He lifted her under the arms, let her feel that his strength was supporting her. “Put me inside you,” he said, because he wasn’t letting her go.
She bit her lip and he watched her fit the head of his cock into the mouth of her sex. As he slowly lowered her weight, she picked up on what was needed, her fingers sliding along him, helping to guide him deeper until he knew he was in position. He brought her all the way down to the hilt, so she was sitting snug on his lap. Her lips had parted, eyes glazing even more as she internalized the sensations. Though he couldn’t feel it in his cock, the tightness in his lower belly, the hard pounding of his heart, the sheer amount of sensation in every part of him that he could register…it was indescribable.
When his father had the sex talk with him, years ago, Rory hadn’t really paid attention to the things that weren’t about the physical. Thank God all those undigested details had stayed in some corner of his mind, ready to be called when he was mature enough to hear them.
You might want to have sex with everything with a pretty face, son, but when it happens with someone you love…it won’t matter how it goes, you’ll remember it more than any other time. If you continue to love one another, it will become the best that sex can be. Because the best sex comes from the heart. Not lower down.
Now he knew exactly what his dad had meant.
Daralyn’s hands had landed on his shoulders, were gripping them hard. He had his on her hips, and he pushed her down even deeper, watching her face for any signs of the wrong kind of reaction. Her grip increased, and her head tipped back, her long hair flowing over her bare shoulders.
“You are fucking beautiful,” he murmured again. “Ride me, Daralyn. I want to watch.”
The feeling low in his gut built, getting tighter as she rose and fell, her small breasts quivering, neck arched, slim arm muscles flexing as she held onto him, scraping her nails over his shoulders. As she dipped forward, her lips pressed against his throat, below his ear. She’d remembered everything he’d said about being so sexually sensitive in his upper body and she was eager to give him pleasure, too.
He held on to her, letting her know he had her and she could get as wild as her body wanted. He loved watching her get lost in it, even as primal reaction surged in him, shoving away thought and leaving only the warrior desire of possession. Every live nerve ending caught fire so that he could move with her, follow that rhythm with his upper body.
He curled his hand in her hair, wrapped and tightened the grip so he kept her head tipped back, her throat exposed. Banding his arm around her waist, he brought her even closer, tighter, holding her down for a minute on his cock as he captured her breast in his mouth, suckling. She cried out, her nails digging in, scraping over his skin. That was it. He wanted her to lose herself enough to mark his flesh.
She quivered against his hold and he shifted his palm to her buttock, gripping with a bruising hold that told her without words that now he wanted her to stay still. She shuddered with the effort it took, a plea humming in her throat as he slowed himself down, leisurely suckling, making hungry, wet noises against her nipple before he moved to the other. When he took his time there, he heard the noisy swallowing in her throat. Her fingers were busy, making those scraping pathways across his back.
He knew her pussy was clamping down on him, because his coiled lower belly reaction was growing, a flush spreading across his chest and back. An orgasm was pending because something was stroking, holding his cock. Something hot and wet, and needing what he could give to it, and her.
He started moving her with the flex and release of his arm as he kept suckling. Pressure and gravity told him he was hitting her clit against his pelvis with every downward stroke. Breath left her, and he treasured that begging note in her voice as his name slipped out. “Rory…”
He stopped, holding her on him, and lifted his head long enough to meet her gaze, inches from his. “Not until I say. I want it to build for you until it takes you over, and you lose your mind. Got it?”
His voice was a harsh growl, and she responded just as he’d intended. Color hit two high spots in her cheeks, and her voice was an erratic whisper. “Yes, Rory.”
“Good.”
He went back to her breasts. They were perfect and small, the nipples so tight and sweet in his mouth. Her body kept jerking, little spasms, and when he kneaded her buttocks in one large hand, his fingers sliding along the seam, that jerking increased. Which increased the friction of her clit where they were fully locked on one another.
“Rory…” The bliss of desperation. Most women would enjoy fighting their natural reaction to obey his command, knowing there was no true downside to losing the battle.
But for Daralyn, there was a line past which sensual torment could become actual torment, a fear of failure. He was sure she knew he’d never hurt her, but she’d been taught that failure meant disappointment, bad things.
He wouldn’t let her go there. Eventually, he’d show her the pleasurable kind of failure, the kind that meant good things, but not tonight.
He lifted his head, his mouth wet from teasing her nipples, and brought his hand back to her nape, pulling her in to kiss him. She was ravenous, frantically licking at his mouth, kissing his lips, tangling her tongue with his as he moved her up and down, up and down.
“Rory…” this one was nearly a cry for help.
He pulled her back, holding one hand in her hair, the other at her hip as he moved her on him in that inexorable rhythm. He locked gazes with her.
“Come for me. Don’t hold anything back. I’ve got you. Say it. Say it, Daralyn.”
“You’ve got me,” she gasped. And then she started to climax.
It was still a struggle. This time, though, she won the fight, because he was in her corner, and he didn’t give her a choice. His hands on her, demanding, squeezing, lifting and lowering her. He didn’t let her fight it off. He savored that look in her eyes as everything turned internal and the body took over. She was spasming on his cock, because his reaction was getting more intense as well, building. Her nails raked him as a cry ripped from her throat. His hand on her hair kept her face turned in his direction and her gaze landed on his, held there as he showed her the demand in his expression. He let her hold onto it like a lifeline. She was doing what he’d commanded. She was pleasing him. In every way. He had her.
Another hard cry ripped from her throat, a flush climbing from her neck to her jaw and into her fair cheeks. He worked her on his cock, kept her going.
The fight was over and won. Shock gripped her expression as the full force of the orgasm took her, took any control at all. She was in his hands, with no decisions needing to be made. It swept her away in bliss, and he was right there in the clouds with her. The climax grabbed him, too, took him over. A harsh grunt ripped from him, his whole body tightening up, and the surprise that flashed through her gaze then became a type of joy, her hands upon him as they rode that wave of sensation together.
The way it should be.
When they came down, he made sure he had both arms around her, didn’t ease their hold even when she went limp, her head resting on his shoulder, her arms loosely looped around him. He stroked her damp skin wherever he could reach it, murmured to her. “Good girl,” he said softly. “Beautiful woman. I got you.”