Fuck me, I am just… done. I’m the one who’s supposed to be teaching her, not the other way around. It’s supposed to be her breaking and bending to my will, surrendering to me, and here I am, barely keeping my shit together, a grown man, and she brings me to my knees.
“Fuck, Harley,” I breathe.
My eyes stray lower, to her spread legs beneath my t-shirt, to her juices running down her thighs, to how swollen and ripe she is. I wanted to be gentle. I wanted to fucking take my time with her.
There is no chance in hell that’s gonna happen.
Chapter Six
Harley
Something changes. The air shifts around us, shimmering with something I don’t fully understand, but I feel it.
And then I look up at Edge’s face, contorted and dark, his gaze sending a thrill of painful desire shooting through me. He’s never looked at me that way before. I have never seen him look that way, period. Like he’s a second away from losing himself and turning into a complete animal. I’ve never seen him so on edge, so dark and dangerous.
It’s wildly thrilling.
My stomach cramps up and a rush of moisture trickles down my already drenched thighs. I swallow hard, the salty, earthy taste of him still on my tongue and I love that more than anything on earth.
I watch as he carefully arranges himself, tucking his massive cock, which is still hard as a rock, the tip just as angry and red, the shaft as thick and veiny, back into his jeans. He zips them up, his eyes never leaving my face.
I expect him to toss me back onto the bed, to bury his face between my legs, like I’ve imagined him doing, my hands gripping frantically in his hair as he tastes me for the first time, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t move. Other than his ragged breaths lifting his massive shoulders and chest, Edge stands like a statue. His nostrils flare and his hands slowly fist at his sides.
Fear knifes through my chest, as brutal and destructive as if a real knife has just been plunged in there.
“Did I… I mean… did I do it wrong?”
“Wrong?” His jaw slackens in amazement as I stare up at him. “Fuck, Harley,” he curses. “Wrong? No. You didn’t do it wrong.” His nostrils flare again and his jaw tightens. His pulse leaps at his neck, the vein throbbing angrily there, against his bronzed skin. His eye slams shut, like he’s fighting for control.
I realize that’s what it is. Control. He doesn’t like when it slips. He doesn’t like feeling unguarded. It makes me feel strange and powerful that I can do this to Edge. That I can break through his armor to the softest parts below, straight to his heart.
My eyes flick to his lips when I see them move. “Trying to control myself to keep from knocking you back on that bed and fucking you so fucking hard you won’t be able to walk for weeks. Trying to stop myself, because that’s not how I want this to go. Want to be inside of you more than you can imagine, Harley. Want to fuck your mouth, your sweet cunt, your tight little ass. Want every single bit of you, but not tonight. Not fucking tonight.”
His words twist me up inside, start a fire that burns through me with brutal intensity, razing my heart and soul to the ground, birthing something new and wondrously terrifying.
“I don’t trust myself. I want tonight to be for you. I want you to learn about surrender by being the one taking the lead, you get me?”
I don’t, but I nod slowly. How can I surrender if I’m in control? He knows I don’t know anything about this, but he’snot playing games with me. I realize that all I can do is trust him, trust him to guide and teach me. The throbbing between my legs, the ache in my stomach, the burning in my limbs, all of it shreds me, transforms me, and honestly, I just want him. I want him any way he’ll take me. I just need him to banish the ache that’s been roaring inside of me, unsated, for years.
“I’m going to spread out on that bed, and you’re gonna get on my face. You’re gonna split your pretty legs and ride me and let me feast on your delicious cunt. Right now, you’re in control. You decide how much you want.”
My cheeks flush hot, scarlet I’m sure, at the mental picture he just painted in my mind. Before I can say anything, though, Edge moves with that easy grace he carries himself with, even hurting and battered. I watch him spread out on the bed, taking up most of it, even though it’s a big bed. He lays himself out and shuts his eyes. I watch his every movement, watch his lips.
“I’m waiting, darlin’. Waiting for you to sit that pretty cunt on my mouth. I’ve been waiting to taste you for months now. Been starving for you, for that first, sweet taste of your ambrosia.”
My god. I never imagined that he’d say such dirty things to me. His words hit me like a hot caress, searing away the light and the innocent parts of me, cutting straight to the darkest parts below. A warm rush trickles down my thighs and Edge’s lips quirk up, like he knows exactly what his filthy words are doing to me.
“I might fall asleep here though, if you take any longer.”
A war is waging inside of me. Fighting. The baser side wins. I want this more than I care about being shy or embarrassed or how silly I might look doing it. It overrules my doubts, doubts that Edge might not like me, how I taste, how I look…
I turn and crawl up the bed beside Edge’s prone form. He watches me with the intensity of a predator.
“Fucking starving for you. You gonna deny me?” he asks, when I hesitate.
He doesn’t move when I position myself over his chest, even though the flames burning in his gaze bank higher. He lets me arrange myself over him, and even though my body burns hot with embarrassment and uncertainty, he doesn’t move. He lets me do it, lets me come to him, lets me give myself up this way, and I understand a little of what he meant when he said that I’d find surrender in control.
He stares up at me, somehow all power and raw warrior below me. His hands come up to grip my thighs, big strong calloused fingers smoothing over my sensitive, heated skin. He lets out a groan that rumbles through his entire body like dense, low thunder, when his fingers sweep up to the slick moisture trailing down my thighs.
