AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Right now, though, Marcella’s mouth on him was exactly what he needed. So he’d just have to get her off in all the other ways he could think of before he was ready to go in again.
Grabbing her head in his hands to hold her steady, he shifted, bringing his knee back off the bed to stand steady beside it. She shifted too, understanding, and set her hands on his hips, getting down to the business of head. She’d let him fuck her mouth, he knew, but for now, he stood still and let her move. With each bob on him, she took him a little deeper, until he felt the muscles in her throat working around him.
“Fuck yeah,” he muttered when her nose brushed his belly. “You feel fuckin’ great.”
One of her hands slid forward, over the top of his thigh, between his legs, and took hold of his balls. She held him firmly but not too tight. Just the way he liked, making everything else she was doing twice as intense.
Soon enough, he couldn’t stand still any longer, and he began to rock his hips. She changed position again, slightly, so it was easier for him to take over. Still holding his balls, working them in tempo with his thrusts, she started to make sexy grunts each time he thrust deep. Maybe she was so good at this, had such control over the muscles of her mouth and throat, because she was a singer. Whatever it was, nobody had ever taken him as deep as she could. Not even professionals.
“Take me deeper,” he grunted as his orgasm gained steam, and she took him deeper still. “Fuck yeah, that’s it. I love to fuck your mouth. I’m gonna get you off so hard when I’m done here you’re gonna forget your own name—fuck,fuck, Marce!”
At the exact moment he started to blow, she clamped her hand around his balls, enough to hurt—and holy shit! The sudden blast of pain through the explosion of pleasure sent him through the roof. He yelled so loud he strafed his throat.
As she swallowed what he gave her, she eased her grip, and then, as he doubled over, trying to keep his feet, she worked her way gently off his dick. As soon as she was off, he let his bum leg give out, and he dropped to the bed beside her.
“Fuck, baby,” he gasped. “You’re a goddamn genius at that.”
Laughing, she rolled to lie beside him, hooking her leg between his. “I like making you lose your shit.”
“Well, it is thoroughly lost.” He pushed gently on her chin to make her look at him, and grinned when she did. “And I am gonna get you back, until you’re begging for mercy.”
“I don’t beg.” Her smile was a challenge.
He grabbed her and rolled, putting her on her back beneath him. “We’ll see.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Marcella oozed off of Eight and dissolved into a sweaty puddle at his side. She lay on her back and stared at the ceiling, waiting for her vision to stop swirling and her lungs to start working.
Holy shit.
Beside her, his own breath coming hard and loud like a diesel engine, Eight managed a chuckle. “Goddamn, woman.”
She’d chuckle too, but it might kill her.
Eight thought their chemistry in the sack meant more than just good fucking, that they wouldn’t be so good together that way if there wasn’t something significant going on between them. Hell, maybe he was right. Because holy shit, they were good together in the sack.
He did exactly what she wanted, exactly when she wanted it. Most times, he didn’t even need to be told. But when she did tell him what she wanted, he didn’t get all up in his testosterone and feel offended or think she was bossy. He grinned and did what she wanted. Sometimes, he talked it out while he was doing it—Yeah? Like this? How about this? You want me there? Ah yeah, you do. Take me deep, baby. Take it all.Even just the memory of his gruff voice giving her what she wanted sent bolts of pleasure through her spent body.
Breathing normally again, or close enough to it, Marcella rolled to her side. She was still dripping sweat, and the sheets tangled damply around her legs, so she kicked them away. When she was ready to settle, Eight did something he’d never done before: he lifted his arm, inviting her in to cuddle.
Feeling wary and exposed, she accepted the invitation and rested her head on his chest. His arm came down, and his hand took hold of one cheek of her ass.
With his other hand, he chucked her chin gently, getting her to look up and meet his eyes. “You’re the best fuck of my life, Marce.”
For Eight, that was positively flowery romance. She leaned up and kissed him. “Ditto.”
Settling back on his chest, Marcella relaxed and let her mind roll back over the past few hours. She and Eight had decided to try to actually be together, which somehow seemed like the worst decision she’d ever made in a life full of questionable choices, and yet also seemed like the only right thing to do. Everything was an impossible contradiction with this guy.
He was an astonishingly great fuck. But he could also be a massive asshole—in fact, it was his default position.
He wanted to be a father to their son, but he’d ignored that son for an entire decade.
He said he wanted to be a good man, and she thought there was decency in him, but he was an actual murderer.
And that was the hardest thing to get her head around. The outlaw stuff, she didn’t care about, not really. She was no fan of the police, and she’d seen plenty of evidence proving that laws only serve the powerful—and the powerful weren’t held to those laws.
But Eight had killed people. Plural. Was she really bringing a man like that into her life? Into Ajax’s life?
