Fix It Up - Mary Calmes Page 0,95
cuffs of my jeans and pulled them off, making sure to grab my underwear as well. Once I was naked, he tipped his head, and I did as directed and rolled over onto my stomach before lifting to my hands and knees.
“Nick, you—Nick,” I moaned as he opened his mouth on the small of my back, sucking, licking, kissing up my spine to my shoulder blades, moving off me for a moment before I heard the nightstand jostle when he yanked open the drawer, not bothering to close it again, the jingling of his belt buckle next, and then the rough sound of a jerked zipper. His movement was rushed, I knew without looking because I could hear it, the telltale sounds of undressing. His hand was suddenly in my hair, turning my head until he could reach my mouth.
“I need to make something clear,” he said hoarsely before he kissed me quickly. “You’re the most important person in my life.”
I kissed him then, slowly, wanting him to feel that we were in this, at least for now, together. His response was drugging and sensual, each pull on my tongue better than the last, and I moaned loudly when he slid two lubed fingers into my ass.
Impossible to ever be embarrassed about what I wanted when Nick had already shown himself to be everything I craved, a lover who would use me, give me pleasure, but not ask permission. Younger than me, so different in every way from me, and yet, already, he knew instinctively how to treat me—like I belonged to him.
When he lifted his mouth from mine, easing me facedown onto the mattress, holding me there a moment so I understood that was where I should stay, I splayed my hands on the sheets as he gripped my hip, guiding the wide head of his cock to my hole.
“I want,” he began, his voice guttural and low, “you to sit close to me from now on so I can talk to you between songs, see you,” he said as he pressed forward, stretching me around his shaft as he filled me up, never once slowing or stopping, the breach taking my breath away; there was pain and pressure and ache and desire all at the exact same time. Impossible to say where one ended and the other began. “Because when you’re close, when you’re right there with me, there’s this amazing grounding, settling, solid thing that happens in my chest. I feel good and well and whole.”
Fully seated, his groin flush with my ass, I shivered as he stroked my sides before he took hold of my cock with his right hand and stroked me slowly, his skin slipping over mine as I strained to press forward into his grip even as I pushed back onto his cock, my muscles relaxing a fraction each time.
“Flint was saying how dark and scary your eyes are, but to me…to me…all I see is how deep they are, and how beautiful, and I need you to look only at me.”
I needed him to move. “Nick,” I ground out.
He stroked me faster but otherwise remained still.
“Nick,” I whimpered. “Please.”
“I want you right there beside me. I want all your attention. Promise me.”
“Yes.” My voice cracked.
He eased back and then thrust forward, deep, jarring, and perfect. I was ready for the pounding, had to have it, was desperate for it, the yearning about to be loud.
“Oh yes,” he moaned, ragged and greedy, his fingers digging into my hips. “Locryn Barnes, your ass is mine.”
I howled into the bunched quilt as he hammered inside of me, the plunge and retreat an endless loop of yearned-for pleasure, his strength and stamina a gift.
He slipped free, rolling me to my back, on me even before I could vent my frustration, shoving back inside, his hips snapping forward as he stroked my legs reverently, savoring the feel of me in his hands as he curled forward and kissed me.
“Open your eyes and look at me,” he ordered, and there was a sliver of menace there, not quite anger, but close.
I met his gaze, but it took me a second.
Sex was one thing; sex while you stared into the face of the person you were in bed with was a whole other level of intimacy.
“Don’t look away,” he said as he began the slow, sensual stroking of his cock deep inside my body. “I want you to see it and feel it at the same time when I