His lips popped off my breast, and he rose to his full intimidating height. He was at least a foot taller than my short stature, all flexing muscle and urgent with need. He grumbled—definitely disappointed, “There’s a condom in my back right pocket. Grab it.”
My lips twitched. “You wanted to bareback it, huh?”
“You have no idea how much I wanted to,” he stated on a purr. “Now grab the condom and put it on me. My hands are going to get busy.”
I wrapped my arms around his waist and found the correct pocket with one hand. My other slid under the waistband of his pants and grabbed an ass cheek. My eyes rolled into the back of my head.
Fuck, he had a toned, perfect ass.
Then my breath hitched in my chest. His right hand—definitely his dominant hand—cupped my wet core and began to gradually rub back and forth as he used his left hand to hitch my right leg over his hip. Giving him better access. He held my bare thigh tight in his large palm while his other hand went to work. I shuddered inside his hold, my grip on his ass tightening as he slid two fingers through my folds.
“So wet,” he groaned.
“Mhm.” I sighed and pressed my lips to his shoulder, taking a small lick against his flesh. I bit down as he gently slid his two fingers inside my core, squashing the shout of relief that wanted to rush forth. My hips repeatedly ground against the heel of his palm that he pressed against my clit, and I squealed softly against his shoulder. I released the bite, loving how he shuddered at the action. “So good, Rune. So good.”
“Shh, quiet now, beautiful,” he hissed, his voice dropping in guttural need.
I pulled my shaking hands between us and opened the condom packet. It was so damn hard to do with the way he pumped his fingers in and out of me, hitting my G-spot easily with the crook of his fingers inside me. I couldn’t contain my harsh breathing, my eyes closing in euphoria, my hands working without sight to pull his pants over his hips.
“Don’t drop the condom,” he whispered, sounding amused—and a little worried. His working fingers slowed their experimental exploration of my pussy, allowing me to think straight. “It’s the only one I have on me.”
“Dammit,” I growled. I gripped the condom tighter. Indeed, it was so slippery I had almost dropped it to the dusty floor in my haste to shove his pants down. I opened my eyes and squinted. Only the light slipping through the edges of the door aided in my fumbling to roll the condom down his impressive cock. I moaned at the hardness of him, the tip already wet with pre-cum. “Go slow, or you’ll split me in two.”
He had the cock of a god.
Long. Hard. Thick.
Fucking perfect. It would be un-fucking-believable inside me.
He pressed his hand against my core, his words a pure needy growl. “You’re tight as hell. I’ll be careful.” His head tilted in question, his black hair brushing his sharp cheek bone. “How long has it been?”
“About six months,” I muttered, done rolling the condom down. I pumped him a few times in my fist and grabbed his balls with my other hand, massaging them. My lips curved up at the edges at his shaking exhale. “And you?”
“Yesterday,” he moaned, his own head dropping back in pleasure.
I snorted. “So you are the playboy everyone says you are.”
He shrugged, the muscles in his shoulders bunching. “I am what I am. I love pussy.” Rune tipped his head back down, and grinned, flashing his straight white teeth in the darkness. “And the women I’m with don’t complain. They know the score.”
I sure as hell wasn’t complaining as he rubbed his palm against my clit again. “That would be?”
“The score?” Another brush of my clit.
I moaned an unsteady breath, and then muttered, “Yes.”
Blatant honesty. “I don’t settle down. With anyone.”
“Hmm. Sounds good.” And it did. I wasn’t looking for a relationship.
He sniffed at my hair and placed a gentle kiss against my lips. “But I do like the smell of chocolate chip cookies. I could get used to that.”
I chuckled quietly and slapped his shoulder. “None of that.”
His golden eyes roved my features, a small, intelligent grin gracing his lips ever so slowly. Rune didn’t comment after that, merely watching me—a smart hunter. I knew the type, knew when someone was looking into your soul to figure you out.
The man-god grabbed my other thigh, taking his talented fingers away from my intimate flesh, and hefted my frame up the wall. He grunted. “Jesus H., you weigh hardly anything.”
I had lost a few pounds living on the streets for a few weeks, but I wasn’t a big gal even in my peak form. Curious, I asked, “Complaining?”
