Taking Control (Kerr Chronicles #2)(3)
Author: Jen Frederick

“You deserve sainthood.” I pull her tight against me and kiss her in gratitude for driving away my moodiness.

“In honor of my impending deification, will you take me to bed and make me see heaven again?”

“Mmmm,” I murmur against her lips. “I’m sorry but no. You’re too swollen and tender.”

She draws away from me, although the circle of my arms doesn’t allow her to get far. “Are you sick? Because I swear I heard you turn me down.”

“I’m not turning you down. I’m…delaying our gratification until later.”

“Delayed gratification is for suckers. I want you now.” She looks determined, but I get my way. Always.

Picking her up, I carry her back to the bed and slide down her body until I’m kneeling between her legs. “I’ll take care of you, bunny.”

Softly, tenderly, as if she were a virgin, I stroke her delicate lips. Her clit slowly emerges, as if jealous of the attention given to her other body parts. I lick my thumb and rub it lightly across the tip.

“Ian,” she moans. My name on her lips in that breathy tone has the same effect as mainlining aphrodisiacs. My already-erect c**k throbs in response. I’m starting to believe in soul mates and life in the hereafter, because one lifetime won’t be enough with Victoria Corielli.

Sliding my palms under her ass, I lift her to my mouth.

There is so much for me to learn about her body, about what she wants and where she wants it. We haven’t even started talking about fantasies. I’ll do her any way that turns her on, in every place, and in every position. I know she likes my mouth between her legs, but her enthusiasm at giving me pleasure is unexpected.

When she has me in her mouth, her eyes become heavy-lidded with desire and her juices drip down to coat her thighs. She sucks me as if my c**k is the only thing she’s ever wanted and she’s afraid it will be the last time she can pleasure me.

The memory of her excitement at swallowing my hard length spurs me on. Her voice—hoarse after I’ve f**ked her throat hard—telling me how much she loves sucking me off echoes in my head, a mental soundtrack I replay repeatedly. I need to hear her screams now. Those noisy affirmations of how much she needs me are the most amazing morning wakeup calls in the world.

I’m too horny right now to lick her slowly. I need to feel her orgasm all over my face, to have her thighs clench my head in a vise grip, as if nothing is ever going to separate the two of us.

I suck at her lips, separating the folds with my tongue. Placing my thumb—wet from her arousal—on her clit, I tease her with tongue and lips until her thighs are moving restlessly beside my head, bumping my ears.

The taste of her is making me wild. My c**k is thick and hard and even the expensive sheets are chafing my sensitive skin. Inside her, my mental caveman grunts. Need inside her.

I thrust my fingers inside, curling them forward until I find that small, spongy spot that makes her cry out.

“Oh shit, Ian.” The hand on my head tightens and my scalp begins to protest, but the pain brings a smile to my face. She’s getting there. It’s heaven down here. I could live here, her essence sustaining me for days. Opening my mouth wide, I engulf her pu**y. Every little crevice is explored and sucked until her whole body stiffens and arches in front of me. Her soft walls are starting to convulse, and her thighs tighten.

“That’s it, bunny. Just let go.” I lap at her, maintaining the rhythm that brought her to the peak. She pulses her hips against my fingers and mouth. I torture her with my lips, tongue, and fingers until she’s crying out my name and pulling and pushing against me at the same time. Wrapping my free arm under her thighs and up around her waist to hold her against my mouth, I devour her as she bucks against me. A wild, keening sound erupts from her, and I suck down her come as it streams onto my tongue.

“Have I told you that I love you?” she whispers and pulls me to her for a fierce kiss. Her teeth nip at mine and then our mouths are fused. For long moments, the only air that we breathe is through each other. Breaking away, she pants and presses soft kisses along my jaw and down my neck.

“Only once today.” I smooth her hair back. We’ve made a mess of it. The long blonde strands are tangled and matted, but she’s never looked sexier. My gut tightens at the thought that others have seen her in this just-fucked state.

“What’s that look for?” she asks, smoothing a hand across my sweat-dampened skin.

“I’m a jealous f**ker.” Roughly, I kiss her as if I can brand her with my mouth. No one but me will ever get to see her this disheveled again.

“Are you just figuring that out, because it was pretty evident a few weeks ago when you dragged me out of the bar by my hair.”

“It was by your hand, but if you’re okay with the hair dragging, I can pull that off the next time we’re out.”

She pinches me lightly. “No, I’m not into the hair dragging thing. I’m not against a little hair pulling, though.”

“Is that right?” My tone is light, but her words have made my c**k harder than marble.

“This can’t be comfortable.” Her hand dips down to stroke me and I shudder at the caress.

Comfortable? No. “It’ll go away if you ignore it,” I lie.

“I don’t want to ignore it. I want it inside me.”

I shake my head. “You’re too sore, bunny.” I rub a finger over her lips, shiny and plump from our kisses. “I’ll hurt you.”

“I’ll feel worse if you don’t,” she pleads.

Her gentle begging makes me even harder, and I feel a twinge of guilt that her helpless desire turns me on even more. A decent man wouldn’t feel good about hearing his woman beg. Hell, a decent man probably never refers to his companion as his woman. But since I raised myself from the age of thirteen, I’ve developed my own rules and my own code.

I want. I take. I keep.

Tiny belongs to me now, and I’m not letting her go. She’s mine to love and to care for. Right now that means not f**king her again no matter how hard she begs for it.

TWO

MY ENTIRE BODY PROTESTS AS I gently pull her hand off my cock. It’s about as easy as walking into a fifty mile-per-hour headwind and I’m sweating with the effort, but I manage to put about two inches of distance between us.

“Don’t tempt me. You’re too sore, and I’d cut off my right nut before I’d hurt you.”

“Your right nut? That’s some serious talk. Usually a guy only offers his left nut.” She erases the two inches and slips a leg over mine. My little head tells me that if I don’t impale her within the next five seconds, we’re all going to die. I take a few deep breaths to regain some self-control and inch backward.