Tate is silent as he stares down at me. Such ferocity in his eyes.
“You won’t regret it, I promise.”
“We’ll see.” I pull his lips to mine. I don’t want to talk anymore. I don’t want to think. I just want Tate. For the few more short hours that it will be dark outside, and while there are no responsibilities sitting on my lap, I just want Tate.
I climb on top of him, deepening the kiss. He groans with approval. I love it when he does that. He sounds so fucking primal and male. It turns up my desire.
He runs his hands all over my body, over my thighs, my hips, and up my sides. His touch is so powerful. Strong and sure. He massages my breasts and strums my nipples, forcing them to become hard. The sensation feeds my need like flames to a fire.
“Make me wet,” I hum seductively in his ear.
He lifts his hand and slides two fingers into my mouth. I suck and lick, making sure they’re slick with saliva. More male sounds vibrate from Tate, the ones I love to hear.
Once his fingers are saturated, he reaches down between our bodies and strokes my clit. I moan on contact, the nerves lighting up and tingling the sensitive flesh.
Tate never takes his eyes off me as I grind against his hand, my pussy becoming dewy, then slippery, then soaking wet.
The feel of his fingers may have woken my arousal, but it’s not enough. I want more. I want all of it. All of him, buried deep inside me.
I stroke his rigid erection, squeezing with needful force. He groans again, lifting his hips with rapture.
“You’re fucking touch is fire.” He pulls my face down with force and delivers a brutal kiss. Our tongues and lips smash together, starving for each other. Consuming each other, challenging each other. Our desire is equally matched, the two of us racing up a mountainside just so we can swan dive off the peak.
I guide the head of Tate’s cock into my entrance and slowly, painstakingly sink down on top of him. We both rumble like wild cats, the prolonged pleasure tearing us apart piece by crumbling piece.
Tate fills and stretches me completely, the walls of my insides clamping down and exploiting his rock-like length.
Sinking my nails into his chest, I ride him with reckless abandon, banishing the fragments of the nightmare left lingering.
We fade into each other, consumed by the carnal cravings we’re both succumbing to. Tate massages my breasts, hoisting himself up on his elbows to taste the luscious points my nipples have become. My core burns from the friction of our bodies, and my clit aches with insatiable need. The sounds we emit are primal and animalistic, the two of us reduced to only our primitive instincts.
That euphoric sensation grabs hold. My mind is in tatters as my orgasm speeds nearer.
“I’m gonna come, you’re going to make me come so hard,” I force the words out, pulling on his hair.
“All fucking over me, baby.” Tate grinds his hips and holds on to me tight. “I’ll be right behind you.”
It’s only a second later that my arousal unleashes. My whole body stiff and rigid, shaking with sensation, leaving me imprisoned in a slave-like surrender.
Tate mimics my release, his pelvis locked beneath me, his cock throbbing inside me. When I collapse on top of him, he secures his hand around the back of my neck and bites my flesh as the aftershocks of his orgasm continue to torment him.
His chest rumbles with a low, deep sound once he is sated. Then he kisses me with a manic euphoria that has me melting into his naked body. Has me yielding and succumbing. Has me unfolding and exposed.
For the first time in years, I want to lay in a man's arms. For the first time in years, I feel safe in a man’s arms.
“I think I might be in trouble.” Tate locks me against his chest.
“In trouble how?” I peer up at him, suddenly drowsy.
“Woman,” he drawls, “if I don’t have you, I’ve got nuthin’.”
“One night together and you’re hooked?” I laugh.
“I was hooked the moment I met you. I’m bonked and bled out now.”
“I think that’s the sexiest thing a man has ever said to me.” I laugh harder.
“I’m known to be sexy and a sweet damn talker.” He laughs right along with me.
