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“You like this?” She was surprised. More than surprised, actually.
She rose on him again, watching him grimace as her flesh gripped him, suckled his straining cock.
“No, baby. I don’t like this. I fucking love the hell out of it.” His teeth were clenched hard, the muscles of his neck and shoulders bulging as he fought for control. “You’re killing me with pleasure, and I promise you, I’m a willing damned sacrifice.”
His voice was strained, gasping.
She lowered herself again, a keening wail of excruciating sensation had her nails digging into his hard chest muscles. His hands flexed on her hips, his thighs bunched, lifted, driving his flesh deeper, harder inside her.
“Sarah, baby,” he gasped. “Find that fucking rhythm soon, sugar, before you kill us both.”
She lowered her lids, fighting the need to ride him hard now. Her lips lifted.
“You don’t like this?” she asked him, her voice soft, wondering as she watched him.
“Hell no,” he growled. “Oh shit, Sarah.” She rolled her hips above him, moving languorously as she twisted on the thick intrusion of his cock.
Her stomach clenched, her womb vibrated with shudders of impending orgasm.
“You sure you don’t like it?” she panted, rising up again.
He didn’t give her a chance to torment him further. With a lurch of his hips, a swift motion of his hands on hers, he drove her body onto his, his cock like a battering ram, tearing through her with such a mind numbing intensity of pleasure that she exploded the minute it struck the back of her throbbing pussy.
She screamed, jerked and began to thrust against him mindlessly as she felt his cock explode, spewing his seed deep, deep inside her body, flooding her with the hot release as his arms wrapped around her, dragging her to his heaving chest.
“God. Sarah.” His voice was tortured, emotion spilling through it as his arms spasmed around her body.
Her body continued to tremble, shudder. Small explosions shaking through her as she fought for a measure of control now. It was the most sensual, erotic experience of her life. She was still gasping for breath, still enjoying the small, brutal pulses of orgasmic delight.
Minutes, hours, days later, he shifted her body and allowed her to collapse beside him once again.
“Let me stay and I’ll let you ride my cock again first thing in the morning,” he bargained with a drowsy sigh.
“Get dressed, cowboy.” She yawned, tucking her head more comfortably against the couch cushions. “You’re out of here until I personally call you and ask you to return.”
He sighed deeply.
“Sarah, you forget to call and I’ll tan your hide when I get you naked again,” he promised her, his threat followed by a slow caress over her rounded buttocks.
“I promise. I’ll call, Brock.” She smiled lazily. “Now go home.”
He grunted with grouchy emphasis and rolled until he could find a sitting position.
“Never seen the like, Sarah. Running me off this way.” He snagged his pants from the floor and began to drag them over his legs.
Sarah sat up on the couch, pulling the afghan from the back and wrapping it around her shoulders. Brock dressed in silence, his expression quiet now, thoughtful. When he had his shirt buttoned over his broad chest, he turned to her, watching her out of somber, dark eyes.
“You going to be okay?” He touched her cheek gently. “Don’t worry over the things from the past, Sarah,” he whispered of his abuse. “It’s over.”
Sarah took a hard breath.
“It won’t be over until you can live with it normally, Brock,” she told him gently. “Until then, the bastard has won. Because he’s stolen that from you.”
Brock shrugged. “We survived. We’re sane. He’s dead. That counts as winning to me.”
He rose to his feet, then pulled her up behind him.
“Go onto bed. I’ll lock up as I leave.” He nodded to the stairs. “Don’t wait too long to call me, Sarah. My patience isn’t at its best these days.”
