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He bends his head to kiss me one more time, before he thrusts in earnest. Noise erupts from my throat at the drag of his cock inside me. Holy fuck, sex without a condom is an entirely different experience. So fucking good.
“Look at me, love,” Hardin demands. My eyes fly open—when had they even closed?—and crash into his blue gaze. “Tell me how good I feel. Tell me how much you love the feel of my cock in you.”
I’ve never been one for talking during sex, not really. My other partners had been mostly silent beyond grunts and moans. But they’d said very little beyond the occasional check in. So I’m more than a little surprise when I answer Hardin’s plea immediately. “Fuck, Hardin, you feel so fucking good in my pussy. I love your cock being so deep in me.”
He groans and picks up his pace, his hips slamming into mine. My knees bend, my feet pressing into his ass to urge him on. “Yes, Hardin, fuck yes, just like that. Don’t stop.”
His lips drag over my collarbone, trailing kisses and bites all over my skin. I wince as he bites the swell of my breast. That faint pain goes right to my pussy and I clench around him, making him groan again.
“Oh, you like that, do you, love? You like a little pain with your pleasure?” He sounds far too pleased with that revelation.
I certainly hadn’t before, but now apparently I do. My response is a moan as he bites the swell of my other breast before scraping his teeth over the hard bud of my nipple.
“If I hurt you a bit, will you come for me? Will you squeeze my cock and scream my name?”
I shake my head. “Don’t know. I don’t know, Hardin.” He chuckles, shifting his grip on me so that he can grip my hips and adjust his angle.
“It’s okay, love. I know. I know because the idea of it made your pussy pulse around me.” He pulls back and off me, his cock still firmly inside me, but he shifts so he’s on his knees, my ass on his thighs. “Brace yourself, love.”
It’s the only warning I get before his hand slaps my tit. Pain skitters over my skin and a moan rolls out of me.
“Yes,” I hiss. “Oh, fuck yes.”
His hand slaps my other breast, drawing a whimper of pleasure from me. And he keeps fucking me all the while. “That’s it, Ro. That’s fucking it. What a good fucking girl you are. Such a good pussy.”
My breath leaves me in sharp pants, a moan accompanying each one. Pleasure coils tighter and tighter inside me, heat building, and then he slaps the tips of his fingers over my clit and I detonate. My entire body tenses, my toes curling as I call out his name to the ceiling.
“So fucking beautiful,” Hardin grunts out. “So fucking good. Fuck, Ro.” His hips thrust a few more times, and then he stiffens. I feel his cock pulse inside me as his cum fills me up. As his orgasm abates, he sags down on top of me, his forehead pressing into my collarbone.
My arms loop around his back, stroking up and down his spine as he shudders against me. It feels powerful, knowing he’s as affected by this as I am. Knowing those tremors running through his body are because of me.
“Fuck, love,” he groans, turning his face into my neck. “I think you’re going to kill me.”
I laugh and lace my fingers into his hair, tugging until I can look at his face. “Why do you say that?”
His nose brushes along mine. “Because now that I’ve had you, I’m going to be horny all the fucking time when I’m around you. I’ll have a stiffy every minute of every day. I’m going to die from wanting you.”
A flush works its way over my cheeks, and he kisses the flare of heat. “Stay here,” he murmurs before getting up and striding as naked as the day he was born into my bathroom.
He returns a moment later with a damp washcloth. “As much as I love the idea of Gideon tattooing your ass while my cum drips out of you, I don’t think he’ll appreciate it much. May I?”
I hesitate. Sure, I just had sex with him, but letting him clean me up after seems a lot more intimate. He waits until I nod, and then he settles between my legs and carefully cleans me, before he tosses the washcloth away. He trails his lips over my pink and tender breasts, kissing softly, like he’s trying to soothe any hurt he might have inflicted with those tit slaps.
We stay like that, wrapped up in each other, until a noise in the living room draws our attention. The guys must be back, or at the very least, Gideon is. Hardin sighs as he pulls away from me before helping me to my feet.
We dress quickly, him back in his uniform and me in a pair of leggings, a bralette and a sweatshirt.
Gideon eyes us as we step out of the bedroom and in the brief flash of lust and jealousy in his eyes, I know he knows what we’ve been doing. His jaw goes tight, and he looks back at the items he’s spreading over the dining table.
Despite that I want to avoid him and his judgment on what just happened between me and Hardin, I wander over to him, eyeing the items he’s laid out. “I’ve never gotten a tattoo before,” I say, fingering a stack of towels. “Does it hurt?”
Hardin heads to the kitchen and starts pulling items out of the fridge. Gideon looks up at me, grey eyes running from the top of my head to my bare toes. “It depends on where you get it and if the artist is any good. It’s more of a burning sensation than anything.”
I lick my lips and nod. “Are you an artist that does it with as little pain as possible?”
His lips curl into a smirk, and he fists his hand into my sweatshirt to tug me closer to him until I’m standing between his legs. “For you, Rosalind, I will have the utmost care. For Hardin? I’m going to make it hurt.”
In the kitchen Hardin snorts. “Jealous?”
