Page 41 of Renegade
Chapter Eleven
Gemma
Walker’s hands on my skin are incendiary. I feel like I’m burning up from the inside out, but I don’t care. My need for Walker, for what he can give me and for who I become with him, burns so intensely that I don’t care what the firestorm he creates consumes in the process. I just want to be taken by him, owned by him, loved by him—wholly and completely—even if it’s just for tonight.
Last night, he made me come without blindfolds or ropes or protocol or any of the things that seemed so enticing when Declan proposed them to me what seems like a lifetime ago. At the time, those things set fire to my senses and sparked my imagination. The thought of that enforced vulnerability, of doing those things with him, had given me butterflies, and I thought I’d finally found what I’d been searching for. Finally, maybe I had discovered what I needed to have an orgasm with a man. But Walker accomplished the impossible just by being Walker. He gave me passion and ecstasy greater than anything I’d ever imagined with nothing but his hands and mouth, and the essence of who he is.
No more faceless stranger. Last night with Walker would have been enough to fuel my dreams and fantasies for a lifetime. But tonight…tonight catapulted everything to a whole new level. When he added that enticing element of the forbidden to this crazy, unprecedented dynamic between us, it became an irresistible and potent concoction. Now I see last night was simply a warm-up for the way he’s commanded my body today. He makes me feel the way I’ve only imagined in my darkest and wildest dreams. Authoritative and commanding, he doesn’t let me hide behind my control; he strips everything from me to reveal my most basic, passionate, uncensored self.
But oh, karma is such a bitch. Walker is everything I have ever wanted in a man, but he’s the one man I can’t have. I should walk away before it’s too late. I definitely shouldn’t make love with him. But while I know we shouldn’t do this, tonight, I don’t care. Tonight I want it all, even if I have to pretend it means nothing.
So I tell him what he wants to hear. That we’ll just be friends with benefits. That one time won’t hurt. That it means nothing and tomorrow we’ll go back to the way things were. But things will never be the same again.
I want him. And I’m going to have him. I’d rather live with heartbreak than regret.
Now that he’s untied me, I can’t keep my hands off him. I love the feel of his body, the feel of him. The brown skin that stretches over his thickly corded muscles is so smooth and soft, like satin encasing steel. And his cock! His cock is a freaking work of art. Now free of his jeans and boxers, it’s standing at attention. I wrap my fingers around it again, eager to see if I can make his eyes darken and close halfway again.
He groans as I stroke him from base to shaft. “I want to fuck you so bad, baby.”
Oh, God. Desire stabs through me at his carnal words. I want him inside me. Now!
“Do you have a condom?”
It doesn’t matter—I’m on the pill, and this is Walker—but I ask out of habit. I don’t expect him to actually have one. Neither one of us planned this. But he vaults off the bed with the easy grace of a born athlete and stalks over to where his backpack lays abandoned on the small sofa table. I take a minute to admire his sheer masculine perfection. He is long and lean and powerful, his muscles rippling slightly beneath his skin as walks. His skin is naturally a gorgeous burnished bronze color, and in the glow of the firelight, he looks like the statue of some sort of demigod.
He quickly unearths a condom, and I will myself not to think about the fact that Walker is the kind of guy who carries a condom in his backpack because he never knows who or when he’s going to want to fuck. He’s always had his choice of women, and he’s always considered it his right to sample whatever he wants. It never bothered me before, and it shouldn’t now. It’s no more my business today than it was yesterday, just like it’s not my business who McKenzie or Charlotte sleep with. Walker and I are just friends. Maybe if I keep telling myself that, I’ll start to believe it.
He’s back, standing next to me and looking at me with such heat and desire in his sensual, almond-shaped eyes that I forget about all the faceless other women. Tonight, he’s mine. No one else matters.
“Put it on me.”
The way he says it, like I don’t have a say in the matter and he’s just going to take what he wants, has my sex clenching in response. My whole adult life, I’ve wanted a man to talk to me like that. But old habits die hard, or maybe I just want to see if he’s really capable of taking the power from me.
I take the condom from him and push him back onto the bed, straddling him. I’m in the position of power now, and I take full advantage of it. I run my hands over his body, exploring him with my fingertips as if his muscles are braille characters and I don’t want to miss a word. I trail kisses down the flat plane of his washboard stomach to his belly button. There’s a dark line of hair that leads from his navel to his cock—a happy trail, Charlotte calls it—and I trace it with my tongue. I lick the tip of him.
He groans. “Be careful how you tease me,” he rasps.
“Oh, yeah? Why? Turnabout is fair play, I think.”
I flick my tongue against the underside of his cock, right at that sensitive spot where the broad head connects to his thick shaft. It pulses. Taking that as a good sign, I wet my lips, close them around him, and ever so slowly take the full length of him into my mouth. I pause with him deep in my throat, and then I slowly begin to move up and down on his cock. Walker remains motionless, but his fingers fist in my hair deliciously. After a few minutes of me working his cock with my mouth, he drags me off him. Our eyes meet.
“Suit me up, baby. I’m impatient to have you.”
Driven by some wicked desire to see how far I can push him, I sit up, but I don’t put the condom on him right away. Holding his gaze, I drag the edge of the condom package over his chest—abrading his tiny hard nipples—and down his V-cut. He watches me with hooded eyes. I tear the package open with my teeth, then tease him with the condom, brushing it over his balls and up the side of his shaft before I roll it slowly—inch by agonizing inch—onto his thick, pulsing cock.
“Gemma…” It’s a warning this time, which only makes me determined to egg him on a little more and see if I can make him snap. God, I hope so. I want to make him lose control. I want to unleash the demons in him.
I lower myself onto him so I’m sitting on his cock with the hard length of him nestled against my wet slit and wiggle a little. His eyes narrow. I lean forward, making sure my nipples graze over his chest, and pin his wrists to the bed. It’s almost laughable. My fingers barely fit around them. I nip his jaw, then kiss his lips. He leans up to kiss me back, his tongue barely touching my lips before I move away, laughing.
I grind my pelvis against him a few times, relishing the feel of his velvet-soft but hard-as-steel cock rubbing against my clit, sending little pulses of desire through me. Judging by the way his hands are clenching into fists and his breathing has become labored, he’s as turned on as I am. But there’s no stopping me now. I crawl down the length of his body until I’m perched at the foot of the bed. I look up at him. “You want it?”
He pounces, forcefully dragging me back up onto the bed. I find myself flat on my back staring into Walker’s heated brown eyes with his hand wrapped around my throat. I wanted him before. Now, completely at his mercy with his hand around my throat, I’m ravenous. I love him like this, his passion raw and unchecked.
He lifts an eyebrow and smiles at me like the devil himself. “You still think you want to be manhandled?”
“Hell, yes.”
“You sure about that?”
