Everything for Us (The Bad Boys #3)(35)
Author: M. Leighton

Obediently, she opens her eyes to meet mine. They’re slow to focus. She’s under my spell. I reach up to tease her nipple with my free hand and I put my lips against her ear. “You want to know what’s inside my head? This is inside my head. Anger,” I say gruffly as I push two fingers down between her folds and into the slippery heat of her body. I pull them out a couple of inches and then drive them back into her, deep and hard. Rough. I feel her knees buckle, but I hold her against me and make her ride my fingers.

“But you like it, don’t you? You like me like this. You want me to take what I need. You want to be free with me, don’t you?”

Faster and harder, I jam my fingers into her. Faster and shallower her breathing becomes. When I feel her muscles tighten around my fingers, squeezing them, I move my thumb to the firm button of her clitoris and I make small circles over her, faster and faster. I see her body tense and I don’t relent until she’s standing, breathless and waiting, on the edge of her orgasm.

And then I stop.

I move my hand from her breast to my jeans, unzipping them, then placing my palm in the center of her back to push her forward. She braces herself on the granite countertop as I move one knee between her legs, urging them farther apart.

“I want you to beg me,” I hiss through gritted teeth. “Beg me to put my c**k in you and come inside your wet body. Beg me or I’ll walk right out that door.”

I’m holding nothing back now. This is the real me. This is all there is now. Fury. Rage. And blistering heat.

“Please. I want you inside me. Please,” she breathes.

“Tell me to put my c**k in you.”

“Please, put your c**k in me.”

Moving both hands to her hips, I thrust into her, deep and rough. She’s so wet, I’m exploding within three strokes. I hear a loud, angry roar. It’s me, the sound ripped from my body as I pump forcefully into her.

As I spill hot fluid into her body, I feel the spasms of her muscles get tighter and tighter. Her breath comes in deep, heavy moans as the waves of her orgasm flood her body. “You like that, don’t you? You like the feel of me coming inside you, don’t you, baby?”

I pull her tight against me, grinding into her. I look down and see my thumbs biting into the perfect round globes of her ass. Saliva gushes into my mouth. I want to sink my teeth into it. I want to see the red mark that I make on her and then I want to soothe that ass with my lips and my tongue.

The desire to lose myself in her is stronger than ever. Lose myself in her body, in her taste, in her scent. Impulsively, I withdraw from her and drop to my knees, giving in to the urge to bite her ass cheek. I hear her yelp, so I lick the spot, caressing the other cheek with my hand.

I move my hands to her hips and turn her around, facing me. With my palms against her skin, I move up the inside of her thighs and part her legs. I run my tongue between the crease of her lips, sucking her clit into my mouth while I delve into her wet body with one finger. The tunnel is slippery with our combined fluids and still spasming gently, her orgasm beginning to ebb.

Straightening, I bring my wet finger to her shocked and parted lips and I slip it into her mouth.

“This is us together. Taste it.”

Obediently, she takes my finger into her mouth and closes her lips around it, sucking, her smoldering eyes locked on mine.

When my finger is clean, I reach behind her and grab her toothbrush and toothpaste, handing them to her. Automatically, she takes them from my grasp.

Without a word, I zip my pants, turn around, and walk back out the way I came.

* * *

I rub my stinging eyes, the interstate in front of my headlights blurring for an instant before my focus comes back. I glance down at the dashboard clock. It’s nearly two a.m. I don’t know exactly what time it was when I left Marissa’s, but I know I’ve been driving for hours. I knew it was time to turn around when I crossed over into Tennessee.

After I left her standing in her bathroom, I went out to the car. As soon as I started it up, I wanted to shut it off again and go back inside. That’s the only reason I didn’t—because I wanted to. And wanting to is not a good sign.

I was already feeling guilty about taking her in such anger, and that didn’t leave a good taste in my mouth. Guilt and I don’t get along, much less guilt over a woman. That’s exactly why I avoid emotional entanglements with the opposite sex. In the last few years, I haven’t been in one spot long enough for it to be an issue, but I remember all too clearly from life before exile what it feels like to get involved with a girl. Thanks, but no thanks.

It irks me that I’m anxious to get back to her condo. I keep telling myself it’s because I’m tired. But it’s not the bed I keep picturing. Well, at least not an empty bed.

I texted her a few minutes after eleven, just to make sure she was okay. I don’t think she’s in any danger, but I’d be an idiot not to at least be cautious. My question was the same simple question I’ve asked before.

U ok?

And her answer was the same simple word it’s been each time I’ve asked.

Yes.

But that was a while ago. Surely she’ll be asleep when I get back. That ought to make things a little less . . . messy.

I’m relieved when I see the familiar curb come into sight, and even more so when I see that all the windows are dark. I make my way to the door and slip the key Cash told me belonged to her door into the lock. I guess they haven’t really had time to sort out all that his-shit, her-shit stuff. Quietly, I creep through to her bedroom door. It’s open and I can see her form beneath the covers. It’s illuminated by a shaft of moonlight peeking between the curtains.

I realize the considerate thing to do would be to crash on the couch. Luckily, I’m not the considerate type, so she would expect nothing less than for me to come to bed. To her bed. At least she should expect that from me.

Silently kicking off my boots and stripping out of my clothes, I ease onto the bed and slide under the sheet. She’s rolled up in a ball on her side, facing me. I watch for her eyes to open and listen for her to speak or stir, but she doesn’t, so I close my eyes and relax into the pillow.

A couple of minutes later, just before I drift off to sleep, I hear her voice. It’s quiet in the darkness, but still it startles me. And the touch of her soft fingers gives me chills.

“What does this mean?” she asks, tracing part of the tattoo on my arm.

“You scared the piss out of me. I thought you were asleep.”