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This was not a thing most guys would do. This was not a thing anyone would expect a he-man gorilla like Eight to do, yet he did it enthusiastically, without being asked. Like he did it for himself as much as for her.
And he was fucking great at it. Marcella’s body was made of fire, flaring out in bright bursts from the point of his tongue.
He licked and sucked and delved until she was wild in his hands, rocking her hips, thrashing her head around, digging her nails into his arms. She wouldn’t come this way, butdamn, she got close. Then he set her back on the bed and reached to the nightstand for the condoms she’d dug out of the back of the drawer last night.
With a condom on, he lifted her legs, set them on his shoulders, and pushed himself in. Slow and steady this time, but all the way deep. Propped on his hands above her, his arms straight, his muscles mounded with tension, Eight looked down at her. Still wide-eyed, still vulnerable. He was as rocked and confused and she was.
When he moved, he kept up the slow, sensual assault, and damn if he didn’t feel different at this pace. Even through the condom she felt every inch of him, was stretched by his girth, probed by his length. She felt the ridge of his glans, the thick vein along the side of his shaft.
He’d had her at the brink before he put the condom on, and she trembled there now, but the difference in him was distracting enough to keep her suspended. Normally, she’d tell him she needed his hand on her clit, but she liked the sensation of being framed by his huge arms too much, so she put her on hand between her legs.
“Fuck, yeah,” he muttered, his voice like broken chunks of granite. “Let me see you play with yourself.”
She put her other hand between her legs, spread her folds wide, and let him watch.
It took less than a minute for her to go over, another mind-blowing climax rocketing through her, curling her body upward as he pistoned steadily into her, now grunting with each thrust, but not speeding up, riding her through it, keeping it going until she fell back to the pillows in a twitching puddle.
Eight changed his stance, came down on an elbow, forcing her legs, still hooked over his shoulders, into a burning stretch. He pushed his other hand under her ass again, and she felt a finger find its destination and push in. She groaned and writhed as that feeling lashed through her.
“Come on, baby, gimme one more,” he grunted and began to quicken his pace.
Truly, he was the best fuck of her whole damn life. Marcella put her hands between her legs again. This time, she pushed one back, hooked it around his cock where it entered and left her, and worked her clit with her other. “Come with me this time,” she said, knowing he’d hold himself off as long as he could otherwise—and he could go a long time.
She’d never asked him that before, though, and when she looked up and met his gaze, she saw the request surprised him. More than that, itmeant somethingto him.
Oh shit, what was happening?
Right now, she couldn’t give that question its due. Right now, she had triple stimulation going, and that was all she could focus on. He was moving faster now, leaving tenderness behind, grunting in that glorious, guttural, bestial way of his, and all Marcella could do was rub her clit and his cock and go along for the ride until another orgasm slammed through her, making her yell. Then Eight yelled, too, a loud, howling groan, and buried himself as deep in her as he could go before he went rigid.
When he was complete, the rigor eased off, and he dropped all his weight onto her with a pained sigh. Marcella worked her hands from between them and wrapped her arms around him.
That hadn’t been just fucking.
It had been something far more dangerous.
Now that it was over, she could properly freak the fuck out.
But the freak-out didn’t come. It felt good, lying under him, feeling his humid, spent body, the dense weight of him, the rhythmic press of his heaving breaths. Spent herself, she lay there, eyes closed, and let it feel good.
Eventually, he rose onto his elbows again. She felt his fingers at her temple, brushing her hair back. More tenderness.
“Marce—”
She put her hand over his mouth before another syllable came out. Whether he said something totally in character or something totally unexpected, whatever it was, it would change this moment in a way she wasn’t ready for. She didn’t want him to be a sarcastic asshole right now, she couldn’t deal if he turned out to be completely unaffected by this morning after all, but she couldn’t deal if he wanted to talk seriously, either. She needed to think before they tried any kind of conversation.
She shook her head.
His brow furrowed, but then he gave her a nod, and she took her hand from his mouth.
Pulling out of her with a groan, he rolled to his side and took off the condom, then rolled all the way over and dropped it in the little wastebasket under that nightstand. Marcella used the second of separation to grab her phone off the other nightstand and check the time.
Shit. Almost ten. She had to be at her mom’s at noon, and she had a couple of errands to run first.
“You got plans today, right?” Eight said, lying on his back beside her.
Ajax had told him over pizza that today was her birthday, the little shit, but that hadn’t seemed to register with him. Which was fine. She hardly needed some awkward attempt at a birthday wish from this guy. Right? Decency was not his forte.
“Yeah. Family function.”
