slow, sweet. At complete odds with his size.
I felt fragile and cared for.
It was beautiful.
But I also wanted something more, something that made me feel like I was more than just a cute, petite woman. I wanted to feel sexy, so sexy, he couldn’t help but screw me six ways until Sunday.
“Okay,” I agreed breathlessly. “But next time, we get to do it hard and fast.”
At that, I felt a shudder move through Rhys. “She’s trying to kill me,” he muttered against my lips.
Maybe. But goodness, what a way to go.
Seventeen
Rhys
Slow. I was supposed to go slow. Parker Brown was sprawled out beneath me like a feast. A pocket pixie, delicate and beautiful. I’d never touched skin so fine, smoother than satin, honey-gold and sweet. I was half afraid I’d break her. Hell, I’d thrust my dick into her slick tightness, trying to think straight long enough to slow the fuck down.
God, she felt good, though. So damn tight. So damn hot. She chuckled against my mouth and moved her hips in a small circle as I thrust. Pleasure shot down my spine, over my skin. I paused deep within her, my dick throbbing. My body shook with the effort to keep still as Parker wiggled beneath me.
“Rhys.”
I nipped her succulent lower lip and took a ragged breath.
“You gonna behave now?” I asked, knowing she liked it when I was bossy.
Her shining brown eyes smiled as she met my gaze. “Yes, Rhys.”
Oh, hell. She really was trying to kill me. My nostrils flared as I pulled back and thrust hard. Parker sighed on impact, her sweet little tits jiggling. Fuck. Yes. I did it again. Hard and deep. Slow.
The sounds of our bodies meeting filled the silence. Her breath became a pant, her lids lowering as she watched me fuck into her. Something was taking over; I stopped thinking, stopped worrying. Nothing mattered anymore. Not the gym. Not my brother or bills. Not Fairchild.
There was only this. Only Parker. She lit me up, made me something new—something good. Groaning, I found her mouth and devoured it. My thrusts became frantic. No more finesse, no more control, just this need to push into her, get as close as possible to her skin so that maybe she could absorb me.
My thoughts grew jumbled, my breath harsh and dry. I needed more.
Her skin was slippery with sweat as I grabbed her thigh and hauled it up higher, spreading her wider.
“Yes,” she rasped, arching up, pressing her breasts against my chest.
Yes. The best word in the English language. Yes. And more. And fuck.
Grunting, I worked her hard, my lips finding the fragrant curve of her neck. I sucked her skin, moved my hips, and fucked her with everything I had.
Parker cried out, her body going tight around me. I could feel her on the edge. Her skin was flushed, her eyes wide on me. “Rhys.”
I heard the plea. My voice was a thick rasp. “What do you need, Tink?”
“Grind it,” she said, gasping. “My clit.”
God. I loved the way she thought. My hips slammed into hers, and I paused there, pushing against her swollen clit. She moaned, her eyes closing, her head tilting back.
It was beautiful. And I was the lucky bastard who got to see this.
“Let go.” I thrust again, pausing, working her. “Give it to me, Parker.”
Her hands grasped my shoulders. She came with a spectacular wail, her body milking my dick so hard I saw stars. It set me off. I lost all sense of time, of anything but moving inside Parker, kissing her soft mouth.
I groaned into her mouth as I came. Everything drained out of me, and in that moment, I didn’t know my own name. Only hers.
I was hers.
“And this little beauty is an authentic Japanese samurai sword, owned by a World War II Japanese officer.” Fairchild lifted the sword off its display mount and held it aloft. “Note the blade. Made by Yoshimichi.”
His houseguests attempted to look interested as Fairchild beamed.
“Story goes, when the US occupied Japan at the end of the war, they confiscated the sword and presented it to an officer as a reward for his work in defeating the Japanese. Set me back around thirty thousand, but I was glad to pay the price.”
This fucking guy.
I caught Parker’s eye. I didn’t need to make a face—one glance and it seemed she understood me completely. Just as I knew she was fighting not to wrinkle her nose in disdain. Fairchild was some piece of work.