Page 41 of Legs

I looked up. He was fit and muscular, not bulky. More tattoos decorated his ribs, but his flat stomach and the broad planes of his chest were ink free. There was more metal—two hoops through his nipples, his silver chain hanging between them. His bad-boy factor just tipped the bad-boy scale.

And I was a minute from coming again.

I slid my fingers around his thick thighs and licked the piercing. He gripped my hair, a guttural sound following. Apparently he liked that. I took another taste, the metallic sting sharp on my tongue. Moving one hand around his shaft, I slid my tongue in circles, each pass landing on the barbell, giving it a gentle tug.

His hold tightened on my hair. I sucked him deeper, always finishing on the tip, exploring his piercing. His groans escalated, as did his dirty words.

Love fucking your mouth. My dick is so hard. I can still taste your pussy.

My fascination gave way to hunger, the rush so thick my mind blurred. I wanted him. No, I needed him inside me. I needed to feel that barbell dragging along my sensitive walls.

I circled my tongue once more, then stood. “Sex has to happen.”

He pulled me close, his erection pressed to my hip. He coasted his lips over my jaw. “I was counting on it.”

I dragged my fingers between his pecs, enjoying the softness of his chest hair, finally touching his nipple rings. “Have you been tested? Are you clean?”

He stilled. “Yes.” He dipped his head to catch my eye. “What’s going on in that mind of yours?”

“I want to feel it. Feel you inside me. No condom. I’ve been tested, and I’m on the pill,” I added, like that was the only thing stopping us.

I’d only had unprotected sex with my last boyfriend, my mother’s fear of disease ratcheting up my caution. I trusted Jimmy, though. I didn’t know him that well, but my intuition said he’d never hurt me. And I was drunk on the man.

His hips rotated, mine joining his rhythm, a subtle rocking of our naked bodies. “I’ve never been bare in a woman. My ex had an issue with the pill, and it never happened. I’ve been tested, too. But I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

I slid my hand between us, gripping him. “Aren’t you supposed to be the wild one?”

My recklessness knew no bounds.

He made a pained sound at the back of his throat, then he pressed his forehead to mine. “Do you trust me?”

“I do.”

“Does this mean you’re staying over?”

I stilled my movements. Staying over sounded better than sipping another Screaming Eagle Cabernet, his hard body tangled around mine divine. But sleeping over led to feelings, which led to commitment, which led to entrenched lives. An outcome I wasn’t ready to entertain. “No. It’s too much. You said you were okay keeping it casual.” To convince him, I stroked him again, his erection like silken steel.

He shuddered. “You are dangerous.” Then he gripped my hips. “This is how it’s going to go. I’m going to fuck you and come inside you, bare. I’m too turned on and can’t be gentle. You probably won’t come, but the next round will be all about you. That work for you, Sunshine?”

All I could do was nod.

He lifted me up and carried me to the middle of his bed, all pretense gone. Then he seized my ankles, anchored them on his shoulders, and wrapped his hand around the base of his cock, guiding it toward me. He didn’t push in, just moved the head around, over me and toward my entrance, the slide of his piercing dizzying. I canted my hips, coaxing him. Asking for it. A muscle in his jaw ticked, the only sign he was holding back.

Until he wasn’t.

He pushed into me, a long drag that had him dropping his head forward, a pained “Christ” rumbling from his chest. His pause didn’t last long. Neither did the slow pace. He dug his fingers into my hips and pounded into me, his gaze locked on where we were joined. My focus was glued on him. The ripple of his abs as he contracted. The veins on his neck, tight with exertion. His thrusts rocked me, so forceful I couldn’t move. I could only take. And take. My pleasure coiled, the nudge of his piercing teasing me.

Then he exploded. “Fuck. Fuck. Oh, fuck.” His orgasm was forceful, a storm unleashed, and my lust spiked.

Him unhinged was a beautiful sight, and I took him there.

His guttural sounds brought me closer, but not to the brink, as predicted. He eased my ankles from his shoulders and lowered his body, until we were flush. His dangling chain tickled my collarbone. “Is this what you wanted to feel? My hard cock inside you?”

The storm had passed, his movements as smooth as the tide. “Yes,” I said.

I loved his dirty words, but couldn’t reciprocate. Couldn’t voice how I liked him fucking me. How the roughness turned me on. When he cupped my breast and pinched my nipple, I didn’t scream yes and harder. I simply moaned.

He softened inside me, the fullness less acute, but he kept moving, shallower glides, in and out. Until he thickened again. It didn’t take long, each roll of his hips deepening. His lips captured mine, our kiss as languid as his movements, and my heart swelled. It shouldn’t have swelled. We were having sex. Fucking. Not making love. But being joined to him, nothing between us, was more dangerous than sleeping over.