Any remaining articles of clothing were yanked, kicked, ripped off. My careful, magazine-inspired arrangement of the weighted blanket folded over the foot of the bed, the velvet quilt over the down comforter, and the layers of pillows against the headboard was destroyed with one authoritative snatch from Wes. It all went flying and—god save me from this thunderous man—another muffled thud sounded near the corner. But there was no time to find the origin of that thud or even chastise him for all his violent flinging because he nailed me to the mattress, his knees pressed to the backs of my thighs, his hand splayed between my shoulder blades, and my belly flat on the cool sheets.
Wes ran a hand between my legs, up,up,until his fingers followed the line of my crease. Back and forth, sliding down only enough to offer a glancing brush over the place I need him most. It was arrogant, really, the way he touched me. Him and his goddamn entitlement. If I could've shifted to catch a look at his face, I was certain I'd find him smirking. Or better yet, threading that wolf's tongue of his along the seam of his lips.
God, it killed me when he did that. Killed me dead because it was never an exaggerated exercise in lip-licking but a gentle, purposeful parting of his lips while his tongue danced over the sharp edge of his teeth, telegraphing his desire.
"I like how you're humping the bed. It's cute. A good look for you," Wes mused. "I could sit here and watch all night and one of these nights, I will. I'll just fucking watch you. And then I'll jerk off on your ass and you'll be such a mess I'll have no choice but to send you off to the shower. We both know what you like in the shower, don't we?"
I flexed my hamstring muscles beneath one of the knees he was using to pin me down. He was strong but I was by no means weak. I could topple him if I wanted, reverse our positions. I didn't. I wanted him to take me exactly like this even if I hadn't known it until right now.
It was the rough scratch of his beard I felt first, that scruff moving down my spine like a tickle that only gathered in intensity, holding the pleasure of it just beyond my reach. Then it was his shaft on the inside of my thigh, the sound of plastic and foil, the cold wet of lube between my cheeks. And then he settled his knees between my legs and shot an arm beneath me, jerking my hips up, off the sheets that hadn't provided me nearly enough friction.
"I don't want to go slow," Wes warned, tapping his crown over my back channel. "I'm not in the mood for anything that could be characterized as tender, gentle lovemaking."
His hold on me was unforgiving but I managed to cant my hips toward him, a small, deliberate shift to illustrate my willingness. "And you think I am?"
Wes paused as if he meant to speak but the moment passed as he teased and I wiggled for more contact. Then, he whispered, "Stop me if it's not okay. Okay?"
My belly swooped at his softly spoken words.I'm going to be cautious with you.I was still nodding when he was halfway sheathed inside me and a low, guttural noise broke across my lips. Or maybe the noise came from Wes and it was deep enough to feel like it was mine. I didn't know and it didn't much matter.
Wes pulled back, pushed in again, and now we shared a groan that seemed to open and stretch around us like a fathomless sea of pressure and fullness and heat and lust and falling, falling,falling.With every thrust, every scrape of his teeth over my back, every primitive growl sounding in my ear, the floor disappeared and I fell for him a little more.
But it wasn't as simple as sex boiling fondness into love. It wasn't that at all and I wasn't convinced it waslovelove, the kind that crossed continents and spanned decades. It was close to love, like a spark that could bring flame to a candle or ignite a forest but I didn't know how brightly or how long it would burn yet. This was choosing something—someone—just for me regardless of the risks and being strong and safe enough inside myself to run headlong into him and all his issues. It was opening up my home, my friends, my body to him and watching with brazen glee as he staked out his claim to all of it.
And it was the sex too. It was the caution—and the complete disregard for such things if his punishing hold on my hips and the way he pounded into me were any indication. He wanted to protect me but he also wanted to rip my body in half while he did it and I loved everything about that, especially the part where I wanted to be ripped and protected all at once. I wanted him kneeling and begging and sobbing for relief and I wanted to help him into sweaters and scrub his back too.
"Baby," Wes crooned, shifting me down to the mattress, separating himself from me. "Come sit on my cock now, baby."
There was pain in his voice but he wasn't letting me see it as he shifted to lean back against the headboard. No, he merely patted his thighs, beckoned for me to climb aboard, and waited with his thick shaft angled toward the ceiling but I didn't miss the tentative hand he passed over his wounded flank.
"We can take a minute." I said this as I crawled into his lap and took his cock in hand but I meant it. I stroked him down to the root. "It's not like this is going anywhere."
He made an impatient gesture toward his parted legs. "I told you to sit on my cock."
And I intended to—but not before grabbing a few pillows off the floor and resolving the matter of his wound bothering him. "You're more comfortable like this? It's easier for you this way?"
He watched as I arranged the pillows behind him and at his side, tucking them in enough to give him some support. His brows lowered in defiance, he rumbled, "I'm fine."
"I'm sure you are but that's not going to stop me from reminding you we only want the good kinds of hurt tonight. Understood?"
He doused his shaft in more lube and ringed his fingers around the base, shooting a scowl in my direction that seemed to announceyou're not the boss of me."Get over here," he ordered. "Now."
Because Wes enjoyed waiting as much as he enjoyed discovering he couldn't get a turtleneck over his head without help, he wrapped his hand around me andled meby the dickto his lap.
I would've resented that move if I hadn't loved it more. If it hadn't doubled the heat thrumming in my veins and turned me into the neediest, sluttiest boy in Boston tonight. Though part of me did resent it and I resented the order and structure Wes was draining from my life. I didn't get led around by the dick by anyone. I didn't whimper and babble on incoherently while inching down anyone's shaft and I didn't shake—fucking shake—when fully seated and then wonder whether the entirety of my body was collapsing in on itself or crystalizing into something new, somethingbetter, something like the way I'd always imagined myself but hadn't managed to actualize.
"Oh, that's good, that's good," Wes growled, watching with unabashed awe in his eyes as he disappeared into me.
He held me with a firm, unmoving grip while I fought to find a rhythm that didn't falter every time his broad head shuttled against my favorite spots or the vulgar thickness of him abused me in the best ways. But I did, I shuddered and gasped and just kept fucking shaking as he thrust up and I slammed down, as he restrained me with one hand on my cock and the other on my hip the way he had after that first time in the shower.
I leaned forward a bit, looped an arm around his neck to gain stability as my head loosened into fuzzy bliss and my muscles couldn't decide whether to brace for impact or sink into it. Needing more, just a little more, I reached between us, covering Wes's hand with mine and urging him to stroke me.
"No," he replied, his head thrown back and the long column of his neck exposed. "I'm not letting you jerk off while I fuck you. Not happening."
"Then do something," I ground out.
"No," Wes repeated, and that was it.No.I was full and stretched beyond belief, hovering in a dreamy, drunken space where my skin conducted electricity and every rock of my hips antagonized my instincts formore, harder, nowand I could do this with him all night, all weekend,always,but I had to do it with nothing more than the clamp of his iron fist around my desperate, aching shaft.
"Wes, do somethingnow."
