixture that sent me unexpectedly shooting through another orgasm.
"McCoy, please," I begged as I came back down to his fingers fucking me. "I can't..."
"You will," he corrected me, his thumb moving outward, working around my clit as his fingers got more and more insistent.
"I can't... I... can't," I insisted even as my walls tightened around him, ready to prove me wrong.
But this time, when he got me to that edge that promised oblivion, his fingers moved away from me. His hands grabbed my hips, turning me onto my stomach, then yanking my ass up high.
There was the barest of pauses as he grabbed protection before his cock was slamming inside me, taking every inch of me.
"Move," I whimpered when he stayed buried deep.
"You move," he demanded, landing a slap to my ass. "Show me how you want me to fuck you," he added.
And with the aching need for release gripping my system, I had no choice but to start to move, slamming my hips back into him. Slow at first, then faster and harder as the pleasure started to build.
"McCoy, please," I begged, hands fisting the sheets.
"Please what?" he demanded, slapping my ass again, harder, making my body jerk.
"Please fuck me," I demanded.
There was one more hard slap before his hands were gripping my hips, sinking in to the point of pain as he used them to slam my body back into him as he thrust forward.
Hard.
So hard it bordered on pain, but didn't quite cross that line. Instead, all it did was create this new, intoxicating sensation that had me burying my face in the covers as the pleasure turned my moans to outright cries as I got closer and closer to that edge.
"That's it," McCoy growled as my walls tightened hard around him. "Squeeze my cock," he said, thrusting harder, faster. "Come," he demanded. "Come for me," he said, voice getting tight.
And just like that, I did.
I swear I saw white.
All I knew for the next few moments was the waves crashing through me, the way I felt both inside and out of my body at the same time, experiencing the pleasure, but completely out of control of the way my body shook, the way my legs gave out, making me fall down on my belly.
I was still there when I finally came back down from the orgasm, finding McCoy flat on his back next to me, one arm thrown over his head, the other resting on his stomach.
"Missed that," he admitted, turning his head to give me a tired smile.
"So much so that you almost killed me," I said, managing a weak laugh.
"Oh, but what a way to go, right?"
"Right," I agreed, finding just enough strength to push up, then flop right back down on his chest, giggling a little bit at the grunt he let out at the impact.
"You good?" he asked. "Kind of lost control a bit there."
"I think I like it when you lose control."
We stayed that exact way for a long time. McCoy's hand running absentmindedly up and down my spine until I felt oddly tingly all over.
"What?" I asked when McCoy let out a chuckle.
"Your stomach is grumbling."
"Think there are still some of Eddie's fajitas left?" I asked.
"Worth checking," McCoy said, starting to fold up.
"No," I said, pressing a hand to his chest. "I'll go," I told him.
"I can—"
"You've been doing enough lately. And I've been taking advantage."
"Don't hear me complaining," McCoy said, pulling me closer to press a kiss to my forehead.
"No. But it's my turn to fetch the food. Lime or no lime?" I asked, climbing off of him and the bed, stopping for a second to grab a pair of clean panties out of the laundry basket, and shimmying into them.
"Lime."
"That's the only right answer," I informed him. "Drink?"
"Beer?"
"Okay. I'll be right back," I told him, taking a second to drink in the sight of him before turning and going out into the hall.
The house was relatively quiet. Since Anton was still on the loose, the clubhouse was pretty much on lockdown with only the brothers, Teddy, Eddie, the prospects, Arty, Ayanna, and Booker allowed to visit. Which meant no lady friends for the guys. It turned out that, deprived of that, they chose to spend a lot of their time catching up on sleep.
While McCoy had been great while I recovered, I had to give a shout out to all the others in the club as well. If McCoy was busy, one of the others would bring me up a plate and encourage me to eat. Remy had taken over the care of Franklin. He even brought him and Oscar in to see me several times a day. Huck came in to keep me updated on the search for Anton. Teddy had brought me a recovery care package with the softest robe that ever existed and fancy chocolates imported from Belgium.
Really, each and every one of them had been amazing.
And on top of taking care of me, they were keeping an eye on Belle for me. I could hear her some afternoons, working on shooting with Alaric, or having bike lessons with Che, learning about car repair with Donovan, and having sparring lessons with Seeley.
When he'd come home from the hospital, Harmon and Huck had moved Joss and Betty in with them for the time being. Harmon had more experience with wound care, and everyone had agreed that Betty being in a family environment was probably better than stuck in a house with a bunch of guys.
She'd been surprisingly resilient about the whole situation. Which I personally attributed to having Belle to talk to, someone who understood what she'd been through. And also the fact that she'd been informed that she was going to get to live with Joss, and get away from her parents. She was over the moon about what the future might have in store for her.
We were all excited to see as well.
The kitchen was quiet save for the sound of one of Remy's cats meowing mournfully at the back door, wanting to go out and hunt, and seeming not to realize that he could easily fall prey to a predator too at night. Remy liked to keep his cats indoors, but he had one that pitched such a fit that he let him out in the mornings to wander around for a bit.