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My back arches as I buck against his hold on me. “Let me go,” I snarl, baring my teeth.
Herc chuckles, his nose and lips brushing the shell of my ear. He doesn’t say any words; he doesn’t have to.
We know these roles too well. He’s the predator and I’m the prey. I beg for mercy, buck, writhe, and scream. He shows no emotion other than bold-faced, ruthless hunger.
He’s back. My heart stutters with joy. My Herc is back.
His thick fingertips dig into the outside of my thigh and drag upward, my skirt riding up. The familiar span of Herc’s hand over my skin feels like the lights coming on inside a dark, dusty room. He feels wonderful like this. I can breathe again.
A raised, gnarled root presses into my lower back painfully. I welcome any feeling at all, including pain. I’m alive.
Slowly, two of Herc’s fingers snag the waistband of my panties, and he’s already trying to shove them down to my knees.
“Oh, you want that already,” I laugh, wriggling. I’m going nowhere; I’m still out of breath from the chase.
Herc growls on my neck, making my pussy weep for him. Fabric tears, and my stretchy lace underwear is destroyed.
Herc shoves his hand between my legs. “You should talk,” he rasps, gliding through my wetness so firmly that I can hear it. “Look at you. Put up a fight much longer, and you’ll come before I’m ready for you to come.” He drags one wet finger from my cunt upward, coating my clit with my essence.
Twisting and wiggling, I manage to hook my legs around his waist. Or, he lets me. Either way works to address the ache between my thighs that can only be relieved with more contact. Simultaneously, my arms fight against the force of his hand on my wrists.
“Mm. Keep struggling. It only makes me harder.”
Fuck, I forgot how good he was at this. His hot mouth clamps onto my throat, the sweet sting of his teeth sure to show up as a deep bruise tomorrow at his sister’s baby shower. Fuck it.
When Herc breaks the suction on my neck, he speaks to me while one finger delves into my cunt all the way to the base. “How are you so fucking perfect? I can feel you sucking me in. Fuck, Megs.”
The “Megs” thing almost kills me. No one, not even my mother, ever gave me a nickname. Herc was the only one.
Why does he have to be so sweet?
Ah, he’s trying to get me to relax and submit. He adds a second finger and repeats that word in my ear. “Megs. My Megs is so good and wet for me.” Shit, I’m coming, and I can’t stop it. A wave of pleasure tugs in my lower belly for the first time in what feels like forever. Herc curls his fingers inside in a bold come-hither stroke against my inner walls, drawing out my first hard orgasm.
“Herc…fuck,” I hiss through my teeth. It hits me so hard that I almost throw his body off me. Almost. God, even lean Herc is still a beast, and that thought only makes me hotter and wetter as I come and come around his fingers.
All this play is built around getting me extra wet for what happens next. We both know it. Whenever I push, pull, or otherwise try to get away, Herc’s grip releases another wave of arousal in me. The squeezing around my wrists, his body weighing me down. All of it feels delicious and fills me with need.
He pulls his fingers free of my pussy, letting me watch him lick his finger clean. I clamp down and want to scream for him to fill me again.
“You still taste like you belong to me, Megs. You make me fucking crazy.”
While he’s distracted, I try to writhe and free myself. As if. I don’t stand a chance, post-orgasm. The man is somehow more powerful and faster than he used to be. I don’t have anything on him physically, but I can fuck with him verbally. Ah, yes, my famous mouth has won me enemies worldwide. “Your chit-chat is cute and all. Are you gonna kiss me or bore me to death?”
In the old days, when we had the lake house all to ourselves, comments like that would get me a wild look and a spank—once Herc had gotten over his initial fear of hurting me. He would never have gone down this road if I hadn’t asked. The chasing and the biting, the holding me against my “will.” Tonight, he doesn’t respond to my verbal baiting the way I expect.
Herc’s lips descend against mine, and I gasp, unprepared for the emotion in this kiss.
“Megs.” The passionate kiss is slow and deep, and rips away a layer of protection that has nothing to do with clothing.
TWELVE
Herc
Kissing is supposed to come later. But I can’t help myself. Meghan’s soft, full lips are right there, smirking at me in the dusky light, challenging me. Daring me to talk less and take more.
I don’t only take; I also give.
My tongue nudges the seam of her lips. She opens with a soft moan that nearly makes me nut in my jeans.
