Losing Control (Kerr Chronicles #1)(43)
Author: Jen Frederick

“You turn me on by breathing.” Each word is punctuated by a hard thrust of his hands. My grin dies quickly as he begins to f**k me more thoroughly with his fingers. The palm of his hand slaps against my clit with each drive. “Let’s see what else you enjoy.”

My thighs lock around his wrist and I cling to him with both sets of limbs, my arms wrapped around his shoulders so I can either pull him toward me or press against him. My overriding instinct is to get closer. Blood is pounding in my ears, a rhythm directed by his hand. He’s the conductor or the musician and I’m the helpless instrument in the orchestra.

“Tell me,” he commands, but I’ve lost the threads of our conversation.

“Make me come,” I half plead, half demand on his next stroke.

“Be specific.” His fingers signal that he really, really wants to hear the words.

“I want you inside me. I want you to use me hard and long. I want you to drive every thought from my mind that is you. Me. Us.” His body tenses above me, and his breathing becomes ragged. My words are turning him on so much that he’s nearly panting and that gives me the encouragement I need to continue. “I want your hard c**k filling me, making me come endlessly.” I choke out the last words because his fingers are drilling me now, hard and fast, rubbing that spongy spot on the front wall of my channel. He is relentless, and I’m nearly mindless with the pleasure he is generating.

“I’m going to f**k you so hard tonight that you will be left with only one thought. One concept: You belong to me.”

“And you? Who—ahhhh,” I cry out as he bites into the meat of my shoulder. The sensation rocks me, and I start to come. The waves of the release start small and then I’m overcome, dragged beneath the ocean of ecstasy. Through my half-closed eyes I see fierce desire painted all over Ian’s face, in the ruddy flush on his cheekbones, in the half-lidded eyes, and in the slick wet of his mouth.

“I belong to you,” he answers my unfinished question. “I’m yours.”

He pulls his fingers out of me and sticks them both in his mouth, sucking hard and then licking his palm. I nearly come again.

“Oh, God, Ian,” I tug at his clothes, wanting no barrier between us, but before I can rip off his suit coat, the car comes to a halt.

Steve’s voice sounds through the rear speaker system. “We’re here.”

Ian pulls down my shirt with a heavy sigh and sits up. With a rueful smile, he does up the zipper to my shorts. I’m still lost in a post-orgasmic state and want nothing more than to drag Ian back against me.

“Tell him to drive around some more,” I say, pressing kisses along the sides of his mouth, over the bridge of his nose and across his eyes. I straddle him and rub my still throbbing pu**y against his thick erection. “I need to take care of you.”

Pushing away, I start to slide down his legs with the intent of taking that hot and heavy c**k out of his trousers and swallowing down as much of his flesh as I possibly can.

He stops me and opens the door. “Inside.” It’s a guttural command.

He helps me out onto the pavement and I see we’re not at Central Towers but his four-story converted warehouse in the Meatpacking District where I delivered the contract. His suit is rumpled and clearly abused, but Steve says nothing as Ian bids him a brusque goodnight. I falter on my heels as Ian pushes me in front of him. In one swift movement, I’m in his arms and he’s striding to the door.

We aren’t two steps inside the door when he drops me against the wall and we attack each other. My top and shorts are off, leaving me only in my sodden panties and stilettos. I pull at his suit coat, uncaring if I’m ripping some five-thousand-dollar suit to pieces. Ian clearly doesn’t care either, as he shrugs the coat off and lets it fall to the floor. His tongue is in my mouth before the fabric hits the ground. Somewhere along the way he toes off his shoes and socks but doesn’t let go of me for an instant.

I suck on his tongue hungrily, feeling the ache renew itself between my legs. His hands are at the waistband of my panties, pushing them downward as I struggle with his buttons.

“You wear too many damn clothes,” I cry, wrenching my mouth from his. In frustration, I pull the shirt apart and a few of the buttons fly off, making tiny pings as they hit the cement floor. With some effort and help from Ian, we unfasten the rest.

Then there’s nothing but flesh against flesh. I climb up his body like a pole dancer and wrap my legs around his waist. He turns and the cool stone wall is smooth against my back. I dig my nails into his shoulders to gain leverage. The hard length of his erection rubs against my bare pu**y and nearly sets me off again.

His mouth is ravaging me and I open my own wider to receive every inch of his kiss. We kiss each other thoroughly, tongues delving into every recess, teeth nipping and biting at each other. He wrenches his mouth away and leaves a wet trail along my jaw and down the column of my neck.

Behind my ear he finds a spot that makes me sob and convulse, so he sets to it, alternately sucking and biting until I’m mindlessly grinding against him. My hands clutch his head.

“Now, I want you now,” I cry. But instead of acceding to my demands, he cradles my ass in his palms and lifts me off his cock.

“Not again!” I punch him in the back, furious that he’s going to leave me wanting, that he’s going to pull away once again.

Gruffly, he nips at my shoulder. “Damned if I’m going to have my first time with you up against the door. I can wait a minute.” He climbs the stairs, still holding me. “And so can you.”

I don’t feel like waiting. I want him too much, so I reach between us and palm his erection. It jumps in my hand and swells. “You don’t feel like you want to wait.”

“You’re going to kill me.” He angles his head toward mine, and I take up the invitation to kiss him again. I’m ravenous and he’s the only thing that will satisfy me.

Wrapping my arms around his head and hooking my ankles around his back, I continue to kiss him as he walks me up the stairs, across the long, open living space, and up another flight. His effortless strength is making me breathless—that and how his bobbing c**k rubs against me with nearly every step. It’s a tantalizing tease, a light brush, but it’s enough to make me wetter than a fire hydrant on the fourth of July.

He walks down a hallway overlooking the main floor until we arrive at the second door. He doesn’t bother to turn on the lights but instead throws me on the huge bed. I have a glimpse of navy blue beneath me before my entire vision is filled with Ian.