Page 28 of Resurgent
I moan with pleasure, but I don’t answer. It is, but not tonight. Tonight I want him hot and desperate and so turned on that nothing’s going to deter him, and especially not me.
As if reading my mind, his fingers tighten in my hair and he yanks my head back, then sinks his teeth into my shoulder. I squeal from surprise more than pain, although there’s a tinge of that too. “Or do you like it rough and hard and out-of-control?” he rasps.
I’d seen hints of this side of him in Playa—the way he’d intertwined his fingers with mine, moved them over my head and held them there while he sunk his cock into me and how he’d lightly gripped my throat as he kissed me—but nothing like this full-on dominant, raw, carnal side I see in him tonight. He’d clearly held back with me that night. Somehow this version of Liam is even hotter, and I crave giving him my body without reservation. Even if, or maybe especially because, I’m sort of terrified.
“That,” I manage to say. I want it dirty and primal and fierce. I want Liam, uncensored.
He rises up on his knees, his hand cupped around my chin bringing me with him, and he kisses me. There’s nothing sweet about it. He forces my mouth open with his thumb pushing against my chin so his tongue can snake languidly into my mouth, leaving little doubt who’s in charge. It’s not me, and I fall into the kiss like a woman drowning.
Abruptly, he spins me around, takes my hands, and physically slams them on the wall behind the head of the bed, his hard chest pressing against my back as he holds me there. Oh God. This is hot as hell.
“Keep them there.” He lets go and trails his hands up the length of my arms, his fingertips raising little goose bumps of pleasure and quickening my pulse. I don’t dare let go. He gathers my hair into his hand, wraps it around his wrist, and bites the nape of my neck. I shiver deliciously. With a guttural growl, he tugs my head back and kisses me again. Actually, that’s not the right word. This time, he fucks my mouth—violently and wildly—his lips demanding my full acquiescence.
When he’s done with my mouth, he squeezes my ass roughly and gives it a slap. It’s not a spank, exactly. More a reminder that he’s in charge, and I better not forget it. I intend to protest a little, just for show to make sure he knows I won’t give in without a fight, but then his hands are on my breasts, kneading them roughly, and I forget everything else. He knows I’m too far gone to stop and he has every intention of taking advantage of it.
He reaches around me and slowly slides two fingers forward over my mound, stroking over my clit before slipping them into my slick opening. I moan. He starts moving them in and out, slowly at first, and then faster, until he’s finger-fucking me so hard, the bed slams into the wall with each thrust. I keep my hands where he placed them on the wall. It’s a necessity to hold myself steady, but it also gives him implicit consent, and unrestrained access to my body. It’s heady as hell.
His lips near my ear keep up a steady commentary, telling me precisely all the things he intends to do to me. Every filthy word makes me wetter.
And his hands… I’ve never felt this kind of pleasure before. His fingers are driving into me vigorously, and with each forward thrust of his hand, he stimulates my G-spot with his finger and my clit at the same time with his palm. My thighs are shaking with the effort of keeping my legs open for him, and the buildup to another hard climax. I cry out, close to shattering.
“Shh,” he whispers. There’s a world of power in the simple command. It’s definitely a warning to be quiet—after all, the windows are still open—but it’s also “I’m in control” and “Do what I tell you.” But he doesn’t stop. He goes and goes and goes, still holding me by the hair until I come violently with a scream.
Without giving me even a minute to recover, he flips me onto my back and yanks me to the edge of the bed where he’s now standing, his thickly veined cock sticking straight out and ramrod hard.
“You sure you want this, baby?”
I nod vehemently. I’m too strung out on pleasure to string together any sounds that might sound like words.
He again takes both of my wrists in one of his hands and very deliberately places them over my head. Then he grabs my hips and pulls me farther off the edge. I panic, afraid I’m going to fall. He smiles and drags me closer, past the edge, so I’m completely at his mercy. “Shh.” That command again, reminding me to let go.
He grabs my ankles and pulls my legs up and out so I’m spread open for him. Then he oh so slowly slips his magnificent cock into me, inch by beautiful inch until I’m filled and stretched with the achingly wide breadth of him. With a groan, I try to move, to take him deeper, make him fuck me, but he holds me immobile, his stronger body pinning mine.
“Tell me you want it. I need you to say the words.”
“I want you, Liam. I want you to fuck me. Rough. Hard. No holds barred. Take me over the edge with you this time.”
He slides out a little, then slams back into me. “Like this?”
“God. Yes. Deeper. Harder.” He punctuates each of my words with a fuckstroke, each one more forceful than the last. He handles me roughly, manipulating my body for his pleasure. His hands, just above my knees, firmly hold my slightly bent legs up and apart as he finds his rhythm, and he pumps his cock in and out of me. My body moves with his in an orchestrated dance as old as time, my breasts bouncing with each thrust, driving me toward that point of mindless need again.
The whole world could end right now and I wouldn’t notice. I’m too caught up in the sensation, reeling from pleasure. Nothing exists but him filling me, and his words that have my pussy clenching more tightly around him…utterances of “good girl” and “that’s it” and “hold on, I’m going to fuck you harder.”
“Oh. Oh. Oh. I’m going to come.”
“No, baby. Not yet. Give me more.”
“But—” My words fade as his lips fuse with mine.
The words bring back an onslaught of memories, but they dissipate as need collides with sensation. Just when I think it can’t get any better, he pushes my legs up higher, practically folding me in half, and drives into me again. Now, with each stroke, he hits my G-spot and I whimper. His palm covers my mouth, forcing me to focus on his words and those final sharp, deep thrusts that will carry us both over the edge.
He’s in full-on dominant mode, pressing me tightly to him so he can feel every throb of my sex as I clench around him. I can feel him tense up, increasing his speed until, with a loud grunt and an “oh fuck yes,” he thrusts one more time and comes inside of me as I shatter into a thousand tiny pieces.
