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He put his cock against my slit and lazily rubbed it against me, driving me wild. When he put the tip inside me, I arched against him, wanting him to claim me in spite of my soreness. I could feel how wet I was, drenching the tip of him. He grunted, tensing his hips, not entering me.
“Gabe.” I grabbed his ass, digging my nails into him. “Please.”
His eyes burned into mine. “Not unless you say it.”
He was so close to entering me, to bringing me that fullness again. I wanted him. I wanted him so badly, and in so many different ways, that my head hurt. And what he was saying, that he wanted me to be his and only his, struck a chord deep inside me. I wanted that to be true.
He thrust into me a little, and I cried out in relief. Then he pulled out immediately. He was a better negotiator than I’d given him credit for.
“You’re the only one. I promise. I only want you.” I said it desperately, all in a rush, and I irrevocably meant it. The little beasts of feelings were rattling their cages, ready to bust loose. I felt my cheeks blush furiously as his eyes bore into mine, his cock so, so close. “Only your hands, your mouth.” I leaned up and kissed him tenderly, letting my tongue connect with his.
When I pulled back, my cheeks were flaming. “Only your…cock.”
“Good girl.” He kissed me tenderly, but then he pushed me back onto the bed and lifted my leg again, opening me up. His crown pulsed at my opening, making me wild for him. “As your reward, I’m going to give you what you want.” Then he entered me to his hilt, all at once.
My body stretched to accommodate his. My eyes rolled back in my head as he started to drive into me deeply, claiming me. He was less tentative this time, more sure that my body was ready for him, and I relished his rough edges. Waves of pleasure crashed over me as he mercilessly thrust, giving me just what I wanted, what I hadn’t even known I’d wanted until tonight.
“I feel like your body was made for me.” He held my hips down as he delved into me, deeper and deeper. Time stopped for me as I gave myself over to the sensation of being fucked, hard. His body glistened with sweat, and I ran my hands over his muscles, greedy for every touch, every sensation. I cried out, close to the edge again.
He was deep inside me. He kept his hands on my hips and kept mercilessly thrusting. Our bodies crashed together and my vision blurred. I was coming again, my body’s powerful response to his overtaking me. I dragged my nails down his back.
When he was satisfied I’d orgasmed, he started to come. He spent himself into me, still holding my hips. I clenched around him, spiraling again, as he grunted and filled me completely.
Our orgasms shook the bed.
There was no more talking after that. I could barely think. It was only later, as I drifted off to sleep in his arms, that one stray thought appeared. Once I take you, you might not want me to let you go.
Of course, he was right. It was then that I realized I might really be fucked…in more ways than one.
I woke up to the sun blazing through the windows, Gabe’s arms wrapped around me.
He was asleep. The sun played off his hair, glinting against the shiny darkness of it. I smiled at him as he slept, at his warmth, at his gorgeous face. I blushed as memories of the previous night came back. I tentatively ran my hands over my body, and I felt the soreness, coupled with a looseness and a sense of…well-being I’d never experienced before.
I’d finally used my body the way nature had intended. And it had been a beautiful, mind-blowing, extraordinary experience. I looked at Gabe’s handsome face again. Warmth bloomed in my chest.
Then I remembered the rest of last night—that Clive Warren was sharing my specs with someone who was trying to copy my prototype.
Cursing, I got up, careful not to wake Gabe. I picked his T-shirt up off the floor and pulled it on, inhaling the scent of him, aching for him…and not just his big, sexy body. All of him. I cursed again. My hormones and my feelings were running wild.
Just perfect.
I headed out quietly to the front of the house and fumbled through my bag for my phone. I had six missed text messages—five from Leo and one from Hannah.
I read Hannah’s first, just to make sure she was okay. Where the hell are you?
At Gabe’s, I texted back. Am fine. For now. I was fine for now.
I took a deep breath and opened up Leo’s messages.
I’m finding some fucked-up shit.
Another email to Clive from that source.
I’m trying to figure out who.
Call me when you get this.
There’s something else—don’t want to text.
