Page 33 of Bad Attitude
Tentatively, I reach out for him, and his hand grips mine. He pulls me up, not just to sit but straight into his arms, like my weight is nothing to him. My breasts press into his chest, and then he’s lifting me. Without thinking, I wrap my legs around his waist. His hands cup my butt, and I’m being carried through my apartment, toward the bedroom.
His cock is pressed hard and warm against my pussy, already so sensitive. With each step it rubs, pulling a moan from me, wanton and low, a noise I’ve never made. He looks down, and the heat in his eyes strips away another layer of my composure.
“Fuck, Genesis. Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” What did I do?
“You know exactly what.”
His arms tighten, his fingers press into the flesh of my ass, and the fingertips of one hand slide into my crack. It makes me jump, my thighs clenching around his waist, and I rise up in his arms. His cock rubs against me, and I whimper.
He groans in response, deep and raw, his pale blue eyes turning darker. “Screw the fucking bed,” he mutters, and it’s all the warning I get.
My back hits the wall beside my bedroom door, hard enough to knock me breathless. His hips adjust, his fingers wrap around his cock, and then he spears forward.
Driving into me.
Eight
Raven
My back hits the wall again, but I hardly notice.
His hips keep my thighs spread wide, his hands beneath my ass keep me where he wants me, and I’m open to him. As wet as I’ve ever been, my body still awash with the lingering pleasure of my recent orgasm. Yet that doesn’t help me adjust for the size of him, and the pain of that first stretch makes me cry out, high and short.
But there’s pleasure too. The press of being filled, the strength of his cock pinning me, and I can’t help but feel it belongs there. Within me.
That’s another first. I’ve never wanted a man within me the way I want to open to him.
“So fucking tight,” Declan breathes.
He hasn’t managed to enter me fully on that first thrust. He grunts with his effort, draws slowly back, then pushes again. This time, my pussy welcomes him, and he sinks slowly in, until I’m so full it’s like Ican’t draw a breath. His gaze is on mine the whole time, and I find myself captured by him, unable to look away. It’s the pain, the pleasure, the deliberateness of his penetration, the intensity of his stare. The fact that we’re not even in my bed, but against a wall, like he could fuck me anywhere.
It’s not comfortable, and I don’t care. It’s not sweet or loving or gentle, andI don’t care.
This is what I want. This is what I never knew I needed.
I know he’ll come within a minute and it will be over. But this instant, this moment where our eyes meet and our bodies are locked together? I wish it could last.
My pussy clenches on his hardness, and my thighs tighten around his flanks, holding him within me. My eyes flutter closed, and I lose myself in the feel of him.
“Just like that,” he mutters, shifting his weight and bracing his legs. “You feel so fucking right. Keep your eyes on me, now. There’s my good girl.”
His words cause a gasp to escape, even as my eyes open in response. I’ve never been anyone’s good girl in my life, and I shouldn’t want to be his.
But I do.
His hips draw back slowly, hands tightening under my ass, then he drives in again, pulling another cry from me. Barely has he filled me when he slides away, only to ram in once more. Each stroke slow on the withdraw, strong and brutal on the thrust. My back bangs into the plaster, and I brace my shoulders against it. My fingers clutch at his arms, my thighsgrip him, I cross my ankles at the small of his back. It’s harder and harder to keep my eyes on his. I so badly want to close them.
Tears spring unbidden as the pleasure increases, another orgasm beginning to build. That’s new too; the possibility of coming while someone is inside me? A first for me. My thighs grip him so tight it must be uncomfortable for him, but I don’t care. Not when he’s driving me into the wall with each thrust, and it’s all I can do to cling to him.
My cries become whimpers, small involuntary noises as I meet each of his thrusts, and I hook my arms around him and bury my face in the side of his neck. It lets me close my eyes, and that only makes the feel of him that much greater. And his scent, too—leather and musk and the faint hint of a rich, spicy cologne. I want to wrap myself in it.
I don’t know how long we’ve been doing this, but it feels like forever. And he hasn’t come. But I’ve been stripped naked and licked, carried and dragged across the couch, lifted and pinned to the wall, and my body’s so sensitive. And he’sstillfucking me like he intends to go all night.
My whimpers become quiet little sobs, caught with each breath I manage to take, and then a second orgasm washes through me, and I’m certain I stop breathing entirely. All I can do is cling to him, riding the wave of pleasure and the primal nature of his relentless thrusts, each one only serving to drive my orgasm on and on. I’m vaguely aware my nails are digging into his shoulders and that my apartmentechoes with the sounds of cries I didn’t know I was making.
Then he drives deep inside me, shudders with pleasure, and holds there, catching his breath.
