Holy shit…
I don’t want to shut my eyes, but my lids flutter with each rupturing nerve. His hand disappears beneath mypanties, and he slips two large fingers inside of me, pulsing them with mastered speed.
“You’re incredibly wet, darling,” he says with a heavy breath. “You’ve been a bad girl, not giving your body what it craves.” He lifts me a little higher and rocks against me while he’s fully clothed. The force feels so damn good. He slaps the side of my thigh.
Fuck me.
My limbs are tight in his clutch, and it’s everything I can do not to scream. All the noises just lock tight in my chest. I think I’ve spent so much time holding in sounds when I touch myself that it’s hard to let go.
“Let me hear you.”
He rocks harder. I wish his pants were off. I wish I could see his ass that tightens as he pounds into me, in sync with his fingers.
He slaps me again, more towards my ass this time. I let out a wrangled cry that even surprises me.
“You liked that,” he says.
“God…yes…”
“God’s not in this bedroom, Rose.”
My arm covers my eyes. I barely hear his words. “Fuck…” My lips part in a silent scream. I clench my comforter, and a wetness seeps beneath my ass. I look up and see the tequila spilt all over the bed.
And I don’t even care.
“Connor,” I breathe. “…Connor…harder.”
I see his lips lift before my lids close again. And he obliges by quickening the movement of his fingers and slamming into me. Then his hand finds the length of my neck. I open my eyes as he wraps his fingers around my throat and squeezes so tight.
I can’t breathe.
All the blood rushes to my head. He chokes me, not hard enough to hurt me, but enough to be lightheaded. This is what I wanted only minutes earlier. The fact that heunderstood this without me asking—it drives me to a new point, a new climax that I have never, ever experienced before.
I come in a turbulent, blissful wave. I can feel myself contract around his fingers as he keeps them inside of me. A thin layer of sweat coats my body, and when he pulls out his fingers, he grips my chin, forcing me to look at him.
He makes me watch as he puts his fingers in his mouth, licking off the wetness from between my legs. The image kick-starts my sluggish breathing into a rapid-fire pattern.
When he takes his hand out, he says, “Just as I thought.”
“What?”
“I love the taste of you.” He leans over me and slips those same two fingers into my mouth. He licked most of me clean, and I taste mostly him—his mouthwash and minty breath. Isuspect he knew I’dtastemore of him than myself.
He checks his watch. “Three more minutes.” His lips skim my neck and he whispers, “What I could do to you in that time…”
And just as he slips his tongue into my mouth, a huge crash bangs against the wall. I jump in fright, accidentally biting him.Shit.
Connor places a hand on my collar, keeping my back to the mattress while he sits up. “I’m fine,” he assures me.
But I taste the bitter iron of blood. And I know it’s his. Before I can inspect his tongue, something else slams behind us again.
I flinch, but I glance back at him. “Let me see your tongue.”
“No.” In a single word he reminds me that I can’t push him around. “And my tongue is fine. You barely sliced it.”
Good.
The next crash in the wall comes with muffled yelling.
