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The woman was a live wire and he never wanted to be without her spark. Thrusting one hand deep into her hair, he tugged and their kiss became almost savage.
Mitchell settled between her thighs after nudging them wider to accommodate him. “Wrap.” He growled the word then nipped her lower lip.
She did, sliding her wetness along the hard ridge in his jeans. Mitchell reached between them enough to undo the buttons on his jeans, freeing his length. Fisting himself, he squeezed the base and dragged the swollen head through her slickness.
Hope raked her nails along the nape of his neck and he thrust inside her with a single stroke. Her heat, scorching. Releasing his grip on her hair, he slapped a hand beside her head, digging into the pillow.
“How do you want me, Flykra?”
His skin tingled like he’d just grabbed onto an electrified fence.
“Hard?” He pulled back and drove in with a punctual push. “Slow?” He dragged out until only the head of his cock remained inside her. Then he filled her again, a gradual slide of hard along silken.
“Mitchell!” Hope shifted beneath him, her motions rolling with a slow—he would swear calculated—movement solely to drive him out of his mind.
“Answer me.” God, he had a hard enough time getting those two words out, much less asking her again.
Something slid out of her mouth he didn’t understand. But he did comprehend the way her body arched into him and how her legs tightened around his waist. The bite of her nails into his flesh only amped up his hunger for her. Hope knew what she wanted and wasn’t shy about asking for it or taking it.
“Hard, then…” A gentle kiss. “Slow after.” A feral grin. “Then more.”
…
Hope bucked but the man holding her hips didn’t let her move at all. Mitchell held her prisoner for the assault of his lips and tongue on her skin. He licked, nipped, sucked, laved and more until she was nothing but a wriggling mess.
She begged, pleaded, hell, even threatened and promised him whatever he wanted, but he didn’t relent.
For it hadn’t mattered.
“I’m not moving until I’ve satisfied my need for this pussy, Flykra. It’s wet and I’m a thirsty man.”
She’d lost track of how many orgasms he’d given her. She was hypersensitive and he still held her how he wanted her. His large hands pinned her down and splayed her wide for him to feast. And he had.
Feasted.
Gorged.
In the bedroom at the inn, he’d been tender.
This wasn’t. The softness had gone or was yet to arrive. Mitchell demanded, he was greedy and untamed.
She was fairly certain she’d lost her voice. His tongue dove through her folds, wrapped around her clit and the man sucked with determination. If it was to get her to shatter, he’d done all that and more.
“Mitchell, please,” Hope panted, pushing her fingers deep into his hair and tugging.
“Tell me what you need.”
Something. Everything. Words didn’t work and all she could do was whimper his name once more as she thrust her hips up, praying he got the hint.
His thrust was strong and she opened her eyes to find him over her, his cock driven to the hilt inside her. He palmed her thighs and lifted them high on his waist.
“Just so you know, I’m not done with this pussy.”
Scraping her nails up his chiseled abs, she smoothed them over his nipples and he shuddered. That motion went through her and she responded in kind. His jaw clenched but she watched as he shook his head and took a deep breath.
When he removed her legs from around his waist and pulled out, she focused on his dick, slick with her. Dragging her eyes up over the intricate tattoos on his hard body, she met his stare.
Without dropping her gaze, he grasped the base of his shaft, pumped himself once, and fell to his back, cock erect, a devilish temptation.
Or was that an invitation?
Perhaps both.
“You’re going to have your wicked way with me, Flykra. Come take it.”
Body still hypersensitive from earlier, she licked her lips and took a long, slow perusal of his physique. He might no longer be an active player in the league but damn the man was nothing but hard muscles and sexy tendons which were probably etched by a master sculptor. Despite living here in the northeast, his skin boasted a lovely tan.
Fingertips burning to touch him again, she pushed to a seated position. His gaze tracked her movement.
He crooked a finger at her and pointed to his cock. She obeyed. Straddling his thighs made hers stretch further. She’d never forget what she was looking at for as long as she lived.
He waited for her, naked. His longer blond hair was in a tangled mess around his face, the tattoos on his skin popping with a life of their own. Hope exhaled and leaned forward. Skimming her hands up along his hard torso, she purred. The man was hot. Figuratively and literally.
