Taking Control (Kerr Chronicles #2)(34)
Author: Jen Frederick

I look down between us and wish there was more light so I could see in detail the way her folds part as I drag my c**k slowly in and out of her. My c**k is slicked with her arousal, and the wet sounds of her cunt are matched by breathless panting from both of us.

“Tomorrow we’ll do this in front of the mirror so you can see how gorgeous you look.” My hands smooth over her shoulders, tracing the tense arms, enjoying the feel of the muscles in her biceps. I plump her br**sts, fondling her ni**les. Her chest heaves with labored breath, making my hands rise and fall. All the while, I’m shuttling in and out of her in even measure. She shackles my wrists with her fingers, alternatingly clenching and releasing them like a cat kneading her favored human.

Leaning over her, I brace an elbow by her side so I can kiss all of the tender places I’ve stroked with my hand.

The cords of her neck stand proud as she arches into me. The tenseness of her body, the flush of her face, and the urgent way she claws at my back all tell me she is ready to come. I slip my free hand between us. Her clit is swollen and sensitive. When I press my thumb against it, she screams my name. The sound ricochets inside the bedroom and inside my head.

I work her steadily through her orgasm. Even when she whimpers “no more,” I don’t let up. There’s more inside her. “Ride it out, bunny,” I croon in her ear. She’s entering that pleasure/pain stage where every touch is electrifying, and she’s not sure whether it’s good or bad. On the other side is another more intense orgasm, and I want her to reach it.

Sitting up, I pull her legs together and clasp her around her thighs with one arm while I work her clit with my other hand. Her nails rake the back of my hand and my forearm, and she thrashes wildly on the mattress. “Come for me, bunny. Come,” I order. And then I feel her shatter beneath me. Her sheath squeezes my c**k so tightly as she climaxes a third time that I nearly fall backwards in ecstasy. She’s shaking, almost crying, as she comes down off the high.

I slip out of her and, with three harsh jerks, start to ejaculate, long spurts of come spilling over the backs of her thighs, between her legs, and onto the sheet. With a groan, I pump myself harder, until there’s nothing left inside me, and I collapse on the mattress beside her.

The sheets are torn loose from the bed corners, and beneath my legs I can feel the scratchy surface of the mattress cover. We are a sticky, sweaty mess, and I want nothing more than to lie there with her in my arms while she tries to absorb the power of the climax that just ripped through both of us.

“I don’t understand how it gets better each time,” she says finally, licking a bit of sweat off my chest.

“Because you’re like good whiskey, bunny. Each minute that ticks by makes you taste better.”

“Like twelve-year reserve?” she giggles.

“No, more like a one-hundred-and-twelve-year reserve. You taste any better and I’m not going to be able spend even one minute out of your pu**y.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It can be an absolute f**king reality,” I tell her. Realizing that she might be uncomfortable, even if I’m not, I force myself out of the bed. With the adrenaline of the night having worn off completely, the aches and pains of the fight are making themselves known. Before I can prevent it, a slight moan escapes me.

“What’s wrong?” Tiny sits up. Her hair is tangled in a thousand knots. She’s never looked sexier.

“Nothing,” I reply before leaning over to kiss her, but she pushes me back before my lips can find their target.

“Is that a cut over your eye? Did I scratch you?” She sounds horrified.

“You did, but not there.” I present my back to her so she can see the evidence of her mindless excitement. They’re marks I’ll wear proudly. There are scratches on my forearms, ass, and thighs. I hope they burn when I shower.

“Then what?”

I realize I’m going to have to tell her something, and I don’t want to lie to her. She doesn’t deserve that. “Give me a minute.”

She nods, but I feel her gaze tracking me—and not in a sexual way. In the bathroom, I find a washrag and wipe away the sticky residue of my come and maybe even a little of hers. I toss the cloth on the floor and wet a second one for Tiny.

She’s still sitting on the edge of the ruined bed when I approach. I gesture for her to lie back while I clean her up. “After I hung up with you earlier, I was attacked.”

Her hand grips my wrist, preventing me from using the cloth. A droplet of water splashes on her stomach, but she barely notices. “Where? Who did it? Did you call the police?”

“I don’t know who they are, and no, I didn’t call the police.” Gently, I move her hand and commence my task of wiping her clean.

“Why didn’t you call the police?” she nearly yells.

“Because I don’t think either you or I need the eye of the law turned toward us.”

She falls silent and then, more subdued, asks, “What will you do?”

“Tomorrow Steve and I will discuss the matter. See what we can come up with.” While I’m not interested in lying to her, neither am I ready to confess that I’ve apprehended one of my assailants and currently have him locked in a windowless cell in Kaga’s basement. I don’t know what I’m going to do with him yet, and I’m not prepared to divulge that information to Tiny until I do. I don’t want him on her conscience. She has enough to deal with.

“Is that why you were late?”

“Yes, I had to change. Steve took me to Kaga’s, and his assistant applied some makeup on my face. I don’t know how you women stand it. I felt like a clown.” Finished with her, I toss the rag to the side. “Now I don’t know about you, but I’m not going to be able to sleep in this mess. . . however, I don’t know that I can make the bed,” I admit with not a little chagrin.

She rises and then pushes me away. “Do you have a change of sheets?”

“Yes, in the closet somewhere.”

She marches toward the bathroom, throwing on all the lights. I understand. She wants to see the evidence of the brawl. I’d want the same, so I swallow any impatience as she turns and inspects me. The light reveals what the darkness—and I—have hidden. The cut above my eye is beginning to swell and turn yellow and purple. Tomorrow it will be black and blue. The bruise above my cheekbone is light and looks only slightly darker than if I were flushed, which only happens when I’m in a heightened state of arousal.