It’s fucking perfection.
She may be the one going through recovery but she’s also quickly becoming his very own personal addiction. An addiction that’s slowly pulling him under like quicksand.
“Will he be okay?” she asks.
“Stella’s here. If you don’t know anything about her, at least know that she won’t let anything happen to Brooks,” he manages to reply with some of his wit intact.
“Was it Isabella and Cristian?” she asks.
She trembles at speaking the names of those buffoons and he swears something will be done about that.
“No,” he answers.
She steps back and her eyes search his.
“Don’t ever doubt me,” he commands when he realizes she’s searching for some truth in his words.
She shrinks back and tries to step out of his arms as if she’s awoken from a dream and stepped into reality.
Not a fucking chance is he going to let her go again.
Instead, he tugs her soft body up against his and locks his arms around her. Her surprised gasp gives him the opening he needs.
He crushes her lips with his and he takes….and takes. Fueling his need for more of her. Feeding his craving that’s somehow become insatiable. And when she parts her lips, their tongues touch, giving him the taste of the best absinthe he’s ever tasted.
With his hand in her hair, wrapping it into a firm grip, he backs her up to the bed. She’s kissing him back with her own ferocity of want and need. Pure want and pure need. Without thought. Only on instinct. Just the way he wants her to react.
The two of them can play later. They will. He knows this for sure. Because he knows, this may be the first but fucking her won’t be a one-time thing. He can feel the truth of that in his cold heart.
Her hands are moving in a frenzy. Moving under his shirt and burning every centimeter of his skin she caresses. Their lips part and their eyes claim each other’s every thought as she climbs onto the bed. Her lips are swollen and full of anticipation. Anticipation that matches his own.
He slips the shirt over his head and throws it on the ground, reaching for the hem of her thin sleeping shirt at the same time. A grin crosses his face when the shirt comes off and he finds her olive skin glistening. He gawks at her ample breasts and salivates at the sight of her hardened nipples.
Relinquishing willpower to his primal needs, he swiftly moves forward and drags his tongue from the valley of her cleavage down over one taut breast before circling a hardened nipple and then suckling his fill of her into his mouth. His other hand traces her skin, performing the same act until he’s kneading her soft flesh in his palm.
Her moan only feeds into his desire for her, encouraging his stiffening cock to strain against the zipper of his pants.
His hand hungrily grabs and pulls at her, wanting her on her back with her legs spread for him to see, demanding that she opens up her very soul to him.
Her tight yoga pants are nothing against his impatience when he rips them off of her and tosses them over his shoulder. Now, only one flimsy piece of garment is left between her flesh and his goal.
He inhales deeply, delighting in the smell of her arousal. It heightens his senses many times over.
But he takes his time, climbing between her legs, letting their skins remember each other. He presses his straining cock against her dampness and can feel her heat even through what’s left of her clothing as he devours her lips again.
His heart is pounding in the cavern of his chest so wildly. The insanity of his need for her nearly causes him to spill himself right then and there. Without his cock even having a taste of her yet.
A taste…of her…what a fantastic idea.
Their lips part and she whines in protest.
He chuckles but can’t prolong his need for her either. He nestles comfortably in the valley of her toned and silky legs. The scent of her arousal wafts up through his nostrils again and then straight down to his twitching cock. He brushes his nose over her damp panties.
It’s satisfyingly soaked.
She snivels and clamps a hand over her mouth to silence herself. An unnecessary reaction but if it’s going to make her more comfortable, who is he to deny her that? At least, for now.
He trails the tip of his tongue up her slit, even over the fabric, while she watches until her eyes flutter. She bucks when his tongue twirls over her sensitive clit. Her reaction sets him off and he swiftly pulls the interfering garment to the side. He’s starved for a taste of her and it’s time to feast.
At the first taste of her on his tongue, there was no slowing down. Like a fiend relapsing, he tastes and drinks.
She bucks in his hands, pulls his hair, and just when he can feel her about to peak, he shoves two fingers into her warm and slick pussy. He climbs her magnificent body, pumping his fingers, curling them while kissing his way up to her neck until his lips rest on her pulsing jugular.
“Come, gattina,” he tells her, unsure if she even understood the Italian sentiment. “Look at me when you come,” he demands.
Her eyes fly open and lock onto his like a heat-seeking missile.
And she explodes, thoroughly coating his fingers. She claws at his wrist while her body moves, riding out the wave. Seeing her unhinged like this instead of in a panic nearly sets him off. It’s too much for him.
In another swift power move, his coated fingers leave her pulsing pussy. He flips her onto her side easily.
Oh, the satisfaction of her reaching behind herself to fumble with his zipper. Such satisfaction. The moment he hears the sound of the zipper undone, he’s shoving his pants down enough to free his aching cock. Like a randy high school kid excited about his first fuck, he didn’t bother to push his pants down past his thighs before he’s slamming into her hot cunt.
“Aahhh,” she cries out, her walls squeeze him, already milking him.
He shoves an arm under her, pulling her closer against him. His other hand throws her leg over his hip, spreading her wider. There are no controlled methodic strokes. Just pure fucking to feed his need of her.
Rough. Fast. Deep. Starving.
And she takes him.
“That’s it,” he encourages as her whimpers and moans grow louder and louder.
Nothing else matters right now. Not her recovery. Not her past. Not who she is or who she will become. Not that they are in a safe house with his brother somewhere on the other side of that door. The only thing that matters at this very moment is him…and her.
“You’re mine now,” he hisses. “Mine to please.”
That sets her off again. He can feel her contractions, hard and fast. So tight and wet that it sets him off too. With a loud growl through gritted teeth, he holds her leg up higher, slamming into her over and over until he’s spurting rope after rope into her.
Filling her. Claiming her.
Mine to please.
It’s been too long since he’s spent the night with a woman. It’s been even longer since he’s trusted anyone other than his brothers to be able to fall into a sound sleep with another person not just in the vicinity of where he sleeps but right next to him, in his arms.
That’s where Ariana slept through the night. Molded against his body. Flesh on flesh. Skin on hot skin.
Though he’s always been an early riser and usually in a good mood when he wakes, he finds himself in an even better mood when he walks into the kitchen the next morning.