Page 49
He grinds against me and I gasp as I hook a leg behind his thigh to give him better access, which he ruthlessly exploits but I still need more. The thump of my pulse, the tremble of my hands, that fever in my blood almost at boiling point now,demands more. I want to feel the hard steel of his cock in my palms and thrusting deep inside me.
His absence has unbalanced me in ways I didn’t realise until I saw him just now and I want to ground myself in him. Feel his possession.
I want to feel… completed. I want him to feel completed, too.
My hand slides to his waist, to the button of his jeans, fingers fumbling as they reef it open and pull down the tab of the zip. They slip beneath the band of his underwear and wrap around his solid girth, and my whole body sighs at the feel of it.
This. Mine. Danny.
He cries out, his mouth tearing away, pressing into the side of my neck, his whiskers prickling deliciously at my skin. I fist him, stroking from the root to the tip, and he groans so gutturally I feel it as a rumble through the earth beneath my feet.
It’s subterranean. A fault line quivering.
As if the intimate clutch of my hand has broken the seal, Danny is no longer content to squeeze and stroke. With his lips a brand at my neck, he plucks at my shirt, pulling it up and off, his fingers immediately reefing down the cups of my bra before making short work of the back clasp.
His lips move south, his scruff an erotic scrape, his mouth hot as he sucks on an achingly stiff nipple. I gasp, spearing the fingers of my spare hand into his nape. His teeth graze the sensitive tip and it sparks like an electric shock. I moan as it ripples across my flesh, his mouth transferring to the other side, hands moving relentlessly down, finding the waistband of my very sensible work trousers and making short work of the fastenings.
‘Off,’ he mutters around my nipple, hot hair puffing on the wet aureole as his hands peel both trousers and underwear down to my thighs.
I take over as his fingers return to more interesting tasks, wriggling out of the fabric and my shoes as they taunt the aching tightness of a nipple and slide between my legs. I buck and moan his name as he so deftly finds my clit. ‘Danny.’
His breathing is heavy as he groans in response. ‘Fuuuuck. You’re so wet,’ he mumbles into my neck. ‘Need you.’
Need. That word is like an accelerant to the passion blazing between us. That Danny wants me has never been in dispute. That he needs me? That’s a whole other ballgame. It implies lack of control. Something that cannot be explained or contained – it just is.
‘Condom,’ I pant as I double fist his cock, my thumbs smearing the liquid beading from the slit over the taut flushed dome of his head. I need him too, despite all the reasons why I shouldn’t that percolate through my brain on the regular. I need him more than oxygen. I need him more than any bodily sustenance.
I need him beyond reason.
So much so I am fully naked again while he is mostly still clothed and guiding his cock towards my centre, greedy, even without the requested condom.
Thankfully, though, the mention of protection – or maybe something else – has roused him from our thrall and he pulls back, the harsh sound of our combined laboured breathing the only noise in the entire apartment.
His gaze rakes over me. My hair half out of its confines from the thrust of his fingers, my mouth swollen from his kisses, my nipples wet and taut from his attention, my hands circling his cock that is jammed between us.
‘Fuck.’ He shakes his head, his voice full of gravel. ‘I think I must be a Neanderthal because the way I’ve marked you makes me want to beat my chest.’
I glance down to see the abraded areas of skin on my chest and around my nipples where his whiskers have scratched me up, and hell if I don’t want to roll my back and preen under his approval. I suppose I should reject the entire notion of being marked by a man, but the streak of possession in his tone has me going full cavewoman.
‘So why are you stopping?’ I ask as my gaze drops to my hands.
He follows, and I perform a slow, deliberate up and down as he watches, his eyelids fluttering closed briefly as I complete the manoeuvre before they open again. ‘I want to show you something first.’
He kisses me hard and quick as his palms slide over my ass to grasp the underside as he lifts me up like I weigh nothing at all. His hands are firm under the tops of my thighs, my legs automatically parting to grip either side of his hips, his cock perilously close to my entrance as it slides along my folds.
‘Hold on tight,’ he whispers into my ear.
I squeak a little as he takes off, my hands clutching around his neck as he strides through his apartment. Laughing at his skill, he cuts me off with his mouth and I moan and cling even more as he walks blindly on, his lips plundering mine, navigating the landmarks of his space without bumping into a single one.
The thickness of his erection is an erotic tease with every footfall, and I squirm against him to increase the delicious friction until he finally draws to a halt. My eyes flutter open as he pulls out of the kiss. His slumberous gaze locks on mine, his mouth wet, and my internal muscles turn to warm jello as he looks at me with frank possession.
With a smile, he eases his hands away and slowly lowers me. I shiver as his cock slips between my folds, teasing my hard, swollen clit, then drags along my belly before my feet hitthe floor, which crinkles a little underfoot. There’s something odd about that, but pleasure ripples through the muscles slung between my hips and then the mattress hits me behind the knees, so I don’t pay it any heed.
He flattens his palm against my chest. ‘Timber,’ he murmurs, blue eyes dancing.
I smile as he increases the pressure gently on my sternum. Playing along, I fall back against the mattress. Which also… crinkles. Like the duvet is made of wrinkled paper. Taken out of the moment, I glance either side of me. A bedside lamp throws some light across the cover, and I frown.
Is that… money?
