Page 36 of Bullets & Bonfires


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Dropping down to her elbows, she does exactly as I ask. Even gives me an extra wiggle. “Show off.”

After whipping off my T-shirt, I shove my shorts down enough to free my cock.

“Ready for me.”

It’s more of a statement than a question. She answers by pushing back, silently begging me to fill her.

I don’t take it slow this time. I thrust into her fast and hard. She lets out a sharp scream that turns into a moan as I draw back. “Too much?”

“No. Keep going. Just like that.”

Like I’m going to say no.

Liam digs his fingers into my hips, pounding into me at a hard, steady pace.

Underneath us, the blanket slips on the floor, pushing me away.

He pulls me right back.

“Liam.” I gasp and dig my fingers into the blanket.

“Fuck.” He pulls out, leaving me empty and irritated.

“What are you doing?”

His hand squeezes my ass cheek in a quick, affectionate way. “Give me a second. Stay like that, though. I like the view.”

“Deviant.”

He huffs out a laugh while tugging off my shoes and pulling my pants all the way off. His body heat disappears from behind me, and I turn my head.

“Come here,” he beckons, sitting on the couch and patting his leg.

Slowly, I kneel up to face him. I must seem unsure or hesitant, because he reaches out and takes my hands.

Confronted by all his male beauty in the middle of the living room, I stop and stare.

And stare.

“You’re magnificent.”

“So are you. Now come here. I’ve been thinking about this nonstop since the other night.”

Heat burns my skin and I drop my gaze.

“Hey, I meant it in a good way. In an I-wish-I-never-opened-my-mouth-and-fucked-it-up way.”

I take his hand and he pulls me closer. “Climb on up.”

“What are you, a carnival ride?” I tease to wash away any unpleasantness from the other night.

“Yeah. Best one you’re ever going to have.”

Last one too.

But I keep that thought to myself.

“Arrogant much?” I joke instead.

He grins and rubs one hand up and down his cock, while gripping my hip with the other.

“That’s it,” he whispers as I lower myself.

Both of us gasp when I ease down. All the way down. My nails dig into his shoulders and I squeeze my eyes shut.

“Okay?” he asks.

“Good.”

He moves his hips from side to side, helping me adjust. “Bree, look at me.”

His hand cups my cheek, and for the longest time, he stares into my eyes. He slides his hand into my hair and pulls me to him for a kiss. I move up and down and he groans into my mouth. “That’s good,” he mumbles against my lips.

“You like that?” I ask, doing it again.

“Fuck, yes. Keep going.”

We find a rhythm and keep moving together. His eyes never leave mine until he places one hand between my breasts. “Lean back. Hands on my knees. Want to see all of you.” The clipped directions turn me on even more, and I immediately do as he asks.

“Beautiful.” His hands are everywhere, cupping my breasts, thumbs brushing over my nipples, running up my legs and up over my back.

My orgasm builds with breathtaking intensity and I can’t keep my eyes open any longer.

“That’s right,” he whispers. “Come for me.”

I do. Hard. It’s intense. Pleasure and relief mix together. My fingers dig into his arms, holding on for dear life. It lasts for so long, I lose track of everything else except how good we feel together.

“Beautiful, beautiful,” he murmurs over and over. I fall forward, burying my face against his neck and his arms wrap around me, holding me tight while he pounds up into me.

“Hang in there, Bree.”

My teeth sink into his shoulder and he groans, holding me even tighter. I shudder from another wave of pleasure washing over me.

He lets out a number of breathless curses, and I pick my head up. His fingers twist in my hair, pulling me closer, swallowing down my cries with a kiss. He moans into my mouth and stills. His hands clamp down on my hips, holding me tight to him while the warm rush fills me.

“Come here,” he mumbles. “Kiss me.”

We trade a few soft kisses before he lifts me off him. “I can’t straighten my legs.” A wobbly giggle bursts out of me as he massages my thighs. “Oh my God. This is what it means to be fucked so hard you can’t walk straight.” More giggles spill out of me.

Loud rumbling laughter comes from behind me, right before he stands and carries me off into the bathroom, setting me on the counter.

“I wish we could stay at my place,” he says while adjusting the shower. “You’re brother’s going to kill me.”

“Sorry.”

“Hey. I didn’t say that to make you feel bad.”

“I know.”

He brushes my sweaty hair back from my face.

“Do you?”

“Can we not talk about my brother right now?”

Instead of answering, he sets two towels on the closed toilet seat. “It’s hard when I’m in his house and he doesn’t know about us.”

“You’ve never told him how you felt?”

Presumptuous much?

“I mean, back then. That you might have been interested in me…in us…dating or whatever?”

The serious expression on his face stops my babbling.

“I was way more than interested in you.” He takes my hand and leads us into the shower stall. “But, no we never talked about it. He seemed to have such a bad reaction, and you left soon after, that I didn’t see the point. I just tried to forget. Convince myself it was nothing.”

As the warm water rains down over both of us, I wrap my arms around him and lay my cheek against his chest. After a second, his arms band around me, pulling me tighter. “I really screwed up,” I mumble.

“No, you didn’t. You were young—”

I pull back and the regret in his eyes weighs me down. The last thing I want to do is keep hurting each other with the past. “We were both young. Boys mature slower than girls, you know.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, I’ve heard that.”

“Trust me. I’m a professional. I know what I’m talking about.”

His strong hands on my shoulders turn me to face the water and he pours shower gel into his hands, working it into a lather before carefully soaping every inch of me.

“Liam?”

“Yes?”

“Can we forget about that night? I forgive you and I hope you can forgive me.”

“God, Bree,” he breaths against my ear. “There’s nothing to forgive you for.”

“Well, pretend there is. Can we let go of that night?”

“Yes.” He presses a kiss to my shoulder, trailing his lips to my neck where he leaves one more kiss before speaking. “I’ll let go of the bad stuff that happened after. But that was the sweetest kiss I’d ever had until about twenty-four hours ago.”

“Me too.”

“I’ll never let go of that kiss.”

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