Page 121 of In Your Wake

“Too much?” I ask, deviously. I don’t want to hurt him, but I want to be rough. To see how far I can push him because I know he’s the one person who’ll let me push.

Through his hooded eyes, he looks up at me, giving an infinitesimal shake of his head.

“Not even a little.”

But then a deep frown hardens his expression. He frames my face with his hand. “I don’t have a condom.”

Smiling, I turn and kiss his palm. “It’s okay, I’m on the pill and healthy as a horse. And as you know, I haven’t had sex in ages.” I grab his neck with my free hand. His pulse races beneath my thumb. I arch my eyebrow. “Should I be worried about anything?”

“Injured hockey player, remember? Countless checkups and tests. I’m clean.”

“That’s settled then.”

With my legs trapped between the armrests and his thighs, I push myself up, hovering over the tip of his swollen flesh. Our gazes lock for what’s only a few seconds, but feels like an eternity.

“Don’t take it easy on me,” he says, as if reading my mind, and tugs my underwear out of the way. It’s such an intimate move, my breath catches in my throat.

I run his cock along my core, rocking my hips, coating him in my arousal, then lightly tickle my clit with his tip. His eyes drift shut, and he bites down on his lip, letting out a pained groan.

“I wonder how long I could keep this going,” I whisper with a coy smile.

A deep growl vibrates up his throat. He grips my hips, his fingertips digging into my flesh through the dress.

“Stop being a fucking tease, Maxine.”

Taking over, he slips his hand between us, grabs his cock and lines himself up. Then he thrusts, crashing into me with such force that it fractures me into a million tiny pieces. The sudden fullness, the dull twinge deep inside soon fades, as my tight, wet pussy welcomes the intrusion.

I grip his shoulders, dig my fingers into them, and slide up and down his shaft. My muscles clench around him, my core is so hot, soaked and needy, I can’t for the life of me remember why I ever resisted this. Why we haven’t been doing this all along? The lingering heartbreak that’s been hiding in my soul since Mitchell showed up in Oakwhite vanishes as I accept the truth that’s always been there.

The hurt? Disappearing.

My mistakes? Forgotten.

The regrets hovering over me like a dark rain cloud? Gone.

He hisses, dropping his head back. I bunch up my skirt at my waist, glancing down to where our bodies connect and sink down onto him, to the hilt. I’m so tight, clenching and milking him, and I don’t stop slamming down onto his lap until he shudders and pulls himself out, coming onto his belly with a long, wailing groan. He then hurriedly brings his hand to my pussy, stroking my clit, sucking on my nipples through the fabric of my dress.

I long for him to bite me. To make me burn. I want him to rip this stupid peach dress off and slam me into a wall. I don’t know where this insane need for pain comes from, but it’s all I can think of.

“Hurt me,” I say, my voice so dark it’s unrecognizable.

Frowning, he meets my deadly serious gaze. I tug the neckline of my dress beneath my breasts. His fingers pick up the pace, while he takes my nipple into his mouth once again, offering it a gentle lick before nipping down on the perked flesh.

I release a throaty moan. “More.”

He continues to assault my nipples, my skin, combining bites with gentle kisses, covering every hurt with comfort, as if knowing precisely what I need.

His thumb circles my clit while his mouth devours my nipples, and I welcome my orgasm with a shuddering mix of whimpers and laughter, unable to focus on anything but the exhilarating thrill cascading through my veins and muscles.

Elated, I drop my head to his shoulder and focus on the gentle rise and fall of his breathing. The delicate caress of his bristly jaw against my forehead.

“Do you think you’ll grow it back?” I ask, stroking his cheek.

He chuckles. “Why? Do you think I should?”

I nod but don’t lift my head.

“Didn’t you say I looked bad with a beard?”