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Gauntlet dropped.
I crane an eyebrow. He rolls to one side and props his head on his hand like he’s in no hurry to persuade me. My eyes wander to his naked chest and torso, to his cock, at a healthy half-mast between his legs. I’ll show him a thing or two about control.
I roll over and kiss his mouth, taking my time. His hands move to my back, but he doesn’t hold me in place. His beard tickles my lips as I lick to his throat. As I suckle his pulse point. It doesn’t take long for him to wind a fist into my hair. I kiss my way down his chest, to his stomach, and earn a tug. Just enough to let me know he’s steering. I whimper with pleasure. I am within sucking distance of his incredible thickness when he pulls my head up. A second later, I’m flat on my back.
“Nice try,” he praises, on top now. “My turn.” He slides down my body the same way I did his, only he stops at my nipples, distracting me for way too long. Then he’s circling my belly button with his tongue, freeing his hand of my hair to take hold of my thighs.
Like every time I’ve been naked with him, I cede control. He laps at my folds, inserts one finger and then two, while I lift my feet to his shoulders. One of his hands comes up to pinch my nipple as he continues to pay delicious attention to my body. Whatever argument or challenge I fought to win moments ago is forgotten. I whisper his name, interspersed with the “yes, please” I wouldn’t allow myself to say earlier. My hips buck when he hits that perfect spot. I come on his fingers not long after he starts.
A wash of color bursts behind my closed eyelids as my entire body sizzles and pops like oil in a hot pan. I can’t open my eyelids, as if they’re weighed down by sandbags. His arm loops my back, and he flips me. Now I’m dead weight, flat on my stomach.
Finally, I pry my eyes open and peek through a curtain of my hair. He drags my hips back, my ass colliding with his muscular thighs.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I ask, hoarse.
“You.”
Using what little strength remains, I push onto my hands and knees and back into his thighs. I collide with his rock-hard erection as it slides through my wet folds. He twists my hair into a long rope and tosses it over my shoulder.
His thumbs coast over my ass before his fingers tickle along my seam. Then he’s in, his cock sinking deep as he draws a long, sated moan from my throat.
One powerful thrust, and I’m unable to hold in my reaction. A loud, approving “Oh!” escapes my lips. He doesn’t let up, slamming into me with enough force to push my breath from my lungs. Still tingling from my last orgasm, I shout—yes, shout—his name. Encouraged, he picks up speed.
I continue praising him as another orgasm slams into me. I lose the strength in my arms and collapse facedown on the pillow. Fingers gripping my hips, his release takes him a moment later. He spills inside of me, each pump shoving me higher on the bed until the pillow is under my chest instead of my cheek. I laugh, effervescent and damned satisfied as waves of electricity buzz along my limbs.
He folds over me, his breathing not yet regulated. His chest warms my back, reminding me of that first time over the kitchen counter, when he took me under his control, and I was more than willing to let him do whatever he wanted.
He shoves my hair aside, since it’s rearranged itself of its own free will, and kisses my neck. “What you do to me, Wildflower,” he growls into my ear before pulling out and rolling to his back.
My hips sink to the bed. I have to make a pitstop in the bathroom, but what I wouldn’t give to fall into a deep sleep right where I am, coasting to dreamland on a wave of spent hormones.
“I like that smile.” He leans over and kisses my mouth. “Clean up. Come back.” He delivers a sharp, fast slap to my ass, and my head snaps up.
“Hey!”
He grins. I touch the corner of his bearded smile with one finger. “Why don’t you smile more?”
“Gotta keep my guard up. People want things from me.”
“Spine-exploding orgasms?” I guess.
“Money. Favors. Not the sexual kind, sadly.”
“I have a hard time believing that. You’re very, very good.” It’s my parting line. I go to the bathroom and then return and start collecting my clothes. He pokes the bed next to where he’s lying.
“Ass in here,” he commands.
“Sorry, Kingpin. I have to go.”
“Don’t make me bring you back here. I’m very convincing when I need to be.” He pushes up onto one elbow, looking like the best gift I’ve ever unwrapped. All that golden skin and taut muscle, manly hair, and sparkling green eyes. “As you keep reminding me.”
“Do I?”
“Afraid I’ll win you over? Make you want to stay?”
I blink, not knowing how to respond. Maybe because he’s right.
“Ass. In. Bed.” He pokes the rumpled sheets with his pointer finger as he says each word.
