Crazy Eights (Stacked Deck #8) - Emilia Finn Page 0,108
she clutches the bedspread, and soaks through her panties right in front of my eyes. “No one.”
“So that means you’ve never done this for anyone before.” I slide the tips of my fingers along the inside of her thigh, and moan when she quivers. “You’ve never laid open like this for a man?”
“No. Oh god.” She arches up when I slide my finger over her lace-covered pussy. My mouth waters, and my cock seeps. With just one finger, I push the dark purple fabric aside and nearly lose myself at the sight of her glistening slit. “Never, I swear.”
“What about Derek?” I slide a single finger inside and inhale sharply when she tightens around me. “What about all your boyfriends?”
“Hogwarts.” She bucks beneath my hands and pants. “I lied. It’s what I do.”
“Pain in my ass.”
I pull my digit from inside her tight heat, and grin when she cries out at the unfairness. But then I tear her panties down and crawl along her body to sit back on my haunches and pull her into my lap until we meet at our cores. Dripping wet, chest heaving, she looks into my eyes and studies me with uncertainty. And for this moment, for this hour, I’m unafraid of the hurt tomorrow will bring.
“I don’t have a condom. I had some in my wallet… like, four years ago. But they expired.”
She snorts and circles her legs around my hips to keep me close. “I’m on the pill this time. We’re good to go.”
“Swear?”
She nods and creates a double chin with the angle she lays in, but I’ve always had a thing for her chin, so whatever. “Swear.”
“Thank you, Jesus.”
I grab her hips, and line my cock up at her fiery opening. Then without any of the gentleness I used last time we did this, I slam her down over my cock and make her swallow me up in one fast glide.
Quinn screams out in both pleasure and pain. She throws her head back so I get a view of her delicate throat, her wildly beating pulse, and the underside of her jaw.
Pulling back, I draw a deep breath and plunge inside a second time. I give her no time to adjust to my size. I give her no time for anything.
Because maybe I’m still pissed about her leaving me.
I slide a hand along her stomach, over her breasts, and then up to her throat. Pressing down a little harder than I should, I take my rage out on her body. I slam deep inside her, brand her as mine once and for all. I chant ownership in my mind, and pray for it to be so easy. I pray that she’ll stay.
But we both know she won’t, so I pleasure myself, and pleasure her at the same time.
She reaches up with both hands, wraps them around my wrist like she might want to remove my grip from her throat, but she doesn’t. She merely holds on and stares into my eyes while I use her the way I’ve dreamed for years.
I love her, and I hate her. I’m angry at her, but I’m a slave to anything she wants.
My thighs burn from my punishing pace, but I can’t stop. I won’t stop.
I bend forward and slam my lips to hers, because I’m fucking her like I hate her, so I must kiss her to show I love her. Our tongues dance, and the bed slams against the wall with a rhythmic thump-thump-thump each time I glide back inside her succulent heat. If my punishing pace hurts her, Quinn doesn’t show it, only meets me anger for anger.
Using her strength and a swing of her legs, she guides me over onto my aching back and sits on my cock like a queen readying to address her people. She rises up, lets her long hair dangle between us, and when I reach up to touch her tits, she unsnaps her bra and tosses it aside.
Right there, like I completely forgot its existence, sits a tiny, heart-shaped birthmark that sends me hurtling back four years to when we were new at this. Shy, scared.
“Tell me when it’s too much.” It wasn’t an offer, but a plea. “Tell me to stop.”
“Don’t stop.”
My anger grows and multiplies. It feeds on itself, and turns hotter, meaner. But the birthmark is like kryptonite. I remember the scared girl. A smartass, yes, and tough as nails. But she was scared, and I made a vow to take care of her.