Page 122 of Rough Hard Fierce (Chicago Underground 1-3)
He was half reclined on the bed as if he couldn’t make up his mind whether to lie back and let me or sit up and take over. I loved that I’d made him like this, indecisive and eager. I moved sideways to the pale skin of his hip. That soft patch of skin that’s not quite his ass or his front, so soft. The softest part of him.
No, that definitely wasn’t true. I moved inland, to an even softer place. A soft lick along the shaft of his cock, right in the middle, another neglected spot.
His body jerked. “Fuck.”
He reached for me, ready to turn me over. Probably to lick me and make me come as he had that night. I wanted it, but I wanted this more.
“Please,” I begged. “I want to make you feel good.”
“That does make me feel good.”
We froze for a second in an awkward tableau, each of us reared up off the bed, ready to pleasure each other but being denied.
I laughed. “We can do it at the same time.”
He laughed too, as if we’d reinvented the sixty-nine position. Silly us for not thinking of it sooner. This had all been done before, but it was new to us.
He rested back on the bed, and I clambered above him. It took a minute, arranging my legs, bumping his nose with my knee, not suffocating him, and I giggled. Laughing during sex—it felt strange but exhilarating.
Then he clamped his hands around my thighs and licked me long and slow, and I wasn’t laughing anymore. He looked different from this angle, all upside down, with his cock pointing at me. I walked my hands down his body until I reached it. I put my mouth to the tip, a chaste kiss.
He sucked on my clit, and my body answered with an involuntary suck. He groaned and then licked me faster, sucked me hard. It made me wild, and I just attacked his cock, just messed it all up with my lips and my face and my saliva. It was dirty but not shameful. Sexy but not scary.
We sucked on each other, taking pleasure and giving it back. The bliss of his mouth on me was only heightened by the taste of his cock in my mouth.
But he’d hit a rhythm, licking my clit, and he put two fingers inside me. I couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t possibly think about sucking or stroking when I was so close. I left my mouth closed around him, letting the heat and the wetness and the vibrations of my moans do what they could for him. My hips rocked, and I tried, tried to hold them still, but even then I was shaking with the effort. It wouldn’t last. I couldn’t take it.
He stopped for just a minute, and I almost screamed. “Ride me,” he said. “Do it.”
Fuck, yes, I did. I was so close already. His tongue found my clit again, and I rode it mindlessly, letting my body sway and roll and find its release so it could take me with it. And it did. I came. I came on his mouth and tried so hard not to bite down, but that was all I could think.
The pulse of his cock in my mouth was what aroused me from my stupor. I gave him one last, hard suck, swallowing the saliva that I’d left there as I came. It should have been gross, I should have been embarrassed, but it was just how I’d pleased him. I’d made him feel good and him me, and there was nothing at all gross or embarrassing about that.
I rolled off him, because as much as I wanted to keep sucking him and make him come, I couldn’t even sit up. He didn’t need me to sit, thank God, and he turned me over onto my stomach. I started to pull my legs under me, to prop myself up so he could take me from behind, but he stopped me. Instead he slipped between my legs, barely spread far enough to cradle his hips.
His cock dipped low and slid into me. It was the same thing, being fucked from behind, the same cock, the same hole. But it was totally different, because he wasn’t riding me or pulling my hair or anything like that, but just rocking into me. It was all pleasure, his cock in me, his chest curved around my back. The only pain at all was the small bite of his fingers into my hips, anchoring me to the bed, but it was the sweetest hurt.
And, even sweeter, he began to talk to me, saying the love words he’d written with his body. “You’re beautiful, baby. I missed you. You make me crazy. Fuck, you’re so hot.”
My mind responded to his words with hope and love and pride, but all that was drowned out when the angle of his thrusts pointed down, pinging a certain place inside me. He sped up too, both his thrusts and his words. “Allie, Allie, fuck, you’re so hot and tight. Just for me. Yes, just me. Fuck.”
My mouth opened against the bedspread in a soundless cry. So close, so fucking close. His words tightened and wound, almost unintelligible, except I could hear my name and fuck in close succession. My ass canted back, begging for it. And then he said it.
“I love you.”
He froze, like he hadn’t meant to, like he’d surprised himself, but it was too late. I’d heard him, and I was coming. My body pulsed and shook, and I pushed, impaling myself on him to ride out my orgasm. That was too much, even for him, and he came with a strangled, wordless shout.
He wrapped his arms and legs around my body like a cocoon, with his cock still inside me. I couldn’t move, didn’t want to. We panted together, using up all the air, sharing it. We stayed that way for a long, long time, neither of us wanting to separate. Whenever it was, it would be too soon.
Only finally when I couldn’t breathe—I even let myself see spots—I shrugged at him, and he rolled off. But he grasped my hand, and I held his back. This was the part where I ran to the bathroom, crying, or maybe he did, but neither of us wanted that, so we held on tight.
Chapter Fourteen
Our breathing evened out, and I felt my mind drift into that space between awake and dreams. Something held me back from sleep—it was the fear that this was a dream after all. That I’d wake up, and he’d be gone. Nice sex, Allie. See you next month.
That wasn’t Colin, of course, but he might still leave. I had to be sure.
I squeezed slightly, just to see if he was awake. He tightened his hand on mine.
