Hard and Fast (Fast Track #2)(28)
Author: Erin McCarthy

“It makes the angle better.” Ty brought his erection between her legs and moved it slowly up and down over her folds. “Open yourself for me.”

“Are you really going to penetrate me while I’m standing against this wall?”

“Yes. For a minute or two.”

“I find that exciting.”

“Me, too. Now open yourself for me,” he demanded, rougher this time. He wanted inside her and it was sheer torture to feel her slickness over his head, lubricating the condom and teasing him with all the warmth she would provide.

“You don’t really have to, you know,” she said, eyes half-closed. “You just push it in and that usually works just fine. A rather clever design, actually, that it remains closed until in use, but no complicated system is required to—”

Imogen yelped when Ty bit her nipple.

“I want you,” he said carefully, “to take your right hand, slide it down between us, and open yourself for my cock. Now. Not because you have to, but I want to see your fingers on yourself, because I want to feel you pulling yourself apart for me to thrust into you and f**k you. Do you understand?”

She stared at him in shock, completely still except for the rise and fall of her chest. Ty knew he was being demanding and a little impatient, but he was aching to take her and he wanted her acquiescence, her very obvious acceptance of him into her body. And she liked it. He could tell. She was shocked, yes, but most of what he saw in her eyes was excitement. Lust.

Which made him harder than he would have ever thought possible. The thought of taking Imogen to a place where she no longer analyzed every action, where she just felt and did, made him ache with red-hot desire. He was going to do that, give that to her.

“My goodness, you’re bossy,” she said.

“And you didn’t answer the question. Do you understand?” Ty started to move his c**k away from her.

She quickly nodded. “Yes, I understand.”

“Then do it.” He moved back into position.

Imogen sucked in a breath and tentatively moved her left hand down. She abruptly stopped herself and switched them. “Wait, you said right.”

Ty bit back a groan. He should have known she would follow him to the letter. “Yes. Good girl.”

Her fingers snaked down between their bodies and she closed her eyes as she found her hot, wet core. Ty watched her accidentally brush against her clit, then linger there for a second, rolling her thumb over the tight button before she redirected, sliding her first two fingers down over her folds, then opening them in a V. Opening herself for him.

Raising his right hand, Ty enclosed it over Imogen’s left hand still above her head against the wall. He gripped her for leverage and for the connection, gave her temple a soft kiss, then thrust himself into her. They both moaned, his loud and raw, hers tapering off into a whimper.

“Damn, you feel good,” he said, resting in place for a second, savoring the snugness of her enclosing him, the way their thighs were pressing together.

Her reply was another soft moan, followed by, “I feel really . . . full in this position.”

“Is that a good thing?” Ty pulled back slowly and thrust back into her, biting back a curse.

“Oh, yes,” she said, nodding, her hair puffing up above her head in a funny little cone that bobbed as she moved her head enthusiastically. “It’s incredibly good. Indescribable. De—”

She stopped speaking when he thrust into her again.

“—lightful,” she finished.

Ty would have laughed under any other circumstances, but nothing about burying himself in Imogen against his bedroom wall made him want to laugh. He picked up speed, found a rhythm that had her groans coming in regular staccato bursts, one for each time he drove deep, no matter how fast he set the pace. It was hot as freaking hell and Ty rested his head against his arm, closing his eyes as he squeezed her hand beneath hers and just moved inside her, taking in the sound of her pleasure, enjoying the feel of her slick, welcoming body.

He sensed again when she was treading too close to an orgasm. Her breathing changed, her head started to shift back and forth, and she went up higher on her toes, like she was trying to escape the intensity of his thrusts.

If Imogen said she usually came only once, Ty wasn’t going to argue with that, or think he could somehow manage to drag more than one from her. Not their first time together. He would learn how to make her come repeatedly with knowledge of her body and her likes and dislikes, and that would take familiarity. He would act on the assumption she was only going to have one orgasm tonight, and if that was the case, he damn well wanted to have done everything he could to her before it happened.

He wanted her desperate, clinging, screaming, insensible, incoherent with pleasure, groaning and squirming and so turned on that she would agree to anything and would be hard-pressed to remember her own goddamn name.

Then, and only then, would he let her have the biggest, hottest, loudest orgasm of her entire life, where she scratched and clawed and begged and lost every thought she’d ever had from her logical little brain.

So Ty pulled completely out of her and stepped back, panting as she dropped onto the balls of her feet and stared at him in shock and disappointment. He was holding her hand against the wall, but she still sagged down a little.

“Why did you stop?” she asked, dropping her eyes to his erection. “You didn’t come. Did you?”

“No. No one is coming yet. I’m just getting started with you.”

CHAPTER NINE

THE man was trying to kill her.

There was no other explanation for taking her to the edge like that—twice, Imogen might add—and then just stopping. But she had no ability to protest, because it was clear from his words and the look on his face that he was dead serious. He was not finished with her, and she suspected she was going to get a lesson in drawing out pleasure as long as humanly possible.

He had already excited her more in half an hour than other men had in six months, so she just slumped against the wall and waited for him to take his next course of action. For a fleeting second, she thought she should contribute something, maybe suggest a position or two, but she dropped the thought immediately. He had a plan, or at least liked taking control, and she was perfectly content to be on the receiving end.

Maybe next time she could be more aggressive.

Of course, if there was a next time. There were no guarantees.

All the more reason to just enjoy the attention he was lavishing on her.