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Donovan angled deep, grinding against a particular spot and eliciting an altogether new sensation. Oh. Oh. A loud moan rattled through her and words tumbled out of her mouth.
It sounded like nonsense to her ears, but Donovan groaned in appreciation. “Fuck yes, I want your cunt. It’s all mine tonight. You have no idea what it does to me to hear you talk like that.”
Had she said the filthy stuff out loud? She figured she must’ve because Donovan redoubled his efforts on her clit and thrust high and hard in her. Her ears started to buzz and her breath wheezed out of her like her lungs had lost half their capacity.
“You’re so tight and hot around me. You’re clenching so hard.” He rolled her clit between his fingertips. “Fucking take what you want. Come around my cock.”
She didn’t have any choice at this point whether he commanded it or not. She was glazed with sweat, her thighs slick with arousal, and her body screaming for release. His cock filling her and his fingers pinching her clit were too much. Everything inside her seemed to explode at once. Her arms jerked above her, rattling the hangers, and she pushed up on her toes, trying both to grab the release and run from it. It felt scary big, almost like she wouldn’t be able to take it standing up.
Then it crashed over her in thick, drowning waves. She lost her breath, and her body arched as the force of it rocketed through her. More dirty words tumbled out of her. Prayers. They were dirty prayers. For Donovan to please, please, please. To yes, God, yes. To help her. That she was falling.
But he held her up and never broke stride as he rode her orgasm with her, his own breaths harsh and strained behind her. Then when she was cresting, flying in the pleasure, he started telling her how beautiful she was, how sexy, how perfect. That’s when he fell in with her. He sped up and buried deep, swelling inside her with steel heat, and his noises changed. Donovan falling apart. Then he was coming long and hot inside her, his sounds like balm to her zapped senses.
She closed her eyes, letting her head sag against the wall, and immersed herself in the sensation of him coming, of losing himself to her. He’d used a condom, but in her mind’s eye she let herself imagine his release mingling with hers, the evidence of their shared arousal painting her flesh as he slowly eased out of her.
When he’d fully slid out, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pressed his face to her shoulder. “Christ. That was . . . I . . . Damn . . .”
He was panting against her and obviously as blitzed as she was. That made her smile. Mr. Orgasm Whisperer had gone dumb. Not that she could say much more than, “I concur.”
He chuckled against her, his breath cool on her heated skin. “Two in two doctors agree.”
She smiled at that. “Empirically verified that it was great, then.”
He pressed a kiss to her shoulder then untied her from the clothes rod. He rubbed the tingles from her arms and turned her around. When she faced him, she was hit with the impact of him all over again. He’d pulled off the tie and his shirt was hanging open, chest glistening with sweat and slacks unbuttoned. But his eyes, oh, the eyes. He was looking at her like she was the most precious thing in the world. Like she was something to him.
She could get addicted to that look. To him.
No.
She couldn’t. Not if she had any good sense.
But before she could pull her gaze away, get herself back together, he kissed her.
And she forgot she was supposed to be careful.
28
“I can’t believe I’m up this late on a school night.”
Donovan smirked. “I told you I was a bad influence.”
“You totally are.” Marin was sitting on his kitchen island cross-legged, wearing only his button-down, and eating watermelon in the moonlight. She licked the side of her hand as a particularly juicy piece got the best of her. In some ways, she looked childlike with her messy hair and his oversized shirt. In every other way, she was the sexiest damn thing Donovan had ever seen.
Almost a week of not having her in his bed had been way too long. When she’d left the morning after their role-play in the club, he’d wanted to call her right back inside, had wanted to spend a slow, lazy Sunday with her. But that knee-jerk reaction had scared the hell out of him. That need to simply hang out with her. He didn’t need. Not like that. So he’d let her go and then had volunteered for on-call duty for most of the week. But it hadn’t done any good. The need had only gotten bigger, more insistent, an addiction knocking at his door, calling to him, until every thought had been about her and what had happened Saturday night.
Their interlude in the closet hadn’t been planned. Usually he was one to have something in mind before starting, and he had come into the house that night with a plan. Plans were good. Predictable. But then it’d gotten all shot to hell when he’d grabbed her and she’d fought back. He’d never expected her to go there and definitely not to trust him so wholeheartedly.
And he could tell she hadn’t been playing along for his benefit. She’d wanted that edge of danger for herself and believed he’d keep her safe. That trust had been a potent aphrodisiac. Then when he’d touched her, he’d nearly lost all composure. She’d been more than turned on. Everything was so slick and hot. Like she was dying for him. And fuck if she hadn’t been wearing his boots. He rarely wore the things anymore. He’d left Texas behind in a lot of ways. But he’d never be able to look at them the same way again. Not after seeing Marin wearing them while bare naked and tied to his closet rail. Those boots may get bronzed and put on his mantel.
Or he’d save them for her to wear again.
Because despite how bad of an idea this was, he’d known there would be an again. He’d known it the minute they’d walked into work on Monday morning. His chest had swelled with this foreign sense of joy at just seeing her there. Then, she’d given him this look, this look that said she was happy to see him, that she’d been waiting to see him, and that now her day was better because of it. That look thrilled him. And terrified
him. Because it was one that made him want to be worthy of it, to be different than he was, to be able to give her more than a few weeks of X-rated role-plays. To be that guy who’d keep that smile on her face. But he knew better than to believe he was capable of that. He didn’t know how to keep a smile on his own face much less someone else’s.
He’d realized then that the thirty-day limit didn’t protect him. It protected her. He wasn’t going to be able to quit Marin Rush. When their time was up, he had to trust she’d quit him. Because otherwise, he’d just keep extending it, sucking up all that light from her until he dragged her down when he worked obsessively or hit a rough spot or the darkness washed over him again. She deserved more that that. She’d already been through enough.
But until then, he was going to give her everything he had. He’d learned that joy in life had a very quick expiration date. So he intended to make the most of every second of this time with Marin. He would go in without armor this time. No games. No filters. Just the two of them riding this wave together until it inevitably crashed ashore.
